See that woman over there, the Frigid Old Maid getting drunk alone and waiting for her date? So sad how she desperately wants to make a sexy impression—look at the way she’s unbuttoning her blouse and crossing her legs. So obvious. She’s trying way too hard.
I squeezed my eyes shut and shook my head. I didn’t even want to imagine the rest. It was too humiliating.
A moment later, Emme pulled up and I flung myself into the passenger seat.
Her eyes went wide. “What happened? And why are you only wearing one shoe?”
I pulled the door shut. “It’s a long story. One that does not end well for me.”
“No proposal?”
“Not even close.”
As we pulled away from the curb, I saw Fear of Rejection come out of the restaurant. She looked happy.
Maybe I should buy some black lace underwear.
“Want to talk about it?” Emme asked.
“What’s to talk about? I’m an idiot. A boring, beige idiot.”
“Stella! No, you’re not.”
“Yes, I am, Emme. Walter wasn’t being secretive because he was planning a surprise proposal for my birthday—he was being secretive because he’s seeing someone else.” Suddenly the tousled hair made more sense.
Emme gasped. “You’re joking!”
“I’m afraid not. I can’t even decide what’s worse—the fact that he came here tonight to dump me when I thought he was going to pop the question, or the fact that I was going to say yes.”
“Oh, Stella. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. It’s my fault. I should have seen this coming.”
“I don’t think that’s true at all. How could you have known?”
“God, Emme.” I propped my elbow on the window and tipped my head into my hand. “Where did I go wrong? I thought Walter was right for me. I thought things were fine. I thought we’d get married and buy a house and have two kids and a dog and some goldfish and some bees, and we’d be settled and happy. What happened?”
“You’d have been settled, maybe, but would you really have been happy?” she asked.
“Yes,” I answered stubbornly, although I wasn’t sure anymore. Had I talked myself into wanting to spend the rest of my life with Walter just because he looked good on paper? Would I have been settling in the wrong way?
“I don’t know, Stell,” Emme went on. “I’ll just be honest—I liked Walter fine, but there was zero spark between you. And I think to be happy, you need spark.”
“But … but what if I’m not capable of spark?”
“What do you mean?” Emme glanced at me, brow furrowed. “Everyone is capable of spark. You just have to find the right person.”
“But what if I’m not good at it? What if I don’t have that sex appeal thing guys like? What if fucking me is like fucking a cold, dead fish?”
Emme’s jaw dropped. “Did Walter say that to you?” she asked slowly.
Fuck. I hadn’t meant to spill that. “No. I never slept with Walter.”
“Did … did someone else say it?”
“No,” I lied, biting the tip of my thumb.
“I don’t believe you,” she said, glancing at me. “Tell me the truth.”
Part of me wanted to deny it, but another part was glad to have it out there. I bit my lip. “Yes. Someone else did.”
“Oh my God, Stella! When?”
“College.”
“That long ago?” Emme shook her head in disbelief, gripping the steering wheel with both hands. “Why didn’t you ever say anything about it?”
“Because it’s humiliating!” I exploded. “You and Maren are so sexy and confident, and you have such great sex lives with your sex god fiancés and multiple O’s, and I’m a failure!”
“Oh, honey, no. That was one guy. One fucking jerk who probably has a small dick and doesn’t know the first thing about how to please a woman. Was he your first?” she asked, turning onto my street.
I sighed. “Yeah. He was a year older than me, but I was tutoring him in chemistry. He was on the football team and needed to keep his grades up. I was totally, hopelessly in love with him.”
“How long were you dating?”
“Not sure you could call it dating. Mostly we just had sex in his bedroom while we were supposed to be studying. Then he dumped me at the end of the semester and told all his friends I was a terrible fuck. It got back to me.”
She pulled into my driveway and put her car in park. “How did you feel about the sex? Did you enjoy it?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know. I was just so nervous every time. He was the first guy I’d ever been completely naked with, and I would think about all the hot girls he’d probably been with before me. I wanted to please him, but I worried I didn’t compare.”
Emme groaned. “I hate that feeling.”
“I didn’t have sex for a long time after that. And even then, it was tough to enjoy.” I paused. “Even now.”
“Is it?” she asked gently, glancing at me.
“Yes,” I admitted. “I have trouble relaxing. I’m too worried about what he’s thinking, that I’m not living up to his expectations.”
“Guys don’t think during sex, Stella. They’re too busy feeling like a fucking superhero.”
“Maybe with you.”
“But it was only the one guy who said that, right?”
“Right. But other guys have told me I seem unresponsive in bed. Like I’m not having fun.”
“It probably comes off that way because you’re nervous, and I don’t blame you. You just have to find the right guy! One who will be patient and understanding, one who knows his way around a woman’s body and gets off on pleasing you.”
I sniffed. “I’m not sure I’ll ever find that guy.”
“You also need to date guys you actually want to bang, Stella. I understand now why you pick such safe types, but maybe if you were super hot in the pants for somebody, you’d have an easier time enjoying sex.”
“Maybe.” But I wasn’t convinced that was the answer. “Or maybe I’m just bad in bed.”
“I refuse to believe that.” She sighed. “Haven’t you ever wanted to just rip someone’s clothes off and go at it?”
I thought for a moment. There was this guy at my oil change place that I sometimes worked into my LELO fantasies, but—
“You’re taking too long to answer this question.”
“Sorry.” I shrugged. “I just don’t get those feelings too often. It’s like I’ve trained myself to shut them down.”
She pointed a finger at me. “You know what you should do? Have a fuck fling.”
“A fuck fling?” I wrinkled my nose. “That does not sound like me at all.”
“Because it isn’t. You’re all about the long-term plan, the long-distance run, the big picture. But a meaningless, short-term fuck fling with someone who can teach you to enjoy sex without feeling so self-conscious is exactly what you need. Pleasure for pleasure’s sake.”
“I don’t think that’s the—”
“Oh! Oh!” She snapped her fingers. “You know what would be even better? If he didn’t even speak English! That way you won’t even know what he’s saying!”
I groaned and opened the car door.
“I’m serious,” she said, poking my leg. “Go inside and book a trip somewhere. Italy. France. Brazil. Buy some sexy clothes, pack a bag, and get out of town.”
“I’ll think about it.” I took off my second shoe and tucked it into my bag. “Thanks for driving me home. I had too much wine.”
“That’s what sisters are for. We’ll go get your car tomorrow. Listen, I love you and I’ve been there. Things are going to get better.”
A sound escaped me, something between a sob and a laugh. “Right.”
“They will,” she insisted. “Walter wasn’t the one, Stella. But the one is out there. You’ll find him.”