PART I

Every single unmarried female between 18 and 32 knows me.

No, not my name, but WHO I am.

I am the guy whose calls you will not return, but who you will call on the cold winter night when your car battery died at the mall and you need a jump.

I am the guy you call to fix the leaking toilet on Saturday afternoon before your party I was not invited to.

I am the guy you take to weddings and Christmas Parties because I am polite, make a good impression and your mothers and aunts all like me.

I am the guy after asking you on a date you tell, “Call me Saturday, we’ll see,” because you hope something better may come along. I am a good back-up plan as I always pay, and treat you well but won’t pressure you for sex after.

I am the “Friend”, the ‘Not-so-bad-you-lose-the-number-friend’, but the ‘Not-quite-good-enough-to make-an-effort-for-friend’. I am “Invisible” (Well, until you need me).

I was “that” guy all thru school, a solid C student, stable middle class, raised to be polite and kind to others. Never on any sports teams, always working after school because my parents made too much for government programs, but too poor to have anything but Kmart jeans and the budget frames for my eyeglasses.

I was the “nice” guy who opened doors for you and your girlfriends and allowed you to go ahead of me in the lunch line, acts that you never even acknowledged.

You know what they say about where “nice” guys finish? Popular lore says ‘last’, but it is untrue, we nice guys do not always finish last, we just never get noticed, and nobody would know if we finished last or at all.

Too rich for financial aid, but not smart enough, or athletic enough for a scholarship, I attended community college while working. I grew steadily thru the ranks at work, getting enough responsibility to get the job done, but not the credit as promotions went to the more vocal “visible guys”.

Like most of my invisible peers, I moved out at 18, bought a “fixer upper” house and spent most of my time learning about warped floors, moldings, tile and the like.

Was my life lonely? I do not know as it had always been this way. I got a dog from the local rescue, an older Doberman with one ear that would not stand up. Then a local mutt off the street joined us a few months later. Everyone knows no matter how little money and few possessions you own, having a dog makes you rich. When a stray cat took up residence in my house I figured I was now positively wealthy.

Then suddenly something very odd happened. After my 32^nd birthday, girls started returning my calls. I got not only dates, but overnights. My social calendar went from my left hand to having to actually write down and turn down invitations.

Was I happy? Does the Pope shit in the woods? Is a Bear Catholic? Yes, that is how happy, but confused I was.

The reason for my newfound “stud-lyness” was given to me by JoAnne, a retired schoolteacher who worked at the convenience store where I got my coffee each morning.

JoAnne was big rawboned, chain-smoking lady who did not give a damn about anyone’s opinion. JoAnne could crack wise with any of the customers from construction workers to Bank Presidents, and had a loyal following at the store. She mainly worked to keep busy after her longtime partner had passed away.

“Eric my boy. You are what is known as a ‘Clock Stopper’.” JoAnne told me.

I was puzzled. “I have heard of being so ugly your face would stop a clock. Is that what you mean?”

JoAnne exhaled a stream of smoke before continuing. “Nah. I am talking about the young ladies biological clock.” JoAnne looked at her cigarette for a second before continuing. “Most every lady knows her biological window for having kids gets REAL dangerous after age 35.”

I interrupted. “JoAnne, that is not really true anymore...”

She waved her hand to both clear the smoke and dismiss my objection. “Yea, yea, yea Eric. It is true odds are better today than back in my time, but the odds still get stacked not in your favor after age 35. So these gals wake up one morning and they are not 22 years old anymore, but 32 years old. Carrying a kid is a year, so they gotta get knocked up by 34 years, if they want just one kid. Add in courtship, finances and most important finding the right guy and already they are out of time, so BAM! You my pal Eric, become the ‘Clock Stopper’ stud.”

I shook my head. “Lots of single guys out there, much better than me as sperm donor husbands.”

JoAnne laughed as she blew another steam of smoke. “Sure, lots and lots of sperm donor losers, not a lot of nice Husband material. Ladies do not want some mamma’s boy living in their parent’s basement, or a man child who will play video games but who will not help change diapers. These gals quickly take stock of the available talent and find most all the good candidates are gay or already married.”

