Jacob, 28, kind of a writer, playing for the other team, like to pretend my boots & I are vegan.
Go ahead and ask
Hank, Jeffers, Newman, and Westie stumbled into the diner with the coffee bar. Westie had passed out from the waist up. Newman shoved him over into the inside of their booth. It had been a great concert by whatever-their-names-were. Hank knew. He knew all of the local, national, Indie and everyone else bands. He was their obstetrician. As he slid into the booth next to Jeffers, he began to list his first hundred favorites onto the new OKCupid dating profile he’d begun a week ago.
“How should I start this?” he asked Jeffers.
“List it all: cubby bear, musicholic, etc. etc.”
“People like to write that they’re looking for a perfect snowflake, someone like no other.”
Jeffers and Newman cracked up across the table from one another. Hank couldn’t tell: laughing at him or laughing at each other? He thought they’d been flirting all night. They were always off-and-on.
“This is what you put,” Jeffers said, collar bone showing. Even drunk-faced, Hank thought, his best friend would receive a thousand messages on the site. “If you’re looking for a snowflake, I’m a ray of sunshine.”
Newman cracked up again. “I love you sometimes,” he said.
Jeffers first responded with a lazy glance, then with, “Don’t ever love me.”
“Spend the night with me,” Newman said. Hank blushed at the frankness that only amused Jeffers and at the instant thought of them, later that morning, in a scene any porn site would pay thousands to film. He still thought of a handful of nights (of the many) he’d heard them spend together on the other side of his wall.
“Nope.” Jeffers grinned. “I have someone waiting for me at home.”
“Oh? What’s he do that I don’t?” Newman reached, began to twist a finger or two of Jeffers.
“Haha. Umm, well, he doesn’t want to have meaningful sex and cuddle all night. He doesn’t want to know more than just chitchat about me. He doesn’t want to meet anyone I know. He doesn’t even want to know my name.”
“Flaunt it in my face.”
“You’ll just have settle for, umm, ha! more attractive and umm more relationship-oriented aaand probably even younger than me. It’s all. You’re. Worth”
“How dare you say that a more attractive, more relationship-oriented, probably even younger than me guy is all that I can get.”
Hank typed more attractive, more relationship-oriented, probably even younger than me within the profile box titled Looking For.
Westie looked up, eyes still closed, and said, “Attractive people are the only ones who can have these conversations.” Then he opened a napkin and put it over his face.
Hank interrupted. “Should I put that I have a belly?”
“Yes!” Jeffers said, bending down. He lifted Hank’s shirt up and raspberried his stomach. “There are tons of pervs looking for guys to do that to.”
“But make sure,” Newman said, too pleased already with what he was thinking, “you put it’s a snowflake belly. One of a kind.”
“That’s right: the hairs fan out in a unique pattern,” Jeffers said. “If you’re looking for a snowflake, I’m a ray of sunshine. But my belly hairs create a unique pattern. You’re invited to umm. Haha! To make crop circles in the hairs with your mouth.”
“I’ll have mine scrabbled,” Westie said, lifting his head.
The napkin from his face landed onto Newman’s hand as Jeffers pulled his fingers away. Hank caught a silent conversation in the two friends’ glances at one another, a conversation that maybe they’d have aloud sooner or later. Hopefully sooner. Those were the two words, alone, hopefully sooner, that Hank typed under Looking For. It just made sense in the moment.
Westie yawned while searching for a waiter who wasn’t actually waiting.
I had the same kind of scene with the same kind of characters that haven’t gone anywhere in a Word Doc. So I changed everything except the idea of four drunk friend chatting in a diner.