Free LoveLines by S. Walden

the one who wanted you to tie her up and beat the shit out of her every night.”
    “All right already!” Reece snapped. “I get it. I haven’t had the best of luck with normal women.”
    “Well, ‘normal’ is relative. I mean, none of us are ‘normal,’” Camden said. “Oh, shut up shut up. Round 4 is starting.”
    The men suspended their conversation for the eight minutes it took to answer all the questions for Round 4. Camden turned in their answer sheet while Reece pigged out on the plate of cheese fries the waitress recently delivered. He didn’t mean to. It’s just that the more he thought about his past relationships, the more nervous he became at the prospect of spending the rest of his life alone because he didn’t know how to pick them. He shoved a cheese fry in his mouth. Perhaps Camden was right: he went after fixer-up women. (Gulp of beer.) Why? Why did he go after the ones with great big issues? (A clump of cheese fries stuck together by a mass of coagulated cheddar. He opened wide.) God. What the fuck is wrong with me? he thought. (Another long swig of beer. Two more cheese fries.) Can men get cellulite? he wondered as he licked his finger and dabbed it all around the plate, picking up stray bacon bits. Oh, Jesus, I’m gonna get cellulite, he thought, sucking the bacon from his forefinger.
    “Dude,” Camden said. “You’re, like, desperate eating over here. That’s what chicks do.”
    “This is my dinner!” Reece barked. “Leave me alone!”
    Camden’s eyes went wide. He sank into his chair slowly. “Okay, man. It’s cool. You can eat as fast as you want.”
    Reece buried his face in his hands.
    “Aren’t your fingers greasy?” Camden noted.
    Reece snapped his head up. “Oh, shit. Oh, that’s gross.” He picked up his napkin.
    “Don’t do that,” Camden chuckled.
    Reece held up the napkin , grease-stained circles dotting the paper square. He looked at his friend.
    “I was about to wipe my face with this,” he said quietly.
    “I know.”
    “I was about t o put this shit on my face.”
    Camden bit his lip to suppress the grin. “You’re tired, Reece. You think we oughta call it a night?”
    “There’s something wrong with me ,” Reece went on. “You’re right. I go after freaks. What am I thinking entertaining the idea of pursuing this girl? I know she’s OCD. No one looks that put together all the time. No one’s desk at work stays in a state of orderliness. All. Day. Long. You hear what I’m sayin’ to you? I’m talking all day. It’s not right. It’s not human. There’s something wrong with her.”
    Camden nodded. It was a sympathetic nod mixed with “I told you so.”
    Reece threw up his hands. “I’m done! Interest? Killed. Obsession? Over.”
    “What about this game?” Camden asked.
    “Not over,” Reece replied, and he tried his hardest to concentrate on the remaining rounds. The problem was that he saw a swinging ponytail in the distance and was distracted all over again.
    ***
    “Did you see it?!” Christopher cried.
    Reece grinned. “Yeah . I saw it.”
    “What do you think about the final product?”
    “I thought it couldn’t have been better. I think the commercial is awesome.”
    “What did you think about how the y dressed the mom model?” Christopher asked.
    Reece chuckled. It wasn’t exactly his vision, but it worked. She was still in the business suit he wanted, but Haute Digital thought a high -fashion business suit would translate better—sharp angles and ruffles in weird places. Not your average everyday woman’s suit.
    “Dude! Check this out.” Christopher slid Technology Now , the most popular tech magazine, across the table. “Read that.”
    Reece held up the magazine and cleared his throat. “ ‘Haute Digital—a leading innovator in the phone/computer hybrid—tried a “fashionable” approach to marketing its newest phablet. Merging runway, couture, supermom, and a clever tagline (it’s “phablous,” people),