JoAnne paused. “Eric, you see, supposedly we now know the ‘Best Age’ to get married. When tying the knot at 28 to 32 there’s a low risk of divorce, not too young and not all that old. The Goldilocks theory of marriage. The smarter gals got all the bad boy and losers out of their system and locked up all good nice men, like yourself early on. They now have the house, car, 2.5 kids and career.”

I laughed. “So basically you are saying at this point in time, after we cancel out gay dudes and married men, I suck the least out of what is left over?”

JoAnne grinned. “When you’re young, most of your life proceeds in a linear way. You graduate from high school, then college, then get a job, but real life relationships don’t progress as smoothly. So how do you plan for something like marriage and a life partner that is not as straightforward as making deposits into a 401(k) plan or buying health insurance?”

JoAnne flicked an ash. “The smart females know if you want to have a relationship, you do what you need to do. Ditch the loser Bad boys and look for the nice stable good guys. They get out of the nightclubs, get off the couch and go to the cousin’s friend’s birthday party, because THAT is where you will find REAL men, not boys.”

I shook my head. “You can’t plot the path of your life ahead of time, as if it were a chart waiting for you to fill in the data points, especially when those life events depend on other people. You can decide to move somewhere by a certain age, sure, or save up a certain amount of money to buy a house or a car months or years in the future, but that is about it.”

JoAnne rolled her eyes. “You can decide ahead of time exactly when you will marry, have a child or make a certain amount of money. Sure, there are other people or factors involved: potential partners, fertility fluctuation, employers, and the economy at large. I don’t have a new study here to back me up, but in my experience — not as a sociologist or economist, an old adage is still true: ‘Chance Favors the Prepared Man’, or woman as it is.”

She put away her lighter. “Eric, you are being deadline dated. I bet your first dates are asking about your five-year plan or how large a family you want.”

I stared at JoAnne. “How did you know?”

JoAnne chuckled. “When her friends are welcoming babies into the world, or they’re freezing their eggs, the uncertainty is overwhelming. They may love their life, but they envisioned more. The family piece of that dream for that future, which always seemed like a given, is now a question mark. I recall a lot of this from Lisa Bonos of the Washington Post on just this topic.”

I emptied the last of my coffee. “So, I am in the driver’s seat?”

JoAnne nodded. “To a larger extent yes, but do not drive off a cliff. Do not sleep with anyone crazier than yourself. Look for a life partner, not just a bed partner. Find a stable gal, someone who will back you up, be the mother of your children. Remember, beauty fades, but a good women will always be a good women.”

As I wandered away to my car, I realized JoAnne had given me a lot to think about. I truly took her words to heart and culled out all but the most stable females who would be a good match for my life. When I finally found the perfect women, it was a lady even my mother would love, a gal that...

Of course, this is all bullshit. I chose my wife just the way men have chosen their mates since God gave us penises. I picked the girl with the biggest breasts who would have sex with me. Now in my defense, she did have a nice ass, also. Her name was Kelly.

KELLY STORY

I looked at the chip on my fingernail and silently swore as my mother handed me aspirin to calm my pounding headache.

Mom sighed as she pushed a cup of coffee across the table at me. “Kelly, what is all this drama about?”

We were in her small condo. Mom and Dad had split after I left for college. Things were tense a few years before that, but in my self-absorbed final years of high school, I just shrugged it off. Mom had bought this place with her share of our home sale.

Dad would not tell me why they split and Mom just said it was not all Dad’s fault. I did not pry any farther, but I knew Mom missed her big backyard and garden, although the small condo did have a larger swimming pool.

I gulped down some coffee before answering. “That PRICK Richard cheated on me! I caught him in bed with what I thought was my best friend.”

Mom looked puzzled. “He cheated on you again?”

I waved my hand at her. “No, that was Kevin who cheated on me before. This is the new guy I have been seeing for about a year.”

“Wow!” Mom said leaning back. “That is like the fourth guy who has cheated on you.”

I shook my head. “It seems like they all end up cheating on me, except for Tony.”

Mom made a face. “Was Tony not married with kids?”

I drank some more coffee. “Yea, but I didn’t know that then. At least he did not cheat on me with my BFF”

“Just his wife.” Mom reminded me.

