Page 6 of Pity Party
“I won’t be in until noon. Howard has an appointment with his orthopedist, and I promised to take him.”
My mother drives Howard everywhere like he’s a cripple—which he is not. He has arthritis in his left pinky toe. At sixty-six years old, that’s the only thing wrong with the man. That is, if you don’t count his innate laziness in all domestic matters. My mother is practically his servant.
“Fine, see you at noon.” I let the door close behind me without saying another word.
Pulling my phone out of my purse I call my friend Paige. She answers after two rings. “Yo!”
“Am I picking up the pizza or are we having it delivered?”
“I’ve already ordered it.”
“Fine, I’ll grab the beer on my way.”
“Cheers,” she says before hanging up. Paige and I have a weekly Friday night rom-com movie date night unless one of us has a real date. So far, we’ve seen each other eighteen Fridays in a row. The week we skipped, I watched the movie on my own.
I head up the street a half-block to the liquor store. A blast of cold air hits me in the face when I open the door. I don’t know if it’s just a Wisconsin thing, but liquor stores here are always ten degrees colder than every other store. It’s like they’re trying to sober you up long enough to make sure you buy your booze and then freeze you out, so you won’t hang around loitering in the aisles.
After grabbing a six-pack of Black Gold and a pack of breath mints, I walk the six blocks to Paige’s house. Unlike me, my friend has bitten the bullet and bought a home of her own. Personally, I don’t want the responsibility of yard work and property maintenance just yet. Also, in a bid to feel like there’s some excitement in my life, I visit somewhere new for a week every year. Paige is too house-poor for that and counts herself lucky to spend an overnight in Chicago every December for her annual Christmas shopping weekend.
Yet, as I stroll up her overgrown cobblestone path, I can’t help but feel enchanted by her little white cottage. Yes, there’s moss on the roof and there are more weeds than grass, but the potential is so obvious. You almost don’t see the rough state everything is in.
The door swings open before I can even knock. Paige is wearing cutoff jean shorts and a tank top. Her blonde hair is tied up in a blue handkerchief, making her look like an old-school gangster. Holding up the six-pack, I announce, “The party has arrived! You don’t have to go in to school tomorrow, do you?” Paige is a seventh-grade math teacher at Elk Lake Junior High.
“I’m going in, but only to put the finishing touches on my room. I don’t have any meetings or anything.” She steps away from the door to make room for me. “What are we watching tonight? I was thinking50 First Dates.”
I shake my head vigorously. “That one makes me too anxious. Imagine having to reintroduce yourself to the person who loves you every day? Nope, can’t do it.”
Walking into Paige’s tiny living room, I stoop down to pick up her cat. Claude is a fat tabby who loves me like I’m his own mother. He’ll sit on my lap for ear scratches most of the night.
“Hope Floats?” she asks next.
“That one always makes me wish I’d moved away and made a name for myself so I could come back to town in a blaze of glory.”
“Sandra Bullock’s character did not come back in a blaze of glory. Her husband announced on national television that he was sleeping with her best friend.” Paige plops down on one of the two loveseats. The room isn’t big enough for a full-sized couch.
Claude and I settle in on the seat next to her. “At least she got away.”
“Pretty Woman?” she tries.
“I can’t get past the whole Julia Roberts being a sex worker thing. I mean, yes, it’s wonderfully fairytale-like that she wound up with Richard Gere, but yuck to the rest.”
“It doesn’t sound like you’re up for a rom-com tonight.” I think she’s hit the nail on the head. “What do you want instead, a mystery? Thriller? Horror?”
The ringing doorbell keeps me from answering. Paige grabs her wallet off the coffee table and jumps to her feet to pay for our pizza. While she’s gone, I pick up the remote and start to flip through channels hoping to find inspiration. By the time she gets back, I’ve settled on something.
“Midwestern Matchmaker? I’ve never even heard of this one.” Paige sits down while I hit play and we watch in great anticipation as the camera shows a montage of the Midwestern Matchmaker doing her thing to a jazzed-up soundtrack of the “Wedding March.” She looks like an ex-model, which makes me wonder if all the prospective grooms fall in love with her first.
Once the intro is over, she glides in front of the camera like an Olympic figure skater taking the ice. Her blonde hair is pulled back into a tight but fashionable bun, which allows you to see just how high her cheekbones really are. Jealous.
Hello all you Midwestern singles! Welcome toMidwestern Matchmaker. My name is Trina Rockwell and I’m here to help you find love!
Paige and I watch the first episode with rapt interest. Trina interviews a handful of women, offering them basic advice on how to put their best foot forward. She does not, however, suggest any physical changes. For instance, she never tells anyone to lose weight or laser off unsightly moles. Although I wish she’d said something in the case of unibrow girl. But Trina’s philosophy is that there’s someone for everyone and you shouldn’t have to change yourself to find that person. While I love the concept, I’m willing to bet ol’ unibrow would have a greater selection of matches if she waxed a little.
Once Trina interviews the women, she moves on to the men. She says things like, “When you go on a first date, you want to entice the woman to want to know you better. So don’t talk about yourself nonstop and don’t tell her she’s hot before inviting her to your bedroom. Tell her she’s intriguing and you want to get to know her better.”
The guy with the slicked back hair and wannabe handlebar mustache asks, “But what if she wants to bang?” He inserts a highly suggestive pelvic thrust in case people don’t know what banging is.These are the trolls us women have to deal with on a daily basis.
Trina rolls her eyes. “You’re on this show to find everlasting love, Trey. If all you’re interested in is banging, then hit one of the swiping apps.”