The BACHELORETTE Project (The Project: LESLEE Series) (29 page)

Due to lack of Saturday night plans, I called upon the frat boy
(also known as Eric)
for male gender advice and a little bit of that exciting frat boy fun (well, at least the drinking portion of
it). He had a hot date planned:
a fiery redhead who owns a pet store (sounds so interesting…yawn). Since they planned an early date, I’d be able to see him later on in the night, so we arranged for an 11:30 get together at his house, then from there, who knows. I won't be truly happy until I get at least three strawberry martinis in my system
and
a couple Smirnoffs.

At 11:15, I arrive at the Palace a la Eric, which truly is a palace. Eric and his brother live in this gorgeous house right outside of Philadel
phia near Villanova University.
Five bedrooms, three bathrooms, a ridiculously huge kitchen and living room, and of course this great big Jacuzzi. What bachelor pad would be complete without a big Jacuzzi? I doubt it's even used though. The thought of either one of them cleaning it is almost laughable, then again it is a possibility that they could use it without it being clean
ed
which is gross beyond belief.

As I walk toward the front door of Eric's house, I just have to turn around and look at my car, and it's so obvious that my car does not belong
in this type of neighborhood.
The smoke is still emitting from the hood, the whole body of the car still seems to be shaking as if the engine is still on, and I honestly think that my car is browner than it is orange from the paint peeling off
,
and the rust showing more and more each day. Can we say
piece of shit car
?

I ring the doorbell and it sounds like one of those loud church cathedral bells. I know Eric's
not home yet because his car i
s not in the driveway, but Jeremy's is. He has a new S-Class Mercedes-Benz; black with a moonroof and shiny wheels, so new that it looks like he drove it off the lot today. Lucky bastard. And I really have no idea what he does for work either. I think he's just a professional prick, but I'm not sure. I'll have to ask Eric that one.

I ring the doorbell again because lazy ass Jeremy doesn't want to answer the door. I then hear what sounds like heavy footsteps
walking towards the front door sounding
like elephants walking toward a buffet.  The door flings open. "Jerkoff!" I say happily. "How wonderful it is to see you!" You have to understand that Jeremy and I have somewhat of a hate-hate relationship. The first time that he ever visited Eric in college was the first time that I had gotten completely wasted off my ass. Eric and I were 18, barely freshmen at Temple, and Jeremy, who was 21 at the time, a senior at West Chester University, decided that it was time to show us a few college tricks. A few college tricks meaning a fully informational tutorial on the game of beer pong, and also what bad things can happen after four shots of Everclear. Needless to say, I woke up in a pool of my own vomit the next day. I’m not saying that I never got drunk after that (which would be a complete lie because I definitely lived my college life to the fullest), but I definitely steered clear of Everclear and harsh vodka. Jeremy is my worst memory of college.

"Lesbo!" Jeremy says in my same tone of voice.  "Why don't you come on in? I have
Everclear
. I know it’s your favorite." He smiles as I push him out of the way and walk into the house.

"Jeremy," I start, "you're so irritating.  Everything out of your mouth makes me want to punch you."

Jeremy looks outside and catches a peek of my absolutely horrible means of transportation. "Hey, lesbo, is that a new ride you got there?" Jeremy asks and smiles. I feel like cringing because do you know who Jeremy reminds me of? Stifler, you know, the kid from
American Pie
. The kid that got on everyone's nerves and just said the most random shit to just piss you off. Yeah, that's Jeremy: a Stifler. Granted, Eric is a jerk, too, but Eric is the type of jerk that you can tolerate. Jeremy is the type of jerk that you feel like choking then hiding his body in the trunk of someone else’s car.

Swallowing my pride and the curses that are
lingering
at the end of my tongue, I ignore Jeremy's comments, walk into the kitchen, and sit down at the table. "Where's your brother?" I ask.

"He's on a date which raises the question: why are you here
?" Such the sarcastic smartass.
Jeremy sucks as a person. Completely. Utterly. Sucks.

"I know he's on a date, but he should've been done with that by now," I reply.

"Maybe he's getting laid."

I laugh. "I don't think so. It's been so long that your brother doesn't even remember what getting laid feels like."

"And how would you know that?"

"Hmm, because he told me." Maybe that was too much information for Eric to tell me, but we are friends. We can talk about these things. And besides, we’re practically in the same involuntary celibate boat.

"And do you remember what it feels like?" Jeremy asks as runs his index finger from my lips to the top of my chest. "You've been a lesbo so long, Leslee. Let me straighten you out again." I hate him. I really, really do.

I grab a hold of Jeremy’s finger and begin to bend it back until he shrieks. “Stop calling me lesbo and say SORRY!” I demand while still holding his finger.
“I will break you
.”

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” he screams in a girly high pitched voice. I release his finger. “Ow!” I begin to laugh.
That’s what he gets for messing with me.

I hear the front door open and the footsteps of som
eone walking towards us
. "Hello?" Eric calls out. He walks into the kitchen and my jaw just drops. Eric looks …
HAWT
! I mean he looks completely stunning wearing grey dress pants and a matching blazer, a white dress shirt underneath, and a black silk tie. He looks classy, sophisticated, and really,
really
sexy. I’m salivating right now.

"Hi, Eric," I am a
ble to putter out of my mouth. I’m s
peechless that he looks so h
ot, and
breathless because I'm actually attracted to him. But I am a lady so I’m able to keep my composure and snap out of it. Eric is my friend and always will be my friend and
NOTHING MORE
.
Stop staring down at his crotch, Leslee!
"How was your date?"

"Eh, it was OK," he replies which in his little language means
I probably won't see her again
.

