Man of the Year

It’s 8:13p and now I’m starting to worry. He’s late. He’s never late. Punctuality. It’s one of the things I could always appreciate about him. He’s far from perfect as a man, but as a true friend he’s second to none. I take another sip of my cocktail and it urges me to reach out to him. Ok, I’m going to text him.

“Alright alright I’m here, cancel the search party.” He announces jokingly just as I reach for my phone in my purse. “I’m sorry I’m late, the thing with the fellas ran a little later than expected. Have you ordered yet?” He asks, beckoning the waiter over. I know he’s gonna order an extra sweet old fashioned. But rather than wait he pulls the man from his tasks to serve him. It’s one of the things I loathe about the man. People exist to him to serve a purpose and nothing more.

“Oh that’s right you had your man of the hour thing tonight? I can’t believe you are still doing that.” I say while he orders his cocktail. The waiter and I keep tight the secret that I sent the one I ordered for him back moments before he arrived.

“It’s man of the year, Crystal.” He says after thanking the waiter.

“Hour, year, same thing. A bunch of men getting together talking about the women they’ve screwed is just a sad misogynistic dick measuring contest.” I say, scouring the menu of Delfresco’s and setting my sights on the lobster bisque.

“It’s not even like that.” He says with a half hearted smile.

“Then tell me what is it like?” I fold my menu and give him my undivided attention. The flame in candle stops dancing to hear his answer as well. The waiter drops off his drink and is completely ignored by the two of us. Our eyes are deadlocked. Encircling the approaching bullshit he’s about spew. I urge him to please fill my ears with every reason why we could never be more than friends.

“It’s contests…” he says taking a sip of his old fashioned.

“Contest, really? So what’s the contest?” I ask begrudgingly.

“Well this month it’s a work out girl.” His eyes sparkle brighter than the chandeliers above us as the words roll off his tongue. Ashton’s verbal diarrhea of the criteria that has to be met in order to qualify as a winner is almost enough to ruin my appetite. His words soil the white tablecloth with filth and I have to reassure myself that I’m hearing him correctly.

“So wait a minute, you have to meet a woman and sleep with her after she works out but before she showers?” I hear a fork drop on a plate behind me possibly from eavesdropping on our conversation. “That’s disgusting. Who the hell came up with this?” I whisper as not to shock anyone else from the crude conversation in the high end restaurant.

“Well since Dave won man of the year, he got to pick the next-”

“Dave? But Dave is married!” I yelp.

“Yea I know but the married guys get a week head start on account of they have more restrictions. We try to make it as fair as possible.” He says, sounding like a salesman delivering a pitch. Ashton takes a bite of the warm artisan bread smeared with champagne butter, while I choke on his words. With a mouth full Ashton continues “it was neck and neck this year if Lisa wouldn't have gone outta town there’s no way Dave would have been able to hook up with that paralyzed chick. I was this close with mine.”

“Oh God you sick bastard, is this why you were volunteering at the rehabilitation center? To fuck a disabled woman?” The waiter approaches but quickly turns away after overhearing. And it’s then I realize I’ve finished my cocktail and I need much more alcohol to get through this evening.”I could never have meaningless sex with someone!” I proclaim with all the honor of a dignified woman. “Well maybe you should, you might learn something about yourself.” He retorts.

“Pfff, learn something. I mean what do you even tell all these women?”

“Well I mean you can tell her whatever you want but just so long as it’s consensual. I mean we’re not out here drugging women or anything.” He says as if it’s a ray of sunshine on the whole disaster. “Oh and while we’re on the subject can I crash at your place tonight? You’re right next to AVX gym and I really want to get a jump start on this month’s challenge.” He says with his pretty please smile. I have no words and stare back at a monster of a man I thought I knew. In my head I try to see it as just helping out a friend, something I’ve done a million times before. In reality I can’t help but feel I’m contributing to the sick fetishes of childish men and leading a lion onto a cattle ranch. “Can I think about it?” I ask quickly picking up my glass of water and shoveling it down my throat.

“Hey ya know I understand if you say no.” He says or rather, he lies. He wants this, and it’s written all over his face. I bury my face in the menu so as not to make eye contact.

