Page 44 of Falling in Love with Two

She goes on so that I don’t have to. “Yeah, they seem all interested until they hear that I’m saving myself until marriage.”

I don’t care what a woman decides to do with her body. If she wants to wait, more power to her.

Some guys may like the virginal women. Once again, more power to them. Virgins just have never been my thing. I like my women to have more experience.

Hell, even the woman who took my V-card was much more seasoned than I was.

Stacy speaks again. “It’s just nice meeting a man who doesn’t care about all that kind of stuff.”

I’m not sure what kind of energy I’m putting out here, but I think Stacy is getting the wrong idea.

Do I consider myself a nice guy?

Yes.

But I’m no virgin.

Not even close.

I may treat any woman of mine like gold, but I’ve also done horribly filthy things to women. I’ve fucked them every way imaginable, and I’ve loved every second of it.

In the future, I don’t plan on giving up the sex aspect of my life.

Yeah, I don’t think Stacy and I are going to work out.

An hour later, I’m on my couch with a beer in had and Stand by Me playing on the TV. Nothing beats a classic when you’ve had a rough evening.

When Stacy and I parted ways, she suggested a second date, but I knew that it wasn’t a good idea.

I told her, “I hope you find what you’re looking for, but I don’t think I’m it. We want different things, but I hope you meet the one sooner rather than later.”

I was honest, and she seemed to take it well.

As nice as she was, I couldn’t be the perfect caricature of the man she illustrated in her head.

So, for now, I’ll just sit on my couch and drink my beer.

Alone.

My phone vibrates in my pocket, and I lift my ass just enough to pull it out.

Looking at the caller ID, I answer, “Hey, Jack. What’s up?”

“Hey, Dylan. I need a favor.”

“Alright, what is it?”

I hear my sister, Liz, in the background. “Jack, did you call my brother?”

Jack says, “Yes, but—”

She cuts him off. “Dylan, forget that Jack called you. He’s being incredibly overprotective.”

“You’re carrying my child. Of course, I’m overprotective.”

“Your child?” She cries. “Do you want to have the hemorrhoids and extra pounds?”

“I’m sorry!” He backpedals. “It’s our child.”

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