“Why are all men such dicks?” I asked “Relationships are so hard. It’s like a full-time job, and we should treat it like one. If your boyfriend wants to leave you, they should give you two weeks’ notice. There should be severance pay, and before they leave.”

Mom took a sip before answering. “If you’re giving your all and it’s not enough, you’re probably giving it to the wrong person.”

“Mom, what are you talking about?”

“Kelly, think for a second. What do all these cheating men you date have in common?”

“They are all cheating dicks!”

Mom made a face. “And what else do they have in common?” I just looked at her before she continued. “Kelly, it is almost you are picking boys that are going to fail.”

Rolling my eyes I said “If I try to fail and succeed, which have I done?”

She took one of my hands. “Kelly, you are an adult mature women over 30 years old now. You have a good job and both brains and beauty. It may be time to stop playing with these man child bad boys still living in their parents basement and start hanging out with real men.”

I pulled back my hand in irritation. “What is wrong with the guys I date?” Mom just stared at me. “Okay, besides the cheating part?”

Mom rolled her eyes. “What happened last winter when your car battery died at the mall and you called your boyfriend?”

“He said he couldn’t come because he was playing Call of Duty with his friends.”

Making a face Mom said “So who did you call?”

“Dad.” I replied, then quickly added. “But Dad was on a business trip so he called Eric.”

Mom leaned back. “So, Eric came out in in the middle of the night, in sub-zero freezing conditions to jump start your car. Meanwhile your ‘boyfriend’ was inside warm and dry, playing video games while his girlfriend was freezing in an empty parking lot late at night.” I nodded. “Didn’t Eric also bring you a thermos of hot chocolate, too?”

“Well it was cold! I had been waiting!” I countered defensively. “Besides, I told Eric thank you. He said it was no big deal.”

Mom nodded. “And when your toilet broke and was leaking water all over the floor before your party, who did you call.”

“It was Saturday, and plumbers wanted a fortune to come out, so yeah, I called Eric.”

“Because your boyfriend was...” Mom questioned.

“Okay, okay, my boyfriend was too hung over from the night before and would not answer his phone.”

“Well.” Mom mused. “At least Eric had a good time at the party. Oh, wait, you did not invite Eric to the party did you? The MAN who saved the day you sent home, right?”

“We already had too many people coming over. Besides I am sure Eric had other plans already,” I stammered. Even to me that answer sounded lame.

“Of course Kelly.” Mom patronized.

“It’s not like I don’t do nice stuff for Eric. I brought him to Cousin Tina’s wedding.”

“Yes” Mom countered. “At the last minute after you broke up with Tom or John or Kevin who dumped you for that waitress.”

“Eric had fun” I said meekly. “He said he had nothing going on anyway.”

Mom nodded. “Yes, on his day off with no notice I am sure Eric was ‘thrilled’ to drive two hours to sit and listen to your grandma and Aunt Edith talk his ear off and dance to a really bad DJ with a bunch of people he did not know.”

“Okay Mom, I get it, but Eric is just so ... Eric. He is a guy you hardly even notice, just kinda ... there. Like a dependable cell phone or watch.”

Mom smirked over her coffee cup. “Is that a bad thing? Think for a moment, of all your male friends over the past decade you have been with. Can you see any of those jackasses changing your baby’s diapers or taking your child to Young at Art?”

“Oh God Mom, Please...”

Mom lifted up her coffee cup at me. “Any Jackass can kick down a barn. It takes a carpenter to build one.”

I had enough and got up to leave. “Mom, I gotta go. Thanks for the coffee, but I got a million things to do and I promised I would meet Dad for an early dinner.”

Mom got a sad look in her eyes. “Okay Kelly, tell your father I said hello.”

I nodded and gave Mom a kiss. Mom hesitated and asked softly. “Does your father ever ask about me?”

I put on a tight smile and left the condo.

I thought about what Mom had said on the drive to Dads place. It actually pissed me off. I had gone to Mom for a little comfort after catching that skank with my boyfriend ... ex-boyfriend, not a lecture on birds, bees and timelines.

It was actually so unfair; we are told we can do anything a man can do and when we do we are called “bitches”. Now we are expected to be a CEO in the boardroom, Chef in the kitchen, Porn star in the bedroom then suddenly, ‘Oh, by the way, you only got a window to have the perfect kids and hubby’, otherwise it’s the BIG “L” for LOSER for you!”

