Free Waiting to Exhale by Terry McMillan

been seeing someone on a regular basis, if that's what you mean, but how serious it is, I'm not sure yet. Why?"
    "I just wanted to know if I was walking in on something."
    Had I opened a door and said, "Michael, come on in," without knowing it, or was I projecting that hungry look? He looked me dead in the eye, and I noticed that they were a soft brown, the whites were milky white, and they were kind of dreamy. Maybe he had some other redeeming qualities that weren't so visible to the naked eye. But enough already, Robin. The last thing you need is to get yourself all tangled up with a chubby little dweeb from the office. However, since he'd started this conversation on hobbies and what have you, I felt obligated to ask him. "So, Michael. Do you have any hobbies?"
    " As a matter of fact, I do. Drag racing, for one."
    I almost choked on my diet Pepsi. Michael a drag racer?
    "And deep-sea fishing and scuba diving."
    "Where do you do all of these things?"
    "Mexico. I also have a boat that I like to cruise around in when I can."
    I swallowed hard. This was unreal. "Here in Phoenix?"
    "No; I keep it up in the White Mountains."
    "You're not making this up, are you, to impress me?"
    "There's a whole lot of other things I'd be more inclined to lie about if I was just trying to impress you, Robin."
    Then he started talking about the insurance business. He wanted to know how long I'd been in underwriting, but I didn't want to talk about insurance, so finally I just interrupted him and came right on out and asked him. "When's your birthday?"
    "June second," he said, and sprinkled some salt on his french fries. "Why?"
    "I was just curious." I found a slice of avocado in my salad, pierced my fork into it, and sighed. Another Gemini. By anybody else's standards, Michael would be considered a good catch-as catches go. He appears to be intelligent, tries hard to be witty, has a good job, and hell, he's available. So far he has been kind of charming and somewhat interesting and definitely a gentleman, which was a nice change of pace. I looked at him a few more minutes and didn't feel any disgust whatsoever. If I'm lucky, maybe his rising and moon signs are in Scorpio or Aquarius. Should I go ahead and give Michael a chance? I asked myself. Should I just forget all about astrology and try not to judge the man before I get to know him?
    My questions were answered when I got to work the following morning and found a big bouquet of spring flowers on my desk. I hadn't decided if I actually liked Michael or not, and when I decided that I did like him a little bit I couldn't put my finger on why. I knew I wasn't attracted to him physically, but maybe that's what I needed: the kind of man every woman wouldn't be drooling over. Somebody decent and ordinary. But shoot, he could still turn out to be another Pretender. However. There was one way to find out.
    So here I am, waiting.
    I'm wearing bright orange tonight because I had my color chart done and Sunanda told me to wear warm colors if I want to emit warmth. I do. I definitely do. But maybe this color is too strong for Michael. Maybe he'll think I'm a hot number right off the bat and read me the wrong way. I ran into the bedroom and changed into a soft yellow sweater, then slipped a lace handkerchief into my skirt pocket. I was staring at myself in the mirror, trying to give myself approval, when Gloria and Bernadine popped into my mind. While I fastened all but the top three pearl buttons, I heard them cackling. They think I have poor taste in men (they despised Russell), and they also think I'm a nymphomaniac, which is why they jokingly refer to me as "the whore." But they're just envious. Bernadine has a husband she doesn't want to fuck, and Gloria doesn't know anybody who wants to fuck her. We fight like sisters, but I don't know what I'd do without them. When my mother was in the hospital, Bernadine and Gloria were right there. And when we found out that Daddy had Alzheimer's, my mother asked