Can you at least pull my hair?
“That’s funny.” I can’t stop laughing.
“And you bought me this because?”
“Because you told me you like it when guys pull your hair.”
“When did I tell you that?”
“Oh fuck off. Are you denying it?”
“No, yes, shut up, stop it,” she laughs. “Show me a red–blooded woman who doesn’t like having her hair pulled.” Bridget and I both look at each other sheepishly and raise our hands in unison. She pulls a disgusted face. “God, you two must be shit in bed.” She rolls her eyes while we giggle. “Anyway I can’t put this on my car, my dad will freak.” She shakes her head as she stuffs it in her bag.
“Ok, back to the conversation. Once and for all tell me why you think he’s cheating. I want ten reasons.” I wave my teaspoon at her. “No excuses.”
“Ok,” she nods. “We used to see each other every night but now he’s a partner in his law firm I don’t see him much through the week.”
“Ok, maybe he’s just working,” I answer.
“Maybe,” she nods. “The sex has dropped off.”
“By how much?”
“Well it used to be three or four times a week and now it’s like once a week and usually I initiate it.”
“Maybe he’s tired and stressed.”
Abbie pipes in. “Bullshit.”
“Abbie, you can’t comment. Boyfriends are different to one–night stands,” I mutter.
“Ok, agreed,” she nods.
I love Abbie, she’s a self–proclaimed sneaky slut. By sneaky slut I mean when we are out and having a great time dancing and drinking, she just disappears. Twenty minutes later we get a text telling us she’s gone home. She has a few boys in her kitty as she calls it. We know them as number one, first reserve, tall guy, hot guy, army guy and she has a tradie as well, although I don’t know what he does. Number one always has right of way if he’s out although I think army guy is rising through the ranks pretty quickly. Bridget and I know them all by sight but in all honesty have probably not spoken more than a dozen words to any of them. She likes it like this. We love her honesty and good on her if she can do it without guilt—why not? I could probably take a leaf out of her book and loosen the hell up.
“And,” Bridget continues, “he’s started to guard his phone.”
“Hmm, that’s not good.” We all silently sum up the situation.
“And get this, last week when I stayed at his house I was looking in his drawer and he has bought all new underwear.”
“Yeah, but maybe he just needed new undies.”
“No, they were nice like nice, nice not everyday undies.” We stay silent and sip our coffee as we listen. I purse my lips as I think. “And then there’s the manscaping.”
Abbie chokes on her coffee. “Manscape,” she blurts out.
“Yes, please stop laughing. This is not funny.” I want to laugh myself but instead I frown at Abbie, symbolizing for her to shut up. My ability to keep a straight face when I hear the ridiculous is an added benefit of my job. “Last time we were together I noticed he’s like…” she whispers and leans into the table, and we both lean in instinctively to listen. “You know, done some extreme grooming.”
Abbey narrows her eyes, “Did you ask him what that is about.”
“Yes, when I first noticed it he seemed embarrassed and then said he did it as a surprise for me.” “Do you think it was?”
“No, I don’t. And, get this, he’s clippered off his chest hair.”
“God,” I breathe and sit back. “I hate manscaping.”
“Why?” Abbie pulls a disgusted face. “There’s nothing worse than a hairy guy.”