Stranded at the longest stoplight in town I happened to glance over at the park. Just to taunt me, God had choreographed a domestic scene where some guy chased two little boys around a tree while a lady, obviously the wife, sat with a big dog at a nearby bench. It looked like a Norman Rockwell-ish commercial for life insurance.

The guy was not fat, but definably nothing compare to the buff dudes I was used to. The man had a typical “Dad Bod,” but when he held both boys in his arms as they rolled on the ground with the children squealing in delight, I suddenly felt my panties get wet.

“What the hell?” I thought. “I’ll give Eric a call; maybe we can go out this weekend. Nothing serious, just test the waters a bit. Eric deserves a treat.”

I was in a Starbucks, my Cinnamon dolce light frappuccino blended coffee in one hand and phone in the other.

“HI Eric! It’s Kelly, How you been?”

“Kelly? Wow great to hear from you.” Eric seemed genuinely happy I called. “What’s up? Your car battery die again?”

“No, no, nothing like that Eric. I just called to say ‘Hi’ and see if you wanna hang out Friday.”

“Ah ... Um that sounds great Kelly, but Gina is coming over Friday. She is babysitting her five-year-old nephew. We are going to take him to that fireworks display at Young at Art on Friday evening.”

I cursed under my breath “THAT BITCH Gina!” but got myself under control. “Oh, that sounds great. I am sure Gina has to get the kid to bed after that. You wanna hit a club after she bails?”

Eric laughed. “No can do, I promised the boy we could watch the Sponge Bob movie on my big screen TV after the fireworks. Me, Gina and the boy gonna make it a sleepover, I got popcorn in four different flavors, the whole works. Then Saturday morning we are all going to head over to Home Depot for the children’s workshop. Lad is going to build a birdhouse.”

“Okay Eric, sounds like fun for everyone.” I prayed the kid would hit Gina in the head with a hammer. “Well, how about you pick me up Saturday night? We can swing by that new place on 23^rd Ave.”

“Can I take a rain check Kelly? Anna and I are going to the XYZ Concert on Saturday.”

“Seriously? Anna got XYZ tickets? They have been sold out for months.”

“Yeah I know right? I been trying to get tickets since I heard XYZ was playing here. They are my favorite band. Anna said she got the tickets at a company raffle.”

I took a sip of my coffee. I had visons of what that slut Anna had done to get those tickets, but I put on my sweetest voice. “Oh Eric, I am so jealous. Tell you what, why do we not meet for brunch Sunday and you can tell me all about the concert.”

“Maybe later, Kelly? Sunday morning Vicki is bringing her dog over. Vicki, me, Achilles my dog, and Vicki’s dog are going to the dog park to play doggie Frisbee.”

“You have a dog named Achilles?”

Eric laughed. “Yeah, you met him, remember, the Doberman with only one standing ear? I always wanted to name a dog Achilles. This way when we walk I could say, ‘Achilles, heel!’” He laughed at his own joke. “You don’t remember my two other pets the mutt and stray cat ‘Spoiled’ and ‘Rotten’?”

It took all my self-control to blurt out I had a hard time remembering him. “My God Eric, you got quite the social calendar.”

“Yeah, crazy, right?” He chuckled. “Up to last spring the only way I could get anyone of the opposite sex to talk to me was if I had a tool in my hand fixing a clogged drain or broken widget of theirs. I guess it must be my new aftershave.”

You poor clueless fool, I thought as Eric continued. “Kelly, how about...” It sounded like he was turning a page. “Um ... Sunday evening? I can barbeque something and we can watch a 3D classic movie, I even got the glasses.”

Now I was pissed. I was not going to be scheduled like a dental appointment. “Eric, I don’t know. How about you call me Sunday and I’ll let you know.”

I could almost hear Eric shrug thru the phone. “Okay Kelly, but why don’t you give me a call in case I forget. Oh, so sorry, there is someone on the other line. I gotta go. Hope to see you Sunday. Bye!”

I sat there staring at my phone with its ‘CALL ENDED’ display, my Cinnamon dolce light frappuccino blended coffee now long forgotten.

