Asking and telling

If you think I am (was) bad with the ladies, you should hear about Dom.

I have never met a more conscience-less, cold, disconnected person in my life, at least when it comes to relationships. He'll screw the hell out of some young hottie one night, tell her he loves her, then fuck someone else the next night, drilling the hell out of her as the first one calls him on his cell phone. He might get a good laugh out of it, but that's about it. He never feels guilty.

Dom says he's lost count, but he's been with at least 80 or 90 women. Back when I didn't know him very well, he claimed to have nailed THREE girls during one convention, which was three days. He's been truthful with me all along, as far as I know, so I think he's telling the truth. I have to admit, that is impressive.

I've seen Dom in action with girls. He has a way of looking at them, narrowing his eyes as they speak to him, as if they are saying something that is so interesting that he can hardly comprehend it. He'll say "really?" just when he should, or come up with a good joke at just the right time. As I've said, Dom hardly ever raises his voice, but he's somehow aggressive at the same time. He's not like me, asking a girl to go for a walk; he'll ask her to come home with him! And I've actually seen it work.

I don't know why Dom behaves this way. Maybe he's got some bizarre backstory like I do. I've never asked him about it. From time to time, he'll muse, "DAMN I love to fuck." Maybe he doesn't have issues; maybe he's just a horny bastard.

Dom and I have been hanging out a lot lately. All that competitiveness he had early on is gone. He's turned into a trusted associate. Yes, he works for me, but I don't like introducing anyone as "my employee"; it makes me sound imperious. I usually just say, "This is my associate, Dom." I think Dom appreciates it.

Every once in a while, Dom will open up about his brother or grandmother. He's very interested in my family, and always asks how my dad is doing without mom around. He asks about my neice, my brothers. He remembers things. I find myself saying, "Gee, isn't he a thoughtful guy?" It's flattering that he is interested in my life. And then it hits me: so this is how he does it. THAT is how he makes the girls feel like they are the only ones in the room. Yeah, I guess I do that too, to an extent.

Wednesday, December 15

I'm uneasy about tonight, because I think Dom might hook up with some one-nighter, and then I'll have information that Dom is cheating on Steph's best friend, and I'll be torn about whether or not to tell Steph. As far as I am concerned, it's don't ask, don't tell, but she probably will ask. Stephanie is no dummy, and she doesn't like Dom. She'll ask eventually.

Still, I really could use a little break, so I decide to go with Dom anyway.

We head over to a place called the East Side Brew House, a little gin mill that recently changed ownership. The place is tiny, and it's packed. The bartender scurries back and forth with a towel over his shoulder, mixing drinks and making change. The only hint of Christmas decor is a five-foot string of silver garland taped sloppily to the mirror over the bar.

The bartender knows Dom, and brings him a whiskey sour without asking. I order a Diet Coke, and Dom curls his lip at me. "Give him a Sam Adams Light," Dom says.

He turns to me. "It's a little place. We shouldn't sit at the bar if we're not drinking alcohol."

"That's you, Dom, the Emily Post of lotharios," I say.

An old neighbor of mine comes up to order a drink. We shake hands and exchange "Merry Christmas's", and he goes right into the story of his wife's cheating, and his, and their subsequent divorce.

It's a decent story. A half-hour passes. I turn around, and Dom is talking to a beautiful blonde. It's always blondes with Dom, always, always. That's when you know a guy is a successful womanizer: When he not only gets laid, but he does it with one specific kind of girl. Some guys are out there just taking whatever the hell they can get.

Any minute now, I figure Dom is going to come over and ask me to run interference for him by hitting on blondie's ugly friend. NO way I'm doing that tonight. It's bad enough I'm getting stuck in the middle between Meg and Stephanie. But he doesn't ask. It looks like she's alone, strangely enough.

My friend leaves, and I sip beer and watch ESPN on the 32-inch TV that's bolted to the ceiling. I'm getting bored. I wish I had my car. Why did I let Dom drive, again?

I feel a hand on my shoulder. "Steve, this is Andrea, Andrea, Steve, my boss."

"Hiyeeee!" she says. Jesus Christ. A total airhead.

We talk for a while. She is totally stupid, empty and vacuous, with not one single redeeming quality. Except a nice body. Every so often, her strapless silver dress slides down and I see a juicy chunk of boob before she pulls it back up. It's the only entertainment this girl's going to be tonight.

It's midnight. Andrea goes to the bathroom. I lean in to Dom. "You want me to take a cab, man?"

"What? No! No, Steve! Of course not! You come home with me!"

"OK. Do you have that CD I needed for my computer?"

"Yeah."

Andrea asked me all about work on the way to Dom's house. She was talking to me more than him, for God's sake. She is so annoying that I can hardly stand it: Her voice is high and whiny, and she talks too loud. I hope Dom has soundproof walls.

Dom's house. "Here's that CD," Dom says. I grab it. I can't wait to get the hell out of here.

Andrea chuckles and grabs Dom in a tight hug, kissing him passionately, their bodies superglued together. Dom leads her to the bedroom and closes the door.

It would've been nice if I didn't see anything, but I did.

If Steph asks me, I'm telling her.