The Boyfriend Blog

“It’s the same as all the others. None of the guys are looking for an actual relationship, they just want to get laid.”

Clara shudders in her seat. “I read your last blog post. What is wrong with men these days?”

“Shhh.” I press my finger to my lips and look at the three ladies pointedly. “You promised not to tell anyone about the blog. It’s our little secret, remember?”

The Boyfriend Blog is four years old, and I’d been successful at keeping it top-secret until six months ago when my Senior Center pals invited me to their book club. I thought it was going to be a quiet night of talking about books, eating sweets, and drinking coffee, but boy was I wrong. These ladies whipped out Fifty Shades of Grey and handed me a beer. By the end of the night, I’d learned that these women have a more active sex life than I’ve ever had. That bit of info led to a slightly intoxicated self-pity party, which in turn led to me spilling the beans about the blog and my quest to find love.

It’s not a huge deal that they know because who are they going to tell? Aiden, maybe, but I think they know better than that. Not only did I swear them to secrecy, but I also threatened to quit driving them to the casino.

Edna smiles, and Betty pretends to lock her lips and throw away the key. “We’ll never mention it out loud again. Although, I don’t understand why it’s such a big secret.”

“It’s not really, it’s just…the blog is my outlet, you know? It’s my place to vent and complain and voice my wants, dreams, and expectations, and I really like that it’s just mine.”

Not even my twin sister knows about the blog.

I have two hundred and twenty thousand followers.

Two hundred and twenty thousand. That number still baffles me. Some of them have been around since day one, and others joined me along the way. We know each other by first name only, and I like it that way. They give me advice, and I dish it out in return from time to time, but what I like is that when I open my laptop and log into the blog, I can escape reality. Whether I write a five-minute post or spend two hours interacting with women going through the same shit I’m going through—it’s my outlet.

“I understand, dear. Say no more.” Betty pats my hand before reaching into the peanut bowl and scooping out a handful.

“But I really do appreciate that you guys are invested in my love life.”

“It isn’t exactly a love life,” Clara says. I purse my lips and give her a look. She simply smiles and counters back with, “When is your next date?”

“Tonight, with a guy I met on Mingle.”

“You know,” Clara says, pointing an arthritic finger at me. “You should go on a date with Aiden,” Betty says. “He’s so handsome.”

“And sweet. He comes over every week and helps me fill my medicine planner.” The pride in Edna’s voice and in her eyes makes my heart melt.

Two years ago, Aiden and I moved into the same apartment complex. We live two doors down from each other with sweet Edna nestled between us.

“He is pretty great, but we’re just friends.”

Best friends.

My eyes are drawn across the room toward the man, while the women around me chatter about how wonderful he is. Aiden is talking animatedly with a few older g

entlemen, and when Rich Tremont starts coughing, Aiden grabs a cup of water and hands it to him.

He waits patiently until he’s sure Rich is going to be fine before continuing the conversation. I smile. He’s always been sweet, that was never his problem. The problem is that he’s a ladies’ man and knows it. He’s looking for a good time. I’m a forever kind of girl, and he’s a Mr. Right Now kind of guy. It doesn’t matter how many times he asks me out, or how badly I want to say yes, Aiden and I are a bad idea on a good day—something I learned to accept a long time ago.Aiden glances to the side and catches my eye. He watches me for a few seconds, and then his brows pull in, and he mouths, you okay?

I nod, and he smiles my favorite smile. Not the smirk he uses when trying to pick up a girl, but a genuine, bright smile that reaches all the way to his eyes and makes everything in the world feel right again.

“You know,” Edna says, placing her wrinkled hand on mine. “Robert was my best friend before we got married.”

I pull my gaze from Aiden. “I don’t think you’ve ever told me that.”

She nods and reaches for her crochet hook. “He was. He asked me out every day for a year before I accepted.”

“What made you finally say yes?” Clara asks, stealing the question from my lips.

“He said, ‘please.’” Edna shrugs unapologetically. “I like a guy with manners.”

“That’s sweet. A little harsh that you made him wait a year and practically beg, but still sweet.” I smile wistfully, hoping that someday I’ll have a story like that to tell my family and friends.

Edna nods toward Aiden. “What would you say if he asked you out?”