“What the FUCK!” I said out loud, louder then I intended drawing some stares. Did Eric just hang up on ME!

I got up and slammed my cup into the trash. How could Eric choose those ... bimbos over me? I had a bigger cup size them all those bitches put together. Hell, altogether those Trailer park whores barely had enough brainpower to blow their nose.

My Dad was quite amused by my interaction with Eric.

“Honey, it sounds like you are a seller in a buyer’s market.”

We were sitting outside on the large veranda of Dads place. His place was much bigger than Moms and overlooked the lake were he kept his boat. Dad was grilling on a sizable setup that would have looked right at home in any restaurant. He was still pretty fit, and with his tan and salt and pepper hair he could be an extra in any senior living complex commercial.

“But, Dad, it is just not fair! I have known Eric forever, I got the degree, the career, and I don’t wanna be vain, but I kick butt against all those tramps in looks.”

Dad laughed as he sat down. “Do not forget your humility.”

I stuck my tongue out at him. “You are the one that told me to be humble, but not invisible.”

“Kelly, oddly enough I actually have an understanding of what Eric is going through. When your Mom ... when I moved here, I had more uh ... ah ... female company then an Oprah Convention. I had been out of the dating game for a long while. I am not sure if the rules are different at my age or if there any rules at all anymore, but the ladies here do not mess around and are not shy about what they want. Be it dinner, dancing, or, um, physical companionship.”

I made a gagging motion putting my finger down my throat. “OMG, Dad! TMI! TMI!”

Dad slapped my leg and let out a hardy laugh. “I know Honey, the two people in the world you never want to think about having sex are your parents and your children.”

He rose to turn down the grill. “My point is, Kelly, the ladies around here take advantage of what used to be a famous Roman saying, ‘Carpe diem, quam minimum credula postero’, which means ‘Seize the day, put very little trust in tomorrow’.”

I put down my glass. “You know, Dad, you are right...”

He interrupted “You know how much I like hearing that...”

I snapped him with a napkin

“So you gonna call Eric?” Dad asked refilling my glass.

“You mean now?”

“Carpe diem, quam minimum credula postero!” Dad repeated with an exaggerated flourish.

I rolled my eyes while pulling out my phone and scrolling for Eric’s number.

I gave Dad a thumbs up when Eric answered the phone. “Hi, Eric, It is Kelly again.”

“Yeah, I saw your name on my display. You okay? I never got two calls from you in one day before unless something was wrong.”

“No, everything is fine Eric. I just wanted to let you know we are on for that Sunday movie D thing.”

I heard Eric chuckle. “It is 3D, silly. But we gonna need to reschedule. Kim found out I had a Director’s cut of the 3D ‘Creature from the Black Lagoon’ and ‘Godzilla vs Bambi’ movie and begged me to see it. Turns out Kim is a BIG fan of the classic 3D genre.”

Dad saw my face register disbelief as I pulled the phone away from my ear. The last thing I heard was Eric’s voice. “I do not mean to cut you off, Kelly, but I gotta let the killer attack dogs outside so they can pee. Can you give me a call later next week and we can try to connect? Nice talking to Ya.”

For the second time I was starting at a “CALL ENDED” display from my conversation with Eric.

I tossed the phone on the table muttering, “Well that went well.”

If I expected sympathy from Dad, it was not to be. He let out a huge belly laugh and sat down wiping tears from his eyes.

‘I am glad you are so amused,” I spat. “The only movie that tart Kim is a fan of is the Monster Dance with no pants.”

Dad got up and kissed the top of my head. “Sorry, Honey, but I do not think I ever saw you get shot down before and looks like you are not used to it.”

“Damn straight!”

Dad moved his chair so he was sitting in front of me. “If I did not know Eric any better I would say he is getting a bit of payback.”

“What are you taking about?”

Dad sat back in his chair. “Remember when you were a senior and leading lady in the school’s production of ‘West Side Story’.”

“Yeah, so?”

“Eric was part of the stage crew and I guess he invited you to the after party.”

“He might have; I don’t remember.”

“Well he did remember back then. Poor bastard showed up at the house with a dozen roses and his Dad’s old car. He must have polished that car a hundred times, the damn reflection almost blinded me. I bet those roses cost him a week salary from his minimum wage job.”

