The Art of Finding the Right Guy
an excerpt

by Michaela Oberlaender

Prologue

The pungent stench of spilled alcohol and vomit permeated the air. My eyes were glazed over and the hazy smoke hovering like a low-lying cloud made seeing practically impossible. Ouch!
My head painfully connected with a door frame that wasn’t where it should have been. I wasn’t where I should have been. A sharp pain from my groin area halted my forward momentum. I gingerly reached down to feel what was wrong. My thighs were damp and my skirt was askew. Was that blood? I couldn’t see straight, but I was pretty sure that at least some of that liquid was blood. Puzzling. My whole body seemed to ache, but the pains from the lower abdomen were the worst. My upper arm sported a painful bruise–it was bound to be a beaut when it was in full bloom. How had I gotten myself into this mess? My recollection was hazy, but I was fairly certain that it wasn’t entirely my fault. Was there anyone here to help me? A glance around showed little. Too hazy. I didn’t recognize anything or anyone in particular. That was out. Did I have enough money to catch a cab home? I wish the pounding techno beat would subside in the background. It amplified my pain. I wiped my forearm across my eyes, only to notice that I had been crying all of this time. My mascara must be a mess. I bet I look like a racoon, I thought inconsequentially.
Home! How to get home? I’m never going to let this happen again. If I had better judgment in male companions, this wouldn’t have happened. Whatever this is. I want a guy, but at this cost? I’m not going to think about this any more. Nothing good will come of it. I’d better call her, let her know I’m alive, so to speak. Then home, a shower, and oblivion.
With shaking hands, I dialed my cell, which was making that annoying low-battery beep. Thankfully, she was number two on my speed dial, and I could just about manage that. I had stumbled out some back door. (A bar? Hard to tell in my state.) The techno was minimally quieter, although loud revelers were still thronging the street. “Hi.” The weak voice croaked at the other end of the line.
“It’s me.” I sobbed.
“I can’t talk right now. I feel like death.”
“Me, too,” I answered. The background noise was canceling out my low crying. It probably sounded like a big party to my friend at the other end. I could barely hear myself think, and it was hard to make out her response. It sounded like she was saying something about being sick all day and night and that it was something serious. But I couldn’t swear to it. I was in no frame of mind to swear to anything other than that I was distraught. It was also clear that she couldn’t hear me over the din. If I hadn’t been feeling so awful, I might have found the “can you hear me now?” aspect of the conversation amusing. We could have been in one of those cell phone commercials, if they ever decided to take on ghoulish overtones.
“I can’t hear you,” my friend shouted into her end of the conversation. “I’ve got to get off the line, okay?”
“Okay. . .” My sobs were once again absorbed by the inane whooping of two beer-guzzling drunks nearby. My inbred sense of the golden rule let me add something about telling her to feel better–a piece of advice I could have used myself. I signed off with: “Just remember that we need to find the right guy next semester. I can’t go through this any more.”
“Okay. Right guy. Got it. I’m gonna die. . .”
I sat on the curb, with my head in my hands. The bleeding seemed to have stopped. Even my friend couldn’t be bothered right now. I just can’t handle this, I thought. I just won’t think of it any more. I’ll focus on finding the right guy, and I’ll never have to go through this again. That’s what I’ll do, I thought.

