If anybody asks, it was my Grandma who got me dating again. At eighty-nine years old, she had, until recently, desired to feel the cool embrace of death. However, after a recent health scare, my Grandma has felt that time is of the essence. She has become increasingly fond of loudly and pointedly raising uncomfortable questions at inappropriate times regardless of their relevance.

"Are you gay?" she asked, during a pause in our family's Thanksgiving dinner conversation. Forks were hung onto, as everyone's eyes gleamed at this missile that Grandma had lobbed in my direction. No one attempted to interrupt.

"What? Where, where did--,"I said.

"Well, you know now, it is okay. There are people who are. On that Jenny Jones yesterday..."

"No. Grandma...", I said shaking my head, "I'm not gay."

"Are you sure?" Grandma asked.

"Mom...," my father said.

"I'm asking your son something, not you," she snapped.

"I-I went out with someone. Last week,"

"With a girl?"

"With Michelle. I was with her," I said.

My Grandma has begun to often remind me that by the time she was twenty-three, she was already married. Michelle and I had dated for two years and had talked about getting engaged. That was all it amounted to, because it just didn't work out with her. It had been a tumultuous year trying to find a stable job and after Michelle and I ended things dating hasn't really been a big priority. Sure, there have been girls. For the most part, I have stuck to paddling around the shallow end of the dating pool. I had wanted to get my life set straight; find a job, no limits. The last thing I wanted was to start speaking in plural pronouns before I had my equilibrium back. It was in the interest of regaining my footing again that I did something I swore I'd never do -- I moved in with my mother.

Upon moving back into my mother's house I began anticipating my departure. I had been sending out dozens of resumes for months and knew I'd be on my way again. I didn't even bother to unpack; it was just a matter of time. My mother was thrilled to have me around again. She had been living alone for a year or so after the divorce. My Dad got the house and she had picked up and returned to Milwaukee. She knew people here but I knew no one. All my friends were hours away working or finishing school. Before I moved back in, Mom had talked about getting a pet, but, as she now liked to tell people -- I was easier to train and less to pick up after. Week after week -- nothing else had turned up. The thing that happens when you have mass amounts of free time alone is that you start to accumulate habits to fill the time. Time becomes a caloric unit that has to be consumed so that you can feel whole. Your day, your week has to account for something. The problem is that to fill the time I found myself taking up these strange routines. I'd be home alone and I'd have to have something on -- the T.V., a radio, anything. I just needed the noise. And, many of my afternoons were spent wandering from the south side of Milwaukee to the north, usually hitting all of the CD and used book stores along the way. It wasn't to cross-check selections or price, but just so I could browse. This compulsion -- this is what it became -- wasn't about accomplishing anything. It had as much to do with filling time as it did with this theory my friend Mark had. He really believed that in these places, record stores, book stores, artsy movie theatres, people like us, dorks, could find camaraderie. Places like these allowed people's tastes to be observed and judged. Then, if only somehow conversation could be struck up with someone; it would maybe be seen that we weren't alone.

So, I ended up giving in. When I finally was offered a job, I snatched it out of desperation. I took a job temping on an assembly line, the real exciting stuff. I did this as much because I couldn't stand the idea of another handout from Mom and my attempts to interact with likeminded people seemed to be getting me no where. Propositioning someone might have been easier than trying to striking up conversation in one of those overpriced bookstore/coffeeshops. "What would you like?" "House blend." "Oh-kay." "Is this the new Aimee Mann disc?" "Hmmmph...." "You're playing it... You don't--" "My manager. [Insert obligatory anti-corporate authoritarian eye roll] He, like read that it's one of Rolling Stone's best of the year picks so he's like all about Aimee Mann all of a sudden. It's not even like he knew who she was until I introduced him." I imagine employees of these kinds of places are burdened with conversation from pseudo trendy posers constantly. I wasn't trying to be apart of any of that, I just wanted to talk.

To be honest, I'm not the type of person who feels confident enough to just act on instinct. I gestate, stew, and slow roast possibilities. Most times, I just end up letting things happen to me. At work, my co-worker Nikki, who has one of those monitoring type devices on her ankle, came up to me and said: "You know what I heard? People was fuckin' in the dude's bathroom." I don't really know Nikki at all but I know she knows I know, or else she's checking. This morning, twenty minutes after our break I walked into the bathroom to hear her and another co-worker, Matt having sex in a stall. Okay, I don't know it was them. But, it was Matt's shoes and Nikki's name I heard being grunted as the toilet repeatedly flushed.

"You gotta girl?" Nikki asked later.

I shook my head and mumbled about my ex and being new in town.

"Aw, hell no. You gotta meet my girl Lexi, she's just your type," Nikki said.