"That bad, bro?" Jeremy asks.
Yes, Jeremy.
I think to myself.
Please get the juicy dirt out of him
.
I know you're good for SOMETHING.

"No, it wasn't bad,” Eric tells him. “It's just that there wasn't much conversation. All in all, she was a nice woman." Eric smiles and looks at me. "You ready to go?"

"Uh huh," I say and I get up and walk towards the front door, Eric following me.

"You look nice," he says to me. "It's definitely better than the sweatpants and wifebeaters I catch you wearing all the time."

"Thanks, Eric," I reply sarcastically. "You really know how to screw up a compliment," and a well-deserved compliment at that. Here I am wearing tight, low cut jeans, a sleeveless brown lace shirt, gold Steve Madden heels with jewels on them, and my hair out in curls. I’m pretty damn hot if I do say so myself. "So, whose car are we taking?" I ask.

Eric looks at me as if I am crazy. "Do we
really
need to ask that?" he says, laughing. “Anyway, where are we going?” he asks as we walk out the front door. I think to myself for second.

“I know where,” I reply smiling. “I have the perfect place in mind.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It is known that whether you’re a tourist or a resident of Philadelphia, you haven’t truly experienced Philly until you’ve experienced the cuisine. Well, one cuisine in particular.

“Philly cheesesteak! Where have you been for all these years?” I moan as I bite into the juiciest, yummiest, probably most fattening cheesesteak of all time. Believe me when I say that it’s worth the extra calories and then some. “God, how I’ve missed Philly! How come they don’t have Geno’s Steaks in New York?”

“If Geno’s Steaks was in New York, then Philly wouldn’t be as popular as it is now,” Eric answers then takes a bite of his steak, cheese oozing at the top. “I can’t believe you’ve been back for five months and haven’t had a cheesesteak up until now.”

“It was definitely worth waiting for,” I say through a mouthful of food. “Mmmm, it’s good. Almost orgasmic. You know what, Eric?”

“What?”

“I’ve decided to have a love affair with food,” I say. “Forget men. They’re too difficult to deal with.”

“Men aren’t perfect,” Eric says. He’s only stating the obvious; then again, no human is perfect. “We always want something more. We could have Halle Berry knocking at our door wanting to marry us, and somehow we will find a way to fuck it up. We’re a complicated creature, us men.”

“So, what is wrong with me then?” I ask. “How come it’s so difficult for me to find a boyfriend that is normal?”

“Because you look desperate,” he tells me and I pout. Me? Desperate? I know myself. I know what I want in life … right? “We’ve been friends for years so I can tell you this without you going all psycho on me. Men don’t like desperate women. You gotta give us a reason to want to go after you, and you to not go after us.”

“I don’t feel like I do that,” I defend. “It’s normal to date different guys in different ways, isn’t it?”

“Has it worked for you?”

“No, but it may very soon,” I answer then take a sip of my soda. “Fine, it’s not working,” I admit. “What is it then? What do men want?”

“That’s easy,” he says. “There are only four things that men really want in the world and that’s sex, food, video games, and sports.”

“That’s the exact same thing that Karen said and I refuse to believe it’s that simple.”

“And beer,” Eric says. “But we can put that in the food category.”

“Naturally.”

“If I had a woman who can cook me a nice, warm, edible meal, play Madden with me on the Xbox, watch the Eagles game on Sunday afternoon, and give me a blowjob afterward without any complaining or drama, then it would be safe to say that I’ve officially found the one.”

“
Spoken like a true gentleman,” I respond sarcastically. “So, it’s really t
hat simple, huh?”

“Yup,” he says then takes another bite of his steak. “And if we’re on the subject of you, I think that any guy that’s not like the guys you dated in college is acceptable.”

“Wait a second. I dated some nice guys in college.”

“Douchebags, Leslee. They were douchebags.”

“I can’t be
lieve what I’m hearing right now
,” I say, laughing. “Name an example.”

“That one guy Jeff was a douchebag. And he treated you like shit.”

“That’s not true. He was a nice guy.”

“He was a nice guy to
other
girls,” he says. “That kid got more ass than a toilet seat when he was with you.” OK. So, he cheated on me. Yes, I was young and stupid, but I’m older now … and probably still stupid. Eric is right and I hate myself for it. How can he just bring up my past mistakes like this?

“Then there was that kid with the big ears,” Eric says as he sits and thinks for a second. “What was his name?” he asks and I know exactly who he’s referring to.

“Jordon,” I answer sullenly.

“Jordon! That’s it!” Eric says, laughing. “He was such a tool! And then there was another one—”

“OK, I get your point,” I snap. “I get it. I dated douchebags, but it’s not like you were any better than I was when it came to dating in college.”

“I didn’t date anyone.”

“Oh, that’s right. You just slept with poor innocent college girls and kept it moving,” I say, smiling. “You were the campus womanizer.”

“Leslee, it was college. Sex was the norm, and if you weren’t having sex, you were drinking.”

“And if you weren’t doing either?”

“Then you were Karen and Russ,” he answers. Yeah, they were kind of boring in college, well junior and senior year anyway. They were always studying, doing fundraiser work, and working internships to put on their resumes. It’s like they forgot what having an irresponsible college life was all about (irresponsible meaning fun … most of the time).

“I guess I’d rather be a Karen or a Russ than to sleep with every easy girl on campus,” I respond.

“If they were willing, then I was the man to deliver the goods.”

“Yeah, right,” I say sarcastically. “That was
a very nice trait that you had:
sleeping with women then ignoring them for the rest of the semester
like you were doing them some sort of godly favor
.”

“Hey, if I’d have found the right girl to settle down with, then I would have,” he tells me. “But the only girl I encountered in college that was worth
dating was you … and you shot
me down.”