Flash Fiction

A Beacon for the Metaphorical Penis
Chapter 5

It had been too long since Dee updated her blog. It wasn’t that she was running out of dating advice on how to stay away from the wrong kind of guy–the douche bags, the dickheads–but more that Dee could not get that damned conversation out of her head. The one she’d overheard at the pizza place.

After the two men walked away–to finish their deep conversation sans eavesdropper, she assumed– Dee could not stop wondering over and imagining the details.

But that’s enough of that, Dee thought, and began typing a random list of dating do’s and dont’s into her blog:

DO: take cash, cell phone charger, and a spare toothbrush. As a modern woman, shoot for self-containment.
DON’T: order sticky food that you’ll want to lick off your fingers–for obvious reasons–unless it’s after the third date. DON’T: Order foods with the potential to get stuck at that odd space between two molars,unless you’ve got that toothbrush, because chances are it will. Get stuck. And you’ll spend the rest of the night trying not to look like your sucking your teeth. DO: pay attention to your dates reaction to your food choices. If he’s offended that you’ve order a pizza from the kiddies menu at the steakhouse, he’s too controlling, and you should NOT agree to a second date.

Dee looked over all she’d written after she hit publish and sighed. It was crap. All of it. Sure, it was true, but that didn’t make it good.

She wanted to write something meaningful. Something that would affect the reader. She wanted to write a love story. All the one’s she’d read recently were so predictable. The happily ever after practically guaranteed from the get-go. The obligatory alpha male/billionaire type love interest was practically cookie cutter in that he always corrupted the poor, innocent intern or college student. Oh, and lots of gratuitous sex at the expense of said girls dignity.

Dee wanted her story to be something different. Trouble was, she had no idea what that difference might be. And she was still so curious about the two mens’ conversation at the Corporate Games. She hadn’t even seen the mans face. Only heard his voice. She listened for that voice the remainder of the night. But it had been lost in the terrible eighties music that began blasting from every speaker once the Guitar Hero tournament began.
That night, she’d been so distracted with her longing that she inadvertently agreed to a double- date slash set up! And Dee didn’t do blind dates. Ever. Not even if they guy was “really sweet, and successful,” and one of Steve’s– her best friend Laylas husband.
Once Dee realized the faux pas, she tried to get out of it. She’d even texted Laylas, pretending to have a fever. But Layla simply texted back:
Pop some ibuprofen. You’re not getting out of this!

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