The Story Guy (Novella) Read Online Free PDF

That’s a hook-up in the park, like what my gay ancestors had to do for love.”
    “Ancestors?”
    “Whatever. So. Just kissing?”
    “I asked him out after.”
    “After you snogged?”
    “Right.” I suddenly feel tired and bloated, and I rest my forehead against the edge of the table.
    “Like, directly after? Your lips unlocked, and you said, ‘Hey, let’s get a burger, kissing fetish guy’?”
    I take a deep breath, and on my exhale, the last four days of anticipation and intensity and magic leak out, stale and foggy. “Not exactly.” I sit up. Justin looks confused and concerned. “It was this— great kiss. And there was something. And also, a lack of something. No warning bells. Just all good somethings. So I basically said that we wouldn’t have to wait until next Wednesday.”
    “And he?”
    “He bailed. In a nice way, not being a jerk at all, but the lights went off in his eyes and he rode away.”
    “On his bike.”
    “Yeah.” I expect Justin’s shrug, his worldly reassurance that the whole thing wasweird and it sucks and that I should order another pitcher and forget about it. I realize it’s why I was glad he could come out with me. While he loves Aaron, they’re both very— secular . They’re young, but very grown-up.
    They’re romance atheists. I need a romance atheist to de-evangelize me.
    “How did you set this up?”
    “What do you mean?”
    “I mean, you contacted him through the MetroLink mail, and then—”
    “IM.”
    “So do that.”
    “Message him?” Justin is looking into some imaginary distance over my right shoulder, stroking his ridiculous handlebar mustache. He looks back at me and grins.
    “Yeah, message him. Go home and message him.” He pushes away from the table and reaches his hand toward me to pull me out. “Do that. Take an antacid, too, because this chicken is going to repeat.”
    “You’re supposed to be talking me off my middle-aged lady ledge.” We leave and start walking toward his building, and he hooks his arm through mine.
    “I know, but I just bet something interesting will happen if you try to talk to him without the whole date thing. Sure, maybe he is just a normal-seeming guy with a weird sex thing and it’s all bad news, and I recommend staying kind of disengaged until you find out, but he may be a story guy.”
    “A story guy?”
    “Yeah, a good guy with a bad story doing something stupid.”
    “Explain to me why a story guy is better than a pervert.”
    “Story guys are like life highlighters. Your life is all these big blocks of gray text, and then a story guy comes in with a big ol’ paragraph of neon pink so that when you flip back through your life, you can stop and remember all the important and interesting places.”
    I stop walking, my middle suddenly insubstantial. “Justin, what the hell? You’re always the sensible one.”
    He laughs. “I am sensible, but I’ve had a couple of story guys and I’m just saying, it’s nice to have those, here and there, both for the way they make everything glittery fora while and to make you appreciate the one you end up making a story with.”
    We’re at his door. “So message him, huh?”
    “Yep. Get that story, Ace.”
    Justin whistles as he walks inside.

Sunday, 1:08 a.m.
    lieberries: GearTattoo?
    I’ve been on for about twenty minutes, with my Brian signal shining. His screen name has remained dark on my contact list. I have the trappings of disengagement—a glass of wine, sweatpants, a novel I’ve been meaning to read—but I am so engaged I’d be more comfortable if my finger were stuck in a wall socket.
    Just as I reach over to my laptop to turn on music so I stop hearing phantom IM chimes, his name turns green. I stare at the screen so hard, my eyes start to water. I jump when the chime bongs for real.
    GearTattoo: Carrie?
    I force myself to do a seven-second yoga breath.
    lieberries: Hey Brian—fancy meeting you here.
    I wince but hit Reply anyway.
    I have no wit