Page 5 of Perfect Mess

“Seriously, Mary, I already told you. I’m never dating again. I mean it. This time for good.”

She didn’t mean it. “What about that one?” I pointed to a classmate’s surprised face on the board. Based on his “now” picture, he still had all his teeth. Mostly.

“Ned Bailey?” Ralph looked unsure.

“What’s wrong with Ned?”

“He was that kid who ran the Spirit Committee,” Ralph answered.

“So?”

“He was very … spirited.”

“I’d say Janet could use a little extra spirit right now.” The look Janet gave me confirmed it.

“I don’t think Janet wants the spirit Ned offers, or to put it another way, Janet isn’t the type of person Ned would prefer to give his spirit to.” Ralph pointed across the barn where Ned was happily sharing his “spirit” with a few of our male classmates. Only male classmates.

“Fine. What about that one?” I pointed to another set of photographs that looked like the before and after pictures used on a hair loss treatment commercial. Except in reverse.

“Harold Demings?” Once again, Ralph had a tone.

“What’s wrong with Harold Demings?”

“He was that crypto investor,” said Janet.

“Fantastic. Not only is he not too horrible looking, he’s probably rich too.”

“He scammed old ladies out of their retirement funds.” I could tell by her face it was going to be a deal breaker. I spotted Harold on the other side of the barn, ladling a fresh cup of punch. If you looked closely, you could see the tracking monitor poking out under his pant leg.

“Look,” I said. “This is our twenty-year reunion. Every guy here is staring down the barrel of forty years old.” Ralph and Janet did the math in their heads, nodding.

“At our age, any man who’s single is divorced, because he was never marriage material to begin with, or he didn’t get married because no sane woman would go anywhere near him with a twenty-foot pole.” Ralph looked offended, but I plowed onward. “We’re dealing with a low bar here. Very low. Like down here.” I bent down and made an imaginary line in the air at my ankles.

“You’re going to have to adjust your expectations.” It wasn’t the most motivating thing to say, judging by the scowl on Janet’s face, but it was the truth. I mean, that’s why I didn’t waste my time with relationships at that point. Single men my age were a lost cause.

As we made our way past the registration tables, it was clear the reunion committee went all out. A Garth Brooks cover band, Rolling Thunder, played from a portable stage. Garth’s doppelgänger was singing about Friends in Low Places, flush with whiskey and beer, where everyone was going to be okay.

“You smell that?” The scent of charred meats drifted over from the buffet tables. I heard a rumbling. It was Ralph’s stomach, or a squadron of B52’s taking off outside.

“Is that foam or drool?” I teased.

“Quite the turnout.” Janet gazed in wonder, her mood thawing.

“Probably the free beer,” I explained.

“Free beer?” Ralph’s neck moved so fast the foam hat boomeranged on his head.

* * *

We foundthe bar out back along a path of mondo grasses and flagstone. Whiskey barrels served as tables. Glowing lights swooped down from the trees.

“Wow.” Janet’s eyes sparkled with wonder. Flannel clad bartenders dispersed a steady stream of red solo cups. There were lots of smiles. Lots of laughs. The mood was good and getting better by the second.

“They even have a chocolate fountain.” Janet pointed at the dessert table, smothered with treats.

“And pony rides.” Ralph was warming up, too.

It was true. There were pony rides. With actual ponies being ridden. A weathered, leathered ranch hand helped riders climb into their saddles. It was hard to determine which group was more terrified, the humans or the ponies.

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