Trying to Get Laid...

Sometimes I wish I wasn't so nosy, but sometimes it pays off. Take yesterday. Sitting alone in a diner I frequent, putting the last minute touches on a piece of writing for a new workshop,finishing my tarragon chicken salad (yum!) I overheard one of the girls behind the counter wishing a departing co-worker good luck. He was a young, sweet guy who often remembered my finicky veggie sausage and egg sandwich order correctly before I even had to ask, who chatted with me amiably as I waited for it.

He waved her off somewhat sheepishly. "Aw, thanks," he said, "I'm hopin'..."

I couldn't not ask. "What's up?" I said, "What do you need luck in?" I thought maybe I could offer my own well wishes.

He looked at me in a bit of a panic and then back at his co-worker. "Thanks," he said to her, joking, "why don't you just tell everybody?" But he didn't seem to mind sharing as he turned quickly back to me and spilled it:

"I've got this lady friend, see, and I'm hoping she'll sleep with me tonight," he said enthusiastically, no longer even sheepish just straight-up desperate. "Really," he said, eyes wide, leaning in toward me "and if not, if you know anyone who'd be interested..."

I threw back my head against the booth, dying of laughter. "Nice, very nice. Well, by all means, I wish you luck...hey, you deserve it!"

It seemed to me he should have no problem, but it has been a while since I've been single. As I thought about it, put myself back in that place in my head, I recalled that it wasn't always easy to find a bedfellow despite the knowledge that all single people seemed to be in search of one much of the time, in search of the same thing, maybe just not with each other. Things often seem like they should be simpler than they are.

"Where are you taking her?" I asked.

"My house," he said, pursing his lips in cock-sure fashion. "I'm making her dinner..."

I laughed. "Aaah, well," I said, "then it seems it will be yours to lose. You'll be mere steps from the bedroom, no problem."

He smiled, crossed his fingers. As to not leave it wholly to luck, however, he said he was making filet mignon, "pulling out all the stops...only the best!"

"I'm sure she'll love it...good luck!" I said, again for good measure.

He waved and walked out. Smiling, I paid my check and walked out myself. No sooner did I see my sex-starved friend up ahead than I slapped my forehead. Stupid. If ever there was a gold star moment, it had been this one. I picked up the pace and finally cornered him a ways up the street.

"I forgot to give you this," I said as I pulled out the biggest gold star in the pack and slapped it right on his chest. "Tell her a stranger gave it to you, just for being such a good guy..."

He patted his star happily. "Ooh, that'll work, that'll definitely work! Thanks!"

I can only hope it did, that his efforts on his lady friend's behalf, for his own best interest, paid off. I'm not sure, though, that I'll ask when next I see him. Sometimes you have to know when not to ask the question. I'm bad at that. What would I say if the answer was no, that his efforts didn't pay off? That he was left hanging? What would I say if it was yes? Either way, it's none of my business. But, who am I kidding? I'll have to ask.