Cowboy Baby Daddy

“Hey there,” I say as I walk up, wrapping my arms around her.

“Well good morning to both of you,” she laughs. “Did you change your mind on coffee?”

“Nah,” I answer.

“So, there is something I think we should probably talk about,” she says. “I don’t want to put it all on the line or anything, but I just want to know where you stand.”

“Okay.”

“Your roommate,” she says, “what is the deal with the two of you?”

The question catches me off guard.

“What do you mean?” I ask.

“Well, the first night we got together, you shouted her name as you were coming. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not judging or anything.”

“Yeah, didn’t you shout your name about that same time?”

“Yeah, but whatever,” she says, leaning back into me. “I just need to know what kind of relationship the two of you have. Like, are you just roommates, are you roommates that fuck, are you hung up on her, what?”

“We’re just roommates,” I tell her. “We’ve had a near miss or two—actually, now that I think about it, just the one, but it was kind of drawn out—but no, nothing’s ever happened.”

We’re in a relationship, and people in relationships are supposed to be honest with each other, right?

“Okay,” she says. “You’re being totally honest, right? I’m not going to impale you with a meat thermometer if you tell me the two of you have bumped uglies.”

“You know, that’s one of my least favorite terms for it,” I laugh.

“I’m serious,” she says. “This is the free pass for both of us. You can say pretty much whatever here, and as long as it’s not way too fucking overboard, it’ll slide.”

“Really,” I tell her, “nothing’s happened.”

“Yeah,” she says, “I heard you the first time, but are there feelings there or what? Guys don’t usually call out the name of their roommate when they’re slogging someone else’s snatch.”

“Where the fuck did you learn to talk like that?”

“Answer the question,” she says, pulling away from me to butter the toast she pulls from the toaster.

“I don’t know,” I tell her. “I thought there might have been something there, but she’s with some other guy now. It doesn’t matter.”

“So if she weren’t single…?”

“Nothing happened when she was,” I answer, starting to get a little tired of this particular line of questioning. I understand where Wrigley’s coming from, but I wasn’t prepared for it this morning.

“But if she weren’t single now, would you be here with me?”

“What does it even matter?” I snap. “I’m not there, I’m here. Can we just drop it?”

“No,” she answers calmly. “I think you should be honest with yourself before you really decide to jump into something with me. Am I the woman that you really want to be with, or am I just a decent second choice? You’re really not going to hurt my feelings unless you lie to me.”

“How do you do that?” I ask.

“Do what?”

“Just stand there and calmly ask me if I’d rather be with someone else?”

“Well, it does seem like something that might make things difficult for us in the long run, and if that’s the case, I’d like to be prepared for it. I don’t see any reason to begrudge you your feelings if that’s what they are. Is that what they are?”