“Ouch”

“Ouch is right. And where were you? You had left with that ass clown that was playing the lead, ah ... Tommy what’s his face.”

I grimaced at the memory. “Tommy got us that skunking beer. I was so sick.”

“Guess who disabled Tommy’s car at that party so he could not drive drunk and then drove your blotto ass home that night?”

I put my head in my hands “Please do not tell me it was Eric.”

Dad nodded his head. “Actually it was not my proudest moment, either. Your mother and I thought Eric had gotten you drunk on that beer. I reamed him a new asshole; your mother threw his roses in the trash. Eric never denied anything, just stood there taking all the abuse.”

Dad looked at the grill. “I did not find out the truth until after you both graduated. Eric never told anyone. Just a freak coincidence of events that I found out. Wow did I eat some crow apologizing to Eric back then. You know what he said when I asked him why he did not tell me what happened.”

“What?”

“Eric stood there with that smile on his face and said ‘Not a problem, to paraphrase 1870s British Prime Minister Benjamin Disraeli, ‘Real Men never complain, Real Men never blame’.”

I picked up my phone off the table. “Might as well erase Eric’s name from my contact list. If I were him I would not spit in my mouth if my tongue was on fire.”

Dad shook his head. “If it was anyone else I would agree with you, but not Eric. Think, why else would he keep helping you out all these years.”

I put my phone back in my purse. “I don’t know, but I am not taking any more chances. Eric is not gonna be prepared for what I am about to hit him with.”

Dad raised his glass to me. “Chance favors the prepared man, or women as it seems.”

It took another week until I got on Eric’s damn ‘calendar’. It was a Friday night car show, not an event I would have picked. I mean seriously, who wants to waste a summer evening wandering around a parking lot full of old junker cars?

Was I surprised when Eric showed up and walked me to his car.

“Eric, Oh My God! Is that a Lincoln?”

“Sure is,” Eric said proudly patting the gleaming fender. “Lincoln Continental Mark IV, this one was built in 1973.”

I felt myself get giddy. “My Grandfather, or ‘Seanathair’, had a car just like this!”

Eric grinned wide as he opened the passenger door. “What a coincidence, because this was your Grandfathers car.”

I was stunned. He must be playing a trick on me “NO, REALLY? Seriously, this is my Seanathair’s car!”

“Sure is.” Eric replied, holding my hand, as I got in and sunk into the plush front seat. “Kelly, your Grandfather always took immaculate care of this car. After he died, it just sat covered in a garage forever. Your Dad practically gave it to me. It took a while to replace all the dried up seals and stuff, but everything is original and works, even the AM FM radio.”

As the familiar aroma of the interior filled my nostrils, I breathed in deeply while Eric walked around to get in the driver side. I do not know if it was my imagination or what, but the bouquet of scents transported me back to the happiest days of my childhood. Just me and my Seanathair going out for ice cream, I could feel Seanathairs presence as surely as if he was sitting next to me.

Eric settled into the driver set. He had a ‘cat that ate the canary’ look on his face. Suddenly he reached across me from the driver seat and opened the cars glove box. He pointed to the inside door of the glove box.

There in the childish scrawl of my young hand was the unsteady lettering “KELLY + SEANATHAIR 4EVER,” enclosed by a big heart.

One thought leaped into my head.

Eric was the MAN that I was going to marry and have his children and then grow old together. I didn’t care if I had to personally stab to death every female who looked at him.

The Car Show was great fun. While I only recognized a few of the cars from my teenage years, it was a great atmosphere with a DJ playing old tunes, kids trying to use hula hoops and a bunch of food carts. Seanathair’s car ... I mean Eric’s car, got lots of attention. Eric was at ease talking to everyone and even the kids in their ‘rice rocket’ import cars came up ask him questions.

The end of the car show night was start of my campaign to get Eric to propose to me. It took about nine months to get him to ask for my hand in marriage. It would have been sooner, but it took over a month to chase off all the other bimbos on his damn calendar.

How did I convince Eric I was ‘the one’ for him? Easy, I showed him what great partners we would be together, our potential as parents, the shared interests we had in common, how we were true soulmates and...