Of course, during the entire two whole other times in which she spoke and I nodded, Nikki was up to date on my taste in women. A few days later, I was shown poorly lit pictures and told of this Lexi's many fine traits. They included: that she's cute, a sweetheart, has no kids, "got her shit together", and she "ain't got the itch anymore." I inquired as to what itch and Nikki just shook her head matter-a-factly, "You know down there." After that glowing recommendation, what was I going to say?

"You're gonna hook-up with all a' us tomorrow night?" Nikki said.

"Well...I," I managed.

"You're-gonna-hook-up-with-us-tomorrow-right?

"Ah, I, I might?" I said.

"What else you gonna do? Whack off?" Nikki said as she wrote down her number. She had me, I guess, and well, I didn't have anything to do. Since I seemed incapable of creating a convincing excuse, I agreed. What could it hurt? At least then maybe we'd have something in common to talk about next week. That was a plus that made the uncertainties seem worth it.

So. Early the next evening I got a call from Nikki who said I should come over to her place, where "We'll just kick it. Stay at my place. Chill. Play some board games and do tequila shots." I said okay. Then, the scenarios began to run in my head. These aren't Trivial Pursuit people. These are Naked Chutes and Ladders people. Before leaving I made sure that I was wearing boxers with a button on the fly. For whatever reason, there aren't a lot of button fly boxers- either there was a shortage or someone decided the modification lent itself well to other spontaneous desires. All I knew was that I didn't want my junk making an appearance if I found myself on the losing end of a Strip Connect Four Tournament.

Weather chasers often remark about the tranquil nature that precedes ominous storm clouds. As I ventured into Nikki's neighborhood I began to feel the gathering of dark clouds of butterflies gnawing in me. These weren't nerves or a mere gut ache but a fight or flight instinct. Maybe it was the lack of working street lights. Maybe it was the guy on the corner with the forty who was furiously playing with himself. Maybe it was because I was about to meet a girl, who I was suppose to find an interest in, and, who according to Matt owned a pair of handcuffs and meowed when she got really excited. "What about the...," I had asked him, gesturing towards my crotch with scuttling crab leg-like fingers.

"Man, some shows are worth the price of admission," Matt had said.

Now, outside I repeatedly held down the silent doorbell. Nothing. I proceeded to pound on what I was told was Nikki's door. I recognized her car slumped in the driveway, the baby toys and crumbs littering the back seat. I went back to my vehicle and did what I had been originally told to do--I laid on my horn. Much to my surprise and fear, her door opened. So did everyone else's on the block, as if quite naturally company was expected and sadly, I was what turned up.

Inside I was greeted by the smell of tacos and dirty diapers. I smiled and said "hi" at a few of the girls, friends of Nikki's roommate Mandy, as they huddled around the TV. They nodded. Matt was stirring the meat sizzling in the frying pan. Matt's cornrows were combed out and now he a small round afro. "You eat?" he said. I nodded that I had. He gestured for me to take a seat at the table.

I had been standing in the middle of what can only be considered a meteorological miracle. There was no damage to the foundation, yet either a whirlwind or a pack of ravaged dogs had helped drag out all of the neighborhood's garbage and deposited it here. Sitting amongst all of it, in a chair picking at her nail polish was a girl I recognized as Lexi. I said "hi" and she looked up through her long brown hair, pushed the limp strands behind her ears and smiled. Lexi had on a nice red ribbed sweater and black pants that hugged her body. She looked good. Nikki's photos did not do her justice, but with all of the information Matt kept putting in my head I kept visualizing a freak ho under the surface. Nikki entered the room and introduced us.

"Hi," I said.

"I'm Lexi," she replied.

This exchange, while simple, I would later realize would be amongst our longest conversations.

Sitting across from Lexi, I chopped tomatoes so I could feel useful as we watched Matt and Nikki flirt while they got the other taco ingredients together. I slid the blade through the tomatoes' soft skin with a slow, smooth motion, as I tried not to picture my fingertips running along the small of Lexi's back. This really wasn't about gaining a sex buddy, it had to do with attention--I missed having someone notice me. As if responding to that exact thought, Lexi lets an eye drift in my direction as she wraps hair around her finger. She does this with not so much an inclination of interest, but because I am in her immediate line of vision.

"Ah. Um, where, where do you...work?" I said.

"U.S. Cellular," she says.

"Do you like it?"

"Uh, I guess."

"Ah...Nikki...Nikki says, you like to bowl. Do you?" I wondered.

"Yeah," Lexi sighs, bored, I think with more than just the conversation.

"You... you'll maybe have to show me sometime, I-I mean-I really suck. I-you might be able to give me some tips or something," I stammered, knowing this was going nowhere fast. Either I had just witnessed Lexi's eyes glaze over or else she has slipped into a comatose state. I stop talking and focus on cutting tomatoes for their tacos. She leaves the room, again returning to Mandy and the posse of girls watching T.V.