The Caveman

“He seemed like a caveman in a fun sort of way,” Nicole Bouchard said as she set down her coffee. “Of course it could have been because he practically dragged me off to his king sized bed, and we didn’t surface for most of the weekend.”
Her roommate Daniela Weston gave her a shrewd look. “So, that’s why you showed up at the condo the week before classes started, while everyone was still enjoying Christmas break. You wanted to get a jump on us on finding an interesting guy.”
“I thought we decided that we would take all semester to try and find the right guy this time,” Nicole’s best friend Kaitlyn Andrews chimed in. She dipped her finger into the swirl of whipped cream on top of her crepes and licked it off as she settled into the booth of the Clearwater Coffee Shop with her friends. “Just remember some of the dating disasters from fall semester. This time we said we’d do some research before we get sucked in again.”
“Oh, but this was part of my research,” Nicole countered. “I wanted to see if women really do make up their minds about guys in the first few seconds that they meet and how correct those impressions are.” She bit into her hard biscotti and squinched her face in displeasure.
“Why do you buy those things? You know you don’t like them,” Kaitlyn said, after savoring some of her strawberry-topped crepe. With her pixie cut brunette hair, currently shimmering with light green tips, Kaitlyn’s waif-like looks belied the upper body strength she needed when she was carving one of her sculptures. She wore her traditional uniform of oversized jeans overalls and a tight T-shirt that showed off her B-cup top.
“You should ask. You can eat a horse and not gain any weight. I can look at food and get bigger,” Nicole answered as she critically looked down on her own curvy figure. “I get the biscotti because they’re so hard that I only gum them like a toddler. Fewer calories ingested.”
“Well, your looks certainly haven’t kept you from hooking up with lots of guys,” Daniela added as she took in her roomie’s short, voluptuous frame, luminous blue eyes, and super curly, long blonde hair. “Now give. Tell us about the caveman already.”
“All right. He really is a hottie, if you go for the strong, masculine type. Unrefined, you know,” Nicole explained. “We met at the CVS Pharmacy when we were both shopping for pain killers on New Year’s day in the late afternoon. You could say we’d both had a rough night the evening before and needed something stronger than hair of the dog.”
“Whoa. Back up!” Kaitlyn interjected. “What happened to the no alcohol ever again after Guavaween bit? You were so sure that you’d lay off at least until you’re legal. Don’t you remember how bad it got then?” She angrily half-rose in the booth in indignation.
“You’re right. I know, I know. I promised. But I got so lonely on New Year’s Eve. Both of you were gone, the campus was dead because hardly anyone had returned, and I had no one to hang out with,” Nicole said. “I found the bottle of champagne chilling in the fridge, and curled up with it on the couch.” She turned toward Daniela and apologized: “Sorry. I replaced it the next day.”
“Don’t worry about that. I’m amazed that you actually got a guy to pick you up when you were hung over,” Daniela replied. “I could never do that.”
“Of course you could, sweetie,” Kaitlyn soothed. “It’s just that you’re so proper that guys think you’re a little stand-offish. I’m sure if you loosen up a little, it would work wonders. Besides, you know that Nicole’s never met a stranger. She’d strike up a friendly conversation with Osama Bin Laden if she met him in the grocery store checkout.”
“Hey, I don’t think that sounds like a compliment,” Nicole protested.
“Well, I’m still pissed at you for going back on your word about the drinking,” Kaitlyn said. “But I’ll get over it. Spending New Year’s all alone with Dick Clark isn’t my idea of fun either.”
“I’ve got to be comfortable talking to anyone if I’m going to be a successful journalist,” Nicole said. “Besides, I didn’t look hung over. I’d actually dressed in my favorite jeans mini and put on make-up and everything, since I was thinking of going out. Then Adam sort of convinced me that staying in would be more fun.”
“Adam?”
“That’s the caveman’s name. Fitting, don’t you think?” Nicole smiled. “Actually, I didn’t think of him as a caveman until tonight’s art history lecture. When Ms. English started talking about the Paleolithic hunter-gatherers, I sort of pictured us in the mouth of a cave at the end of an ice age. I think Adam would have been strong enough to hunt a bison and drag him back home with his band of followers.” Her voice trailed off. “And keep his woman warm, of course.”
“What did you think of Ms. English?” Daniela changed the subject. As an art history major, Daniela, a leggy brunette, was a big fan of Ms. English’s lecture style and had talked Nicole and Kaitlyn into taking the evening Art History I survey class with her this term.
“I liked her,” Kaitlyn said. “Of course it was kind of weird when she talked about the pubic area and the huge pendulous breasts of the Venus of Willendorf. I never had a teacher that talked so matter-of-factly about sex organs before,” she added.
“Oh, you’ll get used to it,” Daniela reassured. “This term we’re going to see lots of nudes in art, since we’re covering the classical period.”
“I sort of liked the notion that Venus could have been an ideal ice age woman, since her body fat would mean that she had better odds of surviving,” Nicole said. “Just think, my body type might have been in fashion once upon a time. Just not the time I live in. Figures. But I can’t wait until we get to the nude Greek guys. I am surprised that you aren’t more prudish about all the nakedness, Daniela. After all, you’re the most reserved of the three of us,” she teased.
