Guys versus Girlfriends

In between my dates with The Hungarian, I spent time lunching with Schmoozer which turned into a happy hour invite.

I sent Katie a text message: Hope you look cute today because Schmoozer will be joining us at happy hour!

She sent back: Hope you look cute! It's your invitation he accepted.

We're just friends.

I've been careful around Katie, because I know she abides by strict girl code. She won't date anybody her friends like and she won't date anybody her friends have dated. And just in case Schmoozer does have feelings for her, I don't want to be the cock block. I date. I get around; Katie does not. If I've learned anything from eHarmony, it's that next week will bring another guy for me to get excited about. I don't need them all.

At lunch on Friday, I told Schmoozer that I felt bad for this one mysterious guy who showed up on our team, acted all weird, and disappeared. Joining a league is an avenue for meeting new people, regardless of the motivation, and I felt bad for this guy who got nothing out of the league. I said I wished I tried harder to connect with him.

"Don't feel bad for him," Schmoozer told me. "People make their own experiences."

And I think that encapsulates why Schmoozer and I get along so well. I always write how easy it is to talk to him and I think it's because we are both extroverts. Maybe his attention isn't an overture towards me. Maybe it's just we're both people who venture out of our comfort zones. That's how we found each other.

Happy hour was the first time Schmoozer really sat down and got to know my group of friends. And he made the most of his experience. The table took turns sharing our adventures with him, each story providing insight to each of our personalities. He drank up the stories as quickly as we drank our beers.

Happy hour lasted seven hours. Everyone got drunk. Harvey, Katie and me did the obligatory go into the bathroom to pee and stay there 45 minutes sharing secrets. Harvey again iterated that she's having a baby within the year and we need to get on it. I told Harvey about my week spent trying to be like her.

"Bullshit. I wouldn't have called Christopher," she said. "Turn around and look in the mirror." I did as much. "Now tell me what you like about yourself."

"I... I... I like my bangs," I said.

"Good! I love your bangs!"

"I like that I make new friends easily. Did you know I was invited to our opposing kickball team's Facebook group?"

"You were the only one to branch out!"

Katie leaves the stall and sits on the bathroom counter. And then she admitted some secrets that aren't mine to disclose. Suffice it to say that all those times I've felt like an outsider in the group, she's felt that way too, just for the exact opposite reasons. All those times I talked about dating and sex and feeling like something was wrong with me for wanting those things when no one else talked about them, she felt like an outsider because she doesn't have any stories about dating or sex... and she wants those stories.

"It used to be that I was heavy and that's what I blamed for not dating. Now that I lost the weight, I have no one to blame but myself."

There was more discussion that led to holding hands and hugging and declaring that the three of us were each others best friends. Nothing out of the ordinary for an alcohol-fueled night. Meanwhile, Schmoozer sent me a very eloquent text message from outside the ladies' room: Shit or get off the pot.

We rejoined the group. Schmoozer put his arm around my waist. "What were you doing in there? The waitress said you were probably declaring each other best friends."

"We were! We were!"

We ordered another pitcher of beer, but somehow our glasses were cleared away during our epic bathroom trip. Katie picked up the pitcher and began drinking from that. Schmoozer noticed and sat beside her. It was the first time they have ever spoken to each other.

Harvey nudged me. "You know, I don't think Schmoozer knows what he wants. I think he wants both of you."

The rest of the night continued the same. Schmoozer would sit beside one of us and then trade every 10 or so minutes. Until Katie disappeared. And then a few minutes after that Harvey disappeared.

I walk into the bathroom. Harvey was sitting outside a stall with her back against a wall and her legs spread out in front of her. In her hand was her iPhone and she was casually scrolling through Facebook like this was the most natural thing to do on the floor of a bar bathroom at midnight on a Friday night. She raised an eyebrow at me. I waved and headed in another stall.

I sat down. On the ground in the stall next to me was a Katie-shaped body slumped against a toilet.

"Hey! It's Katie!" I cooed as I reached my hand under the wall and tickled her thigh. She didn't move. Apparently Katie drank so much that she had been sick and was passed out. Katie drinks more frequently and in higher volumes than I do, and Katie was the only one of us that ate dinner at the bar. I tried to think why this had happened.

Schmoozer.

Just like Harvey knows I'm beautiful and fabulous, I know that Katie is beautiful and fabulous. I just assumed I was the only one who has a hard time seeing it in herself, because up until the previous trip to the bathroom, I was the only one that talked about it. I thought Katie knew how desired she was because it seems like every guy I date or show interest in (see: Christopher, 5k Guy and Schmoozer) expresses interest in her instead. I never considered for a second that she didn't see the things that everyone else saw. She seems so much more in control than me.

The moral of the story is that everyone has their own problems. I get that intellectually. But actually learning about these girls I love so much helps me understand it on a better level.

Harvey's husband came in the girl's bathroom and picked up Katie and carried her to his car. She spent the night cuddled up on the floor of Harvey's guest bathroom. And I decided to leave Schmoozer alone for good.

There will always be next week and another guy.