Page 21 of Dear Mr. Brody

@TheL0stB0y: Does anyone ever ask for one?

@MeAndMyShadow33:Good point. Maybe some guys? But I’m not that kind of guy.

@TheL0stB0y: No? What kind of guy are you?

Waiting for his answer, I pressed my lips together, my pulse thrumming a beat or two faster than normal. I didn’t usually get excited about chatting with guys on here. It was too impersonal. But this guy, he’d made me want to dig deeper.

@MeAndMyShadow33:The truth is, I have no idea. I’ve never done this before.

@TheL0stB0y: You’ll have to be more specific. Define “this.”

@MeAndMyShadow33:I’ve never used a dating app.

That was vague.

@TheL0stB0y: You’d rather meet guys at a bar or something?

@MeAndMyShadow33:I’ve never been with a guy before.

@TheL0stB0y: Ever?

@MeAndMyShadow33:Never.

Well, fuck. As curious as I was about this guy, I wasn’t down with being an experiment. He was probably married looking to satisfy some unfulfilled need he’d had his whole life but never wanted to admit. Textbook closet case. No, thanks.

@TheL0stB0y: Bummer. I’m not into closeted guys though.

@MeAndMyShadow33:Who said I was closeted?

@TheL0stB0y: You’ve never been with a guy and you’re thirty-three. What’s stopped you, then?

It was probably rude as fuck of me to ask. But I had no desire to pursue something with no ending in sight. I wasn’t trying to get married or anything, but I’d like an actual relationship. A person I could trust and be with without all the games and noise.

@MeAndMyShadow33:I’ve never had the chance. Got married to my high school girlfriend.

@TheL0stB0y: Ahh. You’re married. I figured. Not interested in being anyone’s dirty secret. Thanks for the chat, though.

I was pissed at myself for falling for the bullshit. Instead of wasting my time, I should’ve been on the phone with my sister getting help with this stats nightmare. I closed out of the app and called her. She answered after two rings, her voice scratchy with sleep.

“Oh man, did I wake you up?”

“It’s okay… Jones was a terror today. I fell asleep on the couch. I swear, I love my kid, but he runs me ragged.”

“Aren’t two-year-old’s known for being terrible?” I asked and laughed when she groaned.

“If I had only known….”

“You love that kid.”

“I do…” she said. “But what’s going on with you? Everything okay?”

She yawned again and I regretted calling. My sister worked her ass off, and basically raised her son by herself, with her husband Brett always away on business. I’d never liked the guy. He had never said it outright, his homophobia was more passive aggressive. He’d referred to my sexuality as a lifestyle choice and would say shit about nature versus nurture. Basically, implying that because my dad had died, and I’d been raised by my mom and my older sister, I was somehow less masculine than him. Never mind the fact that I served my goddamn country for four years while he played golf with his country club dudebros. Of course, he’d never said any of it in front of Mandi. But, unfortunately, because of him, my sister and I had become more distant over the years. She thought the guy shit stars out of his ass. I couldn’t be the one to ruin her happily ever after. She’d done too much for me. I missed my sister, but it was probably a good thing she lived in another state.

“Ordinal and nominal… qualitative and quantitative… I’m lost. This stats class sucks.”

Her giggle made me smile, making me miss her even more. “I got you, little brother.”

Mandi saved my ass yet again. After only twenty minutes, I already had a better grasp on the concepts, and was able to work through two of the problems with her. I almost asked her to help me with the last two, but it was late for her, and I didn’t want to be the reason she was tired in the morning.

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