Figuring that I've already failed to make at least a friend, I attempt conversation with Nikki and Matt, the people I do know. All we have in common is work. We package cleaning products and we hate it. Although, we do excel at whining and complaining it is a great deal less fun when we aren't getting paid for it. I ask about Maya, Nikki's three year old daughter. "She good," Nikki responds in a very measured tone, sounding like she has everything rehearsed just in case I happen to whip out a badge and claim that "I'm just doing my job, ma'am. For the good of the child."

"But are you gonna hit that?" Nikki inquires.

"Ah...I-I don't think-is she really interested? She keeps going into the other room" I said.

"Lexi's just shy. Git a few drinks in that girl, and-uurgh!-she's a handful," Matt adds as Nikki strikes him with a wooden spoon.

"Shut the fuck up, I don't wanna hear 'bout it," Nikki says as she punches his shoulder. It's hard to tell if they liked just fucking with me or if they were actually trying to help me out. I figure that it's probably still too early to leave unless I attempt to froth at the mouth and begin to shake epileptically. Would they even notice? Would chipped dishes, paycheck stubs and see through Happy Meal boxes be caked upon me until life began to spurt back into me?

As the evening progresses we play a few more rounds of this music room game. Lexi and I do mumble a few words to each other, at times they even become sentences. At least by this point alcohol has been provided and I have something to do with my hands beside wring them. Matt and I play cards and he tells me something that blows my mind--Lexi likes me.

"How is that possible? What, did you break her code?" I said, with an eye roll.

"Naw. Don't you worry; I can git you the hook-up. Aaiight?" Matt says, trying to sound reassuring. I try again to spark up conversation with Lexi, only most of the time her eyes are focused in another direction checking out Mandy and the girls in the other room or watching the ants crawl on the ceiling around the light fixture. I feel guilty. Here, Nikki was hooking me up with her best friend. It was as if she were saying, "Here. This is the best bottle of wine we have and I've saved it for just the right occasion." And I wanted to appreciate it for what it was-a befuddled gesture of potential friendship from Nikki. I wanted to at least give this a chance because turning down this offer might seem like I was turning down a chance to get to know Nikki and Matt. And now, I wish I had because we are nothing alike.

After a few beers we sat at the table and Lexi opened the purchased board game that she got for this very occasion. Everyone is told what to do, but the rules had to be shouted repeatedly over Mandy, who has emerged from a backroom. This is the other one I was told about by Matt. Mandy is one of the few girls present he hasn't tried to fuck. She'd had a long a crush on Lexi and was prone to staring at Lexi's ass and offering a commentary as well. Mandy's face looks like the results of a coloring book after a retarded four year-old got a hold of a crayon. Her pale white skin jutted around the edges of the make-up. Mandy was decked out in her FUBU gear; her pants consumed her like a potato sack. Her black and white pinstripe jersey was big enough to have come right off the back of one of theYankees. She loudly, proudly was representing, "all her girlz still kickin' it BACK IN THE LOCK UP. WHAZZUP!!" Or so she said. Matt had told me that Mandy liked to talk about her stint in the lock up when new people were around. I guess it gave her like a weird insecure power trip over somebody who'd never been on the inside before. Mandy's voice only seemed to work in two octaves. "Can we git some more FORTIES UP IN DIS MUTHAFUCKER!!" she barked for our attention, "Cuz, ya know what? I ain't had pussy in so long I DAMN NEAR FUCK'D YOUR CAT!!" Mandy's Tourette-like explosions came from out of the blue like that, which amused me more so than the cat. Matt joked to me later that Mandy could be my consolation prize if things with Lexi didn't work out and I still wanted a piece.

After a few more shots of tequila Mandy told me that Lexi was her pussy and that I was wasting my time. I chuckled, indifferent to it all. "Shut the fuck up," Lexi said, quick to respond. From the way Nikki made it sound, Lexi was just another girl that Mandy hadn't had the chance to fuck yet. I was starting to see that Nikki's purpose for introducing us might be more about running interference between Lexi and Mandy. With each drink Lexi's coy façade faded and she would awkwardly flirt back with Mandy whenever she thought no one would notice.

Somewhere in-between the fifth and final attempt to explain the rules of the board game one of the ants lost its grip on the ceiling and fell head first into Mandy's full shot glass. I was the only one to notice. "Mandy. Drink up," I said, nudging her.

"Why?" She said.