“There are some definite advantages to being an art history major.” Daniela grinned. “All that sitting in the dark, looking at slides of nudes, for one thing. I also like looking around to see how the guys react to the more explicit stuff. It can be pretty funny to see them squirm.”
“So, when are you going to see Adam again?” Kaitlyn asked.
“I’m not sure. He was really fun in the sack, but after a long weekend of staying in and ordering Domino’s, we were worn out. Then, he just wanted to veg on the couch and watch football. Bo-ring,” Nichole explained. “Come to think of it, he also grunted a lot, instead of carrying on a real conversation. When he let a big one rip, I thought it was time for me to take a breather. I mean, I hadn’t even known him for a week!”
“Gross.”
“How long do you have to know a guy before it’s okay for him to fart on a date?” Kaitlyn asked seriously.
“Never is too soon for me,” Daniela said. “That is just so disgusting.”
“Well, you might want to adjust your attitude about that,” Nichole said. “In my experience, all guys do it sooner or later. And they love the jokes that go with it.
“I even dated one guy who rated his farts on a scale of one to ten. You know, one was a popcorn fart, and ten is a paint-peeling-off-the-walls type of thing. When he told me that he aspired to best a ten, I knew there would be no future for us.”
“This will make me finding the right guy this term that much harder,” Daniela sighed. “I was really hoping to find someone a little refined for a change. I mean that’s why I like the Clearwater Coffee shop. With its classical music it seems little more distinguished than some of the other hang-outs.” She looked around at the dimly lit dining room with the black-and-white photographs of Paris and other European capitals on the walls. With fresh flowers and a lit candle on each of the tables, and black-and-white suited wait staff, it did indeed seem a cut above the typical student dive.
The three finished their late evening snack and headed out into the chilly evening. With the temperatures in the high 50s, they all hugged their jackets a little tighter.
“I can’t wait until it warms up a little,” Nicole said. “It’s supposed to be warm in Florida. I almost always forget to bring a jacket and then I get too cold.
“Shall we drop you at the studio or at your dorm, Kaitlyn?”
“I think I’ll just go to the dorm, thanks,” she replied. “We have a couple of new kids on the floor that just started at Clearwater University this term, so I should probably do the friendly RA thing to make them feel welcome.”
“I don’t know how you can handle being a resident advisor,” Daniela said. “I mean, they bug you about every little thing all hours of the night.”
“Not everyone can own her own duplex like you do,” Kaitlyn said. “Besides, you’re a few years older than us and are probably not as willing to put up with 18 to 22-year olds as I am. And as RA, I at least get a single room, and don’t have to share like last year.”
“I’m glad that you’re letting me bunk at your place, Daniela,” Nichole said. “I’m not cut out to be an RA and I sure wasn’t going to do the roommate thing again after last semester. Uugh.” She shuddered. “You’re not allowed to sleep with the guys on your floor as an RA, isn’t that right, Kaitlyn?”
“Well, you’re not supposed to,” she replied, “but you know how that goes. But when you break up badly, it can cause you a world of hurt. You can even get thrown out of the dorms permanently. It’s just not worth it.”
“I don’t think I’d be interested in boys who live in dorms anyway,” Daniela said. “I mean, after having worked in the real world before returning to school, they just seem so young. But the ones that still live with their parents are the worst. I want them to grow up some before I go out with them. Let someone else break them in, I say.”
Fifteen minutes later, Kaitlyn was dropped off at her high-rise dormitory, and Nicole and Daniela settled in to the overstuffed couches with the shell pattern in Daniela’s living room.
“How was your break?” Nicole asked as she hugged one of the pillows. “Did you meet anyone interesting?”
“You mean, did I meet an interesting guy?” Daniela countered. “I wish I could say yes, but I’d be lying. I went up to Asheville to stay with my parents. It was really pretty and we even had some snow over the holidays. But when people call this area here ‘God’s waiting room,’ they haven’t seen all the older folks retiring in the mountains of North Carolina. They’re either ancient or rednecks or both. Not an option. Maybe I’m just too choosy.”
“Choosy is not always bad. You just have to be open to the possibility that Mr. Right may not come packaged the way you like,” Nichole explained. “I mean if it were that easy, we wouldn’t have had so many dating disasters last fall. And look at me: I took one look at Adam, sized him up, and thought I was on to something.
“I guess the notion that a woman decides everything she has to about a man in the first few seconds isn’t quite right after all.”
“What about taking things slowly to find out if he’s the one?” Daniela asked.
“That sounds great in theory,” Nicole mused. “But I think guys won’t really hang around unless I put out. I mean every one has ‘friends with benefits’ these days. If I don’t compete in that area, why would they bother to take the time to get to know me? On the other hand, I should take my own advice to heart for a change and go beyond first impressions.
“I mean, Adam seemed like the strong, forceful type, but when it went beyond sex, he was mostly dull. He was interested in sex, beer, and football, and not always in that order. Since I don’t particularly like beer or football, we ran out of common ground pretty soon.
“Now, I’m really wiped, so I think I’ll turn in. Thanks for letting me be your roomie on such short notice. I know I couldn’t have faced another semester in the dorm I was in. You’re really a life saver. And thanks for talking us into taking that art history class. I think I’m really going to like it.” She yawned as she made her way to her own bedroom.