Chapter 8: Ryan’s Lunchtime Story

While Sarah and Roxie were quickly becoming inseparable, my friendship with Ryan was growing too. I found him easy to talk to, not judgmental, and his advice was always good. On top of it all, he was fun to be around, and we shared many of the same interests. It’s not that we agreed on everything; we actually disagreed, probably more than we saw eye to eye, but I enjoyed our conversations, and neither of us seemed to take anything personally if, after our heated debates, the other didn’t come around to our point of view. Our wives often found us in the middle of a fiery conversation about sports, finances, or politics and would just shake their heads and leave us alone while they found other ways to keep themselves occupied.

He and I started going to lunch a few times a week. Sometimes we grabbed drinks after work if it wasn’t already late. He listened when I talked about Sarah and the sex life that still wasn’t coming back. He never made me feel pathetic about it. He just nodded and said these things took time.

In addition to going to lunch together a few times a week at work, we also made a point of going out for drinks at a local sports bar on Mondays to watch the Monday Night Football game. One night, during a particularly boring game, we started telling each other stories. Ryan had already told me a couple of stories about him and Roxie that sounded exaggerated. But the one he told me that night was definitely the worst.

“We went out to dinner last night after you all left,” he said, leaning back in the booth and relaxing with his beer in his hand. “We both had a little too much to drink, and I was horny as hell after watching Roxie, your wife, and Cindy parading around the pool all day wearing next to nothing. Roxie teased me nonstop during dinner, so I paid the bill in cash and left a huge tip because I didn’t want to wait for them to make change, and we headed to the parking garage. It was already pretty late, and no one was around; I think only one or two cars were left in the structure. Anyways, the attendant was this older guy, maybe sixty, sitting in his little booth with his head down like he was reading something or maybe napping. I pointed him out to Roxie, and as we walked to the car we argued over whether he was reading something, which is what I thought, or asleep, which is what Roxie thought. Finally, I said, let’s settle it: if you flash him your tits and he looks up, then we know he was reading something, and I win. If he is asleep like you think, he won’t notice. So, pull up your blouse and shake the girls and we will see who is right”