"You want to get laid, right? Don't want you to be too sober to be choosey," I said, with the realization that maybe I'd had enough Tequila for one night. The last thing I wanted was her to think I had any interest in her. In one felt swoop, the ant's journey continued, with a lemon juice chaser. As Mandy put down the shot glass, my eye caught the smooth, perfectly round indented scar on her forearm. It could have been a bullet wound, a cigar burn, or the result of trying to solder on a nickel during shop class. Any of them seemed likely.

Soon we were out of beer signifying the end of the night for me. I had gotten up to leave when Matt put some money in my hand.

"Can you get some more?" He asked.

"I was gonna get going," I said.

"Just get a case and then if you want, go," Matt said.

Mandy volunteered to go with me and Lexi shot us both-or maybe just Mandy-a pouty bottom lip. Mandy told me of a near-by convenience store that sells liquor after hours. As we drove towards the store she asked me about school.

"You went to school?" Mandy asked.

"Yeah,"

"Trade school?" she said.

"No. A university," I almost whispered.

"I almost got my G.E.D. I use ta ride da short bus, YA KNAAMEAN? I ain't no test taker. I can't be FILLIN' NO BUBBLES." I knew what she meant; I had always hated tests too. I told her of my new trials and tribulations packing cleaning products, the boredom of it all.

"I just fill boxes all day," I complain.

"I hear ya," she says.

In the corner liquor store at every turn I await the cold metallic lips of a .38 against my temple. We are only a few blocks from Nikki's because as Mandy says: "In the ghetto somebody always needs a drink." I don't need my I.D. to purchase the repackaged, discounted MGD and considering the guy behind the counter's giddiness at our choice, I'm especially glad I'm not drinking it. I point out to Mandy--"Horny Goat Weed"-Guaranteed, 110% more potent than Spanish Fly. We snicker and feel superior because we think we don't need it.

"You a good shit," she says as I open the car door for her. A big grin emerges and for a minute Mandy is quiet. "Thanks. That's what my Mom tells me," I reply.

"Lexi's still my pussy. She just don't know it yet," Mandy says with finality.

After we returned, the evening continued to wind down. Maya arrived near eleven and I assumed she would be carried in, asleep like most two year olds. Quite the opposite--she was wide-eyed, licking salt off her hand just like her mommy and hitting people up for pennies to put in the magic pocket on her Hilfiger overalls. Nikki was quickly getting annoyed with her daughter's exuberance and I just couldn't stand watching her pretend to be a mother.

"Maya. Why don'tchu go play in Mama's room. Go play Hide n' Seek," she said.

"Yeah," said Matt, "See if you can find any a' yer Christmas presents.

"Go hide. Mama'll come find you." Maya scampered off and Nikki downed another shot.

I handed over the beer and excused myself so that I could go to the bathroom before I left. When I re-entered the room I noticed a small group of girls had stopped by to see Mandy and two of them began competing for Mandy's attention. Lexi tried to ignore them. "They her bitches," Matt whispered to me before he let out a high pitched drunken giggle. I can't say that I've ever really been in the presence of a lot of lesbians, if they were lesbians that is. Realizing that more than half the room also liked girls, I wanted to feel a kinship. I wanted to talk shop, hear how tuna tastes from the fish's mouth. "I like to be eaten wit nuthin' but cherry syrup," one claimed.

"Ever try motor oil," asked another girl with a twitch and a nappy weave. Lexi left the room and Mandy didn't seem to notice.

"I ain't never had no twat WIT MOTOR OIL," barked Mandy.

This small gathering of girl-loving-ladies continued to discuss their favorite ways to play the pussy Pepsi challenge, while we fled to another room. It was safe to say that I will no longer look at motor oil or a vagina in the same way.

Lexi decided it was time to call it a night and crashed in Nikki's room. I decided it was time to retreat while I still could. I started to say my good-byes and was told that I had to talk to Lexi before leaving. I walked towards the bedroom door and emerging from the darkness was Maya, with a terse look on her tiny little face and a prosthetic dildo strapped to her head. I knew what this was about. A few weeks ago, Mandy had some pent up frustration she found herself looking to release. A little later, her brother walked in on her and found her going to town using his bong to scratch that itch. This was Nikki's gag Christmas gift to her, only now Maya was looked at me with a furrowed brow and a pair of angry crinkled eyes. She toed the ground as she lowered her head, the pale flaccid penis extended in my direction as she charged forward. I sidestepped her and Maya crashed into the wall. The dull thud filled the air and topsy-turvy she looked at me cock-eyed. Nikki saw her and went ballistic, she was snooping and she ruined Mandy's present, which now crooked to the left. I went into the dark bedroom and peered down towards Lexi. She extended her arms, and I leaned down to hug her as she said something about probably seeing me around again. Lexi ran her hand along my cheek, gliding down my torso, and lays her hand on my crotch. Lexi smirks and cups my junk. I said, "Yeah..." and left it at that.