Read Bottom Up (5 page)

—MW

 

Subject: Re: Peep This!

From: Elliot Rowe

Date: Mon, Mar 17 at 4:23 PM

To: Madeline Whittaker

Wellll . . . sometime after whiskey #3 (that, incidentally, is a lyric in every country song ever), you did accidentally fling the contents of your glass at the unsuspecting Asian couple the table over from us.

And then you later admitted that you hadn't had sex since you and your banker boyfriend broke up in January. But those things were more “cute” than you making an ass of yourself. (Also, I'm totally on the hunt for a rebound for you.)

Don't spend too much time on the riddle of the Tall Model. I already made that mistake.

How about dinner? 7ish?

 

Subject: Re: Peep This!

From: Madeline Whittaker

Date: Mon, Mar 17 at 4:57 PM

To: Elliot Rowe

Oh my god. I forgot about the Asian couple. But since I have never blacked out in my life (really! it's a gift . . . and a curse), I will say that I didn't fling it “at” them—I was reaching out to touch your face and it accidentally slipped from my hand. Apparently whiskey fucks with my depth perception?

Did one of us offer to pay for that lady's dry cleaning? I feel like not and I feel like that's something my mom would want me to do.

Oh, and let's make a deal: I won't bring up the Tall Model and I'm hoping you can let the no-sex-in-months comment slide.

Pun intended.

I look forward to enacting said deal on Thursday at 7. Do you already have somewhere in mind? I can pick.

 

Subject: Re: Peep This!

From: Elliot Rowe

Date: Mon, Mar 17 at 6:06 PM

To: Madeline Whittaker

Totally forgot to offer to pay. We did, however, make some jokes about how they probably own a laundromat, because we are terrible people.

I hereby agree to the terms of your deal. How about Lupa? You can pick the spot after where we hurl shot glasses of tequila at unassuming Mexican couples. You know, switch things up a bit.

Till soon,

Elliot

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Subject: Stop calling my phone

From: Elliot Rowe

Date: Fri, Mar 21 at 11:14 AM

To: David Meyer

I don't check my voicemails because I am a human in the 21st century.

Anyway, assume you were calling about Madeline. Had a good time. It was a little weird because we were meeting at Lupa but when I got there, Andy, Will, and Jess and a bunch of people were randomly there, so I sat with them for a drink. And then Madeline showed up and sat with us, and we never actually got our own table? But it was fun. (Jess liked her a lot, and she basically hates every girl I ever date, so that's something.)

Went to some show after, but she dipped out early because she has a normal-person job.

Texted a little with that girl from Tinder after the show, but ended up calling it.

 

Subject: Re: Stop calling my phone

From: David Meyer

Date: Fri, Mar 21 at 12:06 PM

To: Elliot Rowe

I appreciate the detailed play-by-play, but did you and Madeline make out? That's really the only thing I ever want to know.

 

Subject: Re: Stop calling my phone

From: Elliot Rowe

Date: Fri, Mar 21 at 2:04 PM

To: David Meyer

There was a brief kiss goodbye, but I think the briefness was only b/c there were a lot of other people around and she doesn't really strike me as the full-on public make-out type.

She's a real lady. I could use a lady.

 

Subject: Re: Stop calling my phone

From: David Meyer

Date: Fri, Mar 21 at 2:05 PM

To: Elliot Rowe

Sounds like The One.

 

Subject: Re: Stop calling my phone

From: Elliot Rowe

Date: Fri, Mar 21 at 2:08 PM

To: David Meyer

They're always The One this early. But I do like her. Might even get crazy, call her on the phone this week.

 

Subject: Re: Stop calling my phone

From: David Meyer

Date: Fri, Mar 21 at 3:01 PM

To: Elliot Rowe

Wow. Really going out on a limb.

Hey, in your professional culinary opinion, what's better: PinkBerry or Yogurtland?

 

Subject: Re: Stop calling my phone

From: Elliot Rowe

Date: Fri, Mar 21 at 3:06 PM

To: David Meyer

PinkBerry all day err day. I don't fuck with that off-brand shit.

 

 

 

Subject: polygamy hits the Northeast

From: Madeline Whittaker

Date: Fri, Mar 21 at 9:45 AM

To: Emily Roberts

Heya:

Got your text. Sorry, I just shut my phone off and collapsed into bed. No, my exhaustion did not originate with me breaking my dry spell by having sex with Elliot in a coat closet . . . which is kind of impossible these days, actually. Unless you want to have sex in front of the coat check girl or with the coat check girl. Anyway: none was had.

I show up at dinner (i may or may not have gotten a blow-out for this occasion.) Also wore the infamous date shirt that I wore with Rob. Maybe this is a dumb move but I choose not to think of it as “the shirt that started the relationship that nearly killed me” and more as “the shirt that started the relationship . . . ANY relationship.”

So I walk into the restaurant and I'm wandering around like a total chump with a cafeteria tray because I can't find Elliot ANYWHERE. So I ask the hostess if a guy came in and she shakes her head. I kind of assume I got the time or the place wrong, which is obviously unlike me, but then, from the end of this big long table, I hear my name.

He was there with a group of about six guys and gals from his restaurant. Or other restaurants. I don't know. All I know is I smiled and sat there and nodded while they all blathered on about how overrated David Chang is for 40 minutes and ooohh whoops, sorry, they had ALREADY ORDERED when I got there. I had to beg a side of fries and drinks off the waiter who had closed out the tab and clearly thought
I
was the a-hole. Elliot was at the opposite end of the table and I barely spoke to him.

His friends were nice and I talked to some guy about what kinds of
pans I should get for my apartment. I had to make instant friends with some chick because i was beyond starving and i thought, well: “We're gonna get real close real fast, lady, because now I have to eat off your plate.”