“I swear to God, I’m at a point
where all I want in someone is a pulse.”
“Don’t
get down on yourself.”
“I’m
serious. Yesterday I tried flirting with a crossing guard.”
“What
do you mean?”
“I’m
at a red light down the street from an elementary school, and there’s a
crossing guard at the corner waiting for the school to let out.”
“Was
she hot?”
“She
was at least sixty.”
“What
was your intro?”
“
‘If necessary, would you have to take a car for a kid?’ ”
“I’m
guessing she wasn’t receptive?
“She
said, ‘Have you ever heard of Megan’s Law?’ ”
“Well,
that’s uncalled-for.”
“That’s
what I said!”
“Of
course bringing up her mortality may not have been the savviest icebreaker.”
“The
icebreaker’s always been my problem. I’m like a golfer who can’t get off the
tee.”
“You
should try an online dating service.”
“Eh…”
“No,
seriously. My friend Mark met his fiancée on JDate.”
“Mark’s
Jewish?”
“No.”
“I
don’t know, man.”
“I’m
telling you, it’s all about confidence. You just be yourself – not obnoxiously,
but unapologetically – and people will gravitate.”
“Easy
for you to say. You’ve never had a problem.”
“It’s
not about quantity. I had to sift through a lot of rough to finally find a
diamond.”
“How
are things with Meredith?”
“Good!
She’s a lot more comfortable around the family now. In fact my mother invited
her down to the shore with us this summer, and she said yes. She even wants to
meet you and the guys.”
“Fantastic.”
“Yeah,
she’s really let a lot of her guard down. She’s started telling me more about
where she’s coming from, her parents and college and all that.”
“Is
it that bad?”
“I
mean, I don’t think so. But I can see
how she got scarred and why she’s gun-shy about opening up. I’ll go into details
with you one day. But right now she’s just coming out of her shell and she
trusts me, and…”
“Don’t
worry about it. When we’re friendly enough, she can tell me.”
“I
appreciate that, man.”
“But
let me ask you. How is she with you drinking?”
“She’s
fine with it. But I limit myself to one out of consideration for her.”
“That’s
downright chivalrous of you.”
“I
think so.”
“Have
you guys talked more about the A.A.?”
“A
little, yeah. She’s actually in a good place where she can talk about it and
she’s rarely tempted. And when she is, she immediately calls her sponsor and
then she’s fine again.”
“What
are those meetings like?”
“I
don’t know. I’ve never been to one.”
“But
what does she say about them?”
“Mostly
generalities. She takes the Anonymous part seriously, so she keeps the
specifics confined to her.”
“You
know, I heard something recently about A.A. I heard for your fifth year of
sobriety they give you a cake.”
“I
don’t know. She’s not there yet.”
“Yeah,
apparently they make a big to-do of it.”
“Really?”
“Yeah,
they wheel the cake out on a cart and they sing and clap and chant or
something.”
“Chant?”
“Well,
not like some Druidic rite or anything. But the cake is supposed to be
outrageous.”
“
‘Outrageous?’ ”
“Yeah,
it’s supposed to be this secret A.A. recipe that gets passed down by
word-of-mouth. Like it’s not written anywhere.”
“What?”
“It’s
supposed to be so delicious that everyone comes to the meeting even if they
don’t attend religiously anymore. I’ve heard people who were in the program but
fell off the wagon will even abstain for as long as possible beforehand. That
way they can go into the meeting with a clean conscience and enjoy the cake.
And if they catch a drunk there, all of A.A., wherever he goes, will ostracize
him from that point on. But first they tie him to a chair and make him watch as
they feast on the delectable cake.”
“What
the hell are you talking about?”
“I’m
talking about A.A. cake.”
“Who
cares about cake?”
“It’s
really good cake. This one guy on a
message board called it, quote, ‘the culinary equivalent of a threesome with
Helen of Troy and a thousand-dollar bill.’ ”
“You
believe everything you read on the internet?”
“Everything
about A.A. cake.”
“Stop
calling it ‘A.A. cake.’ ”
“What
would you call it?”
“I
wouldn’t call it anything because I wouldn’t be sitting here talking about
cake, be it A.A. cake, N.A. cake, or KKKake!”
“Can
you get Meredith to get me some cake?”
“Are
you crazy?”
“Why?”
“I’m
not asking her to get you cake.”
“Please?”
“No!”
“Well,
can she get me into a meeting?”
“NO!”
“Why
not?”
“Because
I’m not asking the woman I love to sneak you into Alcoholics Anonymous so you can steal some goddamn cake!”
“You
got to help me get some of that cake. I need that cake!”
“Why?”
“Are
you my friend?”
“Don’t
pull that on me.”
“I’m
not, I’m not. As my friend, can I confide in you?”
“Yeah.”
“I
have met someone through the internet.”
“Really?
Where?”
“Yeast
explosion dot com.”
“What
the hell is that?”
“It’s
a website for baked goods.”
“You
sure it wasn’t, yeast infection dot
com?”
“Yeah,
I’m sure. Anyway, I was on yeast explosion dot com – ”
“What
were doing on a website for baked goods?”
“It
doesn’t matter.”
“What
were you doing there?”
“I
thought it was yeast infection dot com.”
“Ugh.”
“ANYWAY…
I was there and I started chatting with this guy who’s looking to take his
bakery to the next level. He started talking about how great it would be for
him if he could get his hands on the recipe for A.A. cake. So I told him I knew
someone in A.A.”
“And?”
“And
I told him I’d try to get the recipe or at least a sample – ”
“No.
I mean why are you trying to seduce a guy?”
“Not
him! We made a deal: I give him the A.A. cake, he gives me his daughter.”
“HIS
DAUGHTER!?!”
“Yeah.”
“I’ll
ask again: are – you – crazy!?!”
“What?
It’s on the up-and-up.”
“No
it’s not! He’s pimping his daughter!”
“It’s
fine. He says she’s very slow and stammers like Claudius. So if you think about
it, what I’m doing is straight-up benevolent.”
“Does
she have a say in this?”
“He
says as long as I take her once a week to McDonald’s and let her go in the
playground, she won’t even notice.”
“Oh
my God, I don’t think I can be friends with you anymore.”
“Don’t
judge me! When you’re a lost cause, you take what you can get!”
“I
told you, if you have confidence – ”
“I
will have confidence if you get me some
A.A. cake.”
“I
want you to listen to me very carefully. I will never betray the woman I am
going to marry so that you can infiltrate a group of people whose health depends
on anonymity, steal some fabled pastry with spurious properties, and use it to
barter with an unscrupulous scumbag you met on the internet in exchange for a
retarded girl who may or may not be his daughter!”
“You
only care about yourself.”
