Short: Cooler Than This
“And then she said ‘I thought you were cooler than this.’ “ whimpered Paul through his hands while he held his face.
I shot a glance over at Dave who looked like a confused dog, his head tilted toward his left shoulder, his forehead furrowed in the middle.
“What does that mean? Cooler than what?” he asked.
“I don’t know. I guess she thinks I’m boring.” offered Paul.
My spine lengthened as I sat back in my chair, righteous indignation rising in my thoughts and four letter words on my tongue.
“What are you gonna do?” Dave continued.
“We agreed to have coffee on Thursday at The Roastery.”
Confused, I demanded to know why? Why would he see her again after all she’s put him through since December?
“Bobby told me to fight for her. So that’s what I’m gonna do,” answered Paul.
Hannah and Paul officially met at an ugly sweater Christmas party three months prior. She was petite, with curly shoulder length hair and a button nose though her small stature belied a deep voice and sarcastic tone. They were an odd couple from the start but Paul was desperate for a date. He’d surprised himself by asking her out only moments after meeting her. He preferred to wait until solidly in the friend zone, when defeat was certain, to ask a woman on a date. But he hit it off with Hannah and Bobby was there to encourage the invitation. That night, Paul buzzed into our shared double wide and regaled Dave and me with the good news. We celebrated his victory with beers and pelvic thrusts.
Within weeks of their first date, Paul got a new haircut that he styled just so. And a month later, he brought home shopping bags stuffed with new jeans, a black leather belt, snazzy wool sweaters, and a pair of Chuck Taylors. The makeover was complete. And I admit, he looked handsome in his new clothes and spiffy hair. Still, he didn’t seem to enjoy spending time with Hannah. And when she was invited to dinner at our place, she often made snide comments regarding our board games and stacks of books.
Then, just after Valentine’s Day, and just after Paul made a beautiful risotto with roast duck for the occasion, he came home from a date in tears. Hannah had berated his choice of restaurant. Apparently, cheap tacos and a beer is not a date she told him. In an effort to console Paul, Dave tried to remain diplomatic. I kept quiet. I knew, if I let my anger spill into my words and he ended up marrying this she-beast, I’d never live it down.
Damn it Bobby, I thought as Paul sobbed into his hands. That sonofabitch is never around to see the result. But, I knew. Now was not the time to blame Bobby for what Hannah said to Paul. She was the one who built up my friend in her mind then tore him down, tried to mold him in her own image.
Thankfully, Dave said what needed to be said- which allowed me to keep my peace.
“Ok. You do what you think you need to do. But, I just want to say, that’s not how she should talk to you. Right? You know that?” Dave spoke as lightly as he could, his right hand on Paul’s shoulder, his eyes level with Paul’s tearful eyes. Then Paul sat back in his seat and hung his head, his chin resting on his chest. Dave and I remained still and attentive, waiting for a response. We needed to know. We needed to see or hear Paul acknowledge he deserved more from a partner. And after a silent pause, Paul looked at us, his eyes shifting from my face then to Dave’s. Then he curled his upper lip inside the lower and slowly began to nod his head up and down, almost like a bobber in the water.
