When he asked me to make out, I don’t think the reaction he wanted from me was a wave to [another guy friend], who was sitting five feet away from us in the cramped living room. Not awkward.

“Hi Baby Cakes!” –even added the powerful one-two combination of chin-lift/eye-roll to the greeting.

“Hello, Molly.” His returning wave reeked with mocking enthusiasm. I love/hate that about him.

The guy has a fairly serious girlfriend, so I knew nothing was going to happen – all the same, my battered ego appreciated that at least someone liked the idea of making out with me.

In my sober state –I had been nominated as driver when they were already in shambles when I arrived at the bar a few hours earlier –I diplomatically asked the make-out dude if he thought that making out might be slightly uncomfortable, what with someone sitting so close to us. He contemplated this profoundly, as if he hadn’t thought that far ahead. He then posed another question.

“Molly, why are you single? You’re so cute; why are you single?”

I hate that question. There is no answer for that question. People who ask that question deserve a swift kick in the shins. Instead, I wryly said, “It’s my personality. It totally sucks.”

My humor was lost on him, but it made the other guy friend, who was slightly-less-drunk and chain smoking in a nearby old-man chair, complete with torn fabric and a broken recliner, give a chuckle and shake his head.

Left without making-out as a viable activity, he put my feet in his lap and tried to crack my toes. Most girls would get guys who, perhaps, would use the situation for a foot massage; I get ones who crack my toes. I win. Only two cracked, much to his annoyance.

The display was sardonically being observed, and I again heard laughter from the vicinity of the old-man chair.

His head eventually found way to my shoulder, in a beer-induced repose, and I started a nonchalant conversation with the other friend, as if I didn’t have someone attached to the underside of my chin. When my napping friend woke, twenty minutes later, alert and startled, he said, “OHMYGOD, I am TOTALLY hitting on you right now. IAMSOSORRY.”

Yes, he was. And it was awkward and unsuccessful and totally inappropriate, given his circumstances, but it was also amusing and harmless – and at least I didn’t have to finish the week like it started –feeling unwanted and pathetic and the fool. It’s a good friend who takes that role for me.

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