The waiter comes and takes our order and it’s a welcome interruption. Finally I order the lobster bisque I’ve been eyeing and another cocktail. Ashton places his order then stares like a sad puppy. I gaze in every which way except in his general direction. At the chandelier, at the couple laughing loudly over to the left, the waitress serving dishes, anywhere but into his hazel eyes. “Ughh don’t you ever feel bad?” I snap, breaking the palpable silence. “Only once. It was one of our darker challenges. I mean sure we’ve done pregnant women, women at their jobs, even women with cancer but there was nothing worse than doing a widow after the funeral. I mean she’s there seeking love in any form holding onto the memories of a man she loved that can never touch her again. The pain she releases is earth shattering…” he stares off into space as the final words leave his lips. There it is. A small sparkle of humanity is still there twinkling in his eyes. Through the fangs, the thick fur, and cold hard scaly exterior he shows me some version of a human being capable of emotions. I watch as he relives the memory and the guilt of it all. “Are you sure you want to keep playing this game?” The words fall on his ears and leave him brooding midway through chewing. The chatter and background noise grows louder absent his voice. Finally he turns to me with watery eyes.

“Who’s going to want a man like me, who would love me?” A tear rolls down his cheek paving the path for more to come. I’ve known Ashton since 7th grade and I’ve never seen him cry. Not once. But here twice in one night I’ve seen humanity in a heartless man. The shock of it all paralyzes me to act. My friend of years sits before me open, vulnerable and bare yet all I can do is watch. “I gotta get outta here.” He says standing and slinging a few hundred dollar bills on the table. Finally my brain and body reconnect and my feet gain purpose. Glasses of water leap from the table as I chase after him with a half cocked apology and love for a friend. He’s standing on the corner of 85th amongst hundreds of people ignorant to his plight. But even in a sea of strangers I see him; I see his pain. My voice cracks under the pressure of not knowing what to say and having everything to say at the same time. “Ashton! Ashton wait!” A blue Corolla Uber pulls over and Ashton stands in the doorway. The rustle in the trees is on pause, people are at a standstill, and the whole world is on mute as Ashton turns to look at me. “I’m sorry, I know I should have said something back there but you were crying and I had never seen you cry before. I didn’t know if I should start crying or let you have the moment. It was just so much I didn’t think-”

“Crystal what the hell are you saying, you’re kinda talking all over the place?”

“I’m saying you shouldn’t feel like that, you’re a great guy and some lucky woman is going to see that.” A lie that falls to the underbrush of the busy street. Trampled and crushed by the full weight of the truth we both know.

“Yea, but never a great guy for you…” What? What is he saying? Guy for me? I mean I’ve thought about it on drunk nights; but Ashton? He’s like an immature little brother. I couldn’t date him, could I?

“Yea that’s bout what I thought. We can get going now, sorry for-” before he can say another word to the driver something comes over me and I spring into the car. Am I drunk? I must be drunk. I can walk the line and pass the breathalyzer with ease but I have to be drunk. What the hell am I doing? “Actually can you take us to 7211 Palmetto on the upper west side please.” I say with my voice trembling in fear from the lack of brazenness in my actions.

Ashton gently lay his hand onto mine. His touch is the same as any other man’s but why am I so bothered by this? Why does his warmth feel so different? He seranades me with the sweetest words and sings songs of the fairy tale we are starting. He sings the end of his man whore ways, and this childish sex game. Ballads of our happily ever after do little to stop my mind from running rampant. Three times my tongue wrestles with my lips to force it open and stop the cab. On the fourth time we arrive at my door.

I’ve never been so nervous in my own home. It feels like a whole new space where everything is out of place, yet he’s right at home. Ashton props up on the sofa staring at me as I twitch and fidget with everything from my jacket zipper to my hair. He taps the couch cushion beckoning me to sit next to him.

The leather sectional never felt so small. I'm constantly wiping my sweaty palms on my dress and my heart pounds in my ears. His body overlaps mine initiating his intent and I’m swallowed by the desire in his eyes. This is it, am I really about to have casual meaningless sex? No, I can see sincerity in his eyes. I can feel the passion in his touch as clothes come off and we lay bare. I can taste the emotions on his lips and I surrender into the intimacy of the night.

His body pours into me in a series of moans and heavy breathing. Ashton lay beside me panting. Eyes rolling back in his skull and covered in sweat. The rigamortis that once gripped my body is gone and I can finally find words within to say. “Well I guess I was just the appetizer for the woman from the gym tomorrow.” I say jokingly with a half hearted laugh.

“What woman from the gym?” He asks “This week was female best friends…”

-End