I’ve gone over every single excuse in the biggest book of excuses to get out of this damn date and not one has proven to satisfy my wicked best friend. The pukes and shits were solid until she texted back, “Prove it.”

“Dammit, Pedro.” I chase after my little Yorkie, who has his teeth sunk into my favorite lace bra. It’s the one that makes me feel sexy, even though I have no one to feel sexy for.

“You damn dog.” I bend over and swoop him up into my arms and just like all of the other times, he nuzzles into my neck and melts my heart. Pedro is the worst behaved dog in the world, but he’s just so damn cute. Scout teases me that it sounds like I have a sweatshop in my house because every time she walks up the steps all she hears is a crazy lady screaming out the name Pedro.

I plop down on the couch and begin to brush his hair and daydream. Oh, I’ve been daydreaming since the second Officer Ladykiller stepped out of my classroom. He invades my sleep, waking me with my own loud moans. I’ve scoured Facebook and all other social media sites to stalk him. And there’s been no such luck. Maybe I got his last name wrong.

If I had balls, I’d just march right down to the station, find him, and then ask him out on a date. As awkward as it would be, I totally would if my lady nuts were intact. Instead I’m brushing Pedro, avoiding getting ready for yet another tragic blind date.

The relationship gods thrive on torturing me. I’ve been through it all. The hot quarterback in college who had the same IQ as a piece of wood, the nice guy who admitted on our first date that he still drinks his mother’s breast milk; yep she’s been pumping her titties for years to nourish him, oh and my favorite, the sexy geek who when talked about baby kittens, his loose khakis tented right over thy wiener region.

Vomit threatens to spill out just thinking of the top three worst blind dates and I’m just naming the winners, not all of them. It seems all the handsome, normal, nice guys just want to be friends, hang out, and talk shop to my dad about mechanics and restoring old cars. I’m doomed; I’m pretty sure an evil sex witch cursed my mother’s ovaries, never giving me a chance at a normal life.

My cellphone goes off, distracting me from the thoughts of an evil sex witch and butt pirates set out to destroy the universe. My dad’s name lights up my phone, making me smile.

“Hey Pops.”

“Whatcha doing, firecracker?”

“Just sitting on the couch and brushing Pedro.” I cringe just hearing how awkwardly of a nerd I am.

“Nice.”

“And you?” I ask him.

“Working late tonight. Business has been good. I picked up another big contract with a local taxi service to keep their cars going.”

“That’s great Dad.” I push Pedro to the side, curling up into a comfortable pretzel on the couch. “You know you’re going to have to slow down at some point though.”

He chuckles lightly into the phone. “Well, my plan was always for my son to take over the business.”

“Well, you’re shit out of luck, Pops.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way, Olivia, and you know that.”

“Dad.” I pause, not knowing how or how far to go with this.

“Yeah?” I hear papers shuffling on his end of the line and know I’m starting to lose his full-attention.

“I have another blind date tonight.”

“Why do you keep punishing yourself with those? A nice young man will come along.”

“And if he doesn’t?” I counter.

“Look at your mom and me. She was a mail order bride and me just a kid trying to start his own business, too worried about work to date. We fell in love and had you. Love stories don’t all happen the same way, Firecracker, give it time.”

A laugh escapes me. “Yeah, true.”

My elbow is suddenly being attacked by a very horny Yorkie, “Pedro, knock it off.”

I do my best to swat him off without hurting him, but his pelvis is in full humping speed, taking it to my elbow.

“Pedro humping your elbow again?” Dad asks and even though we aren’t face to face, I can hear the smile sitting on his face.

“Little fucker, yeah he has a real problem humping elbows. He humps nothing else.”

“Olivia, you always make me smile, even in the darkest of moments. Be safe on your date and don’t give up on love.”

“Dad, will you order me a mail order groom if everything falls through?”

“Jesus, Olivia you’re a nut and I love you. Talk to you later.”

“Hey Dad, why did you call?”

“Just to hear your voice.”

I shrug my shoulders and stick my tongue out to Pervy Pedro. “I love you, too, Pops. Bye.”

He hangs up his end of the phone. My dad never says bye to anyone on the phone, claiming he’s not going anywhere. It used to piss me off, but now I know it’s just one of his little quirks.

I drag my ass off the couch, snag a rawhide for Pedro, and then make my way to my bathroom to get ready for the big night. Pedro lies at my feet, gnawing on his rawhide and growling at my pink toes when I wiggle them in his direction.

I decided on my long hair being left down in loose curls, light make-up, and something not too teachery, which is hard when digging in my damn closet. Finally, I find a cute pair of skinny jeans, white lace blouse, and a black leather jacket to wear. At least this cute and somewhat sexy outfit will shut Scout up. Even feeling a bit adventurous, I slip into some high wedges that allow my hot pink toes to peek out.

Now time to wait and you guessed it, my thoughts flow to Officer Oren. As cheesy as it may sound, his looks should be illegal. That strong jaw line, dark brown eyes, and perfectly trimmed hair nearly melted me that day, but it was something else about him. He was nice and down to earth, answering all the questions for the students with thought and care. He was humble. And one thing I’ve learned is most guys with killer looks like his aren’t humble or nice, but rather self-absorbed pricks.

A pounding on my door causes me to scream and trip over one of my high wedges sailing straight into the floor and I’m sent right back to reality.

“Jesus, O, you dry humping the floor?”

I glance up to Scout, Taylor, and my date staring down at me.

I force myself up on my feet, shaky a bit, but trying to act confident, swooshing my long locks over my shoulder. “I fell.”

I grit out the two words between my locked jaw and fake smile. Then enters Pedro into the crime scene of blind date gone wrong. He belts out a combination of yips and growls, baring his teeth at the new company and then very gracefully lifts his leg to pee.

“Pedro,” I scream bolting forward and once again tripping on my sexy wedges, which are now more like suicide shoes. It’s too late as I land in a bit of Pedro’s piddle at the feet of my date. Scout’s howling laughter deafens me.

Sitting back up on my knees, “I’m so sorry.”

Taylor’s handsome cousin waves me off with a cute smile. “I’ll consider it a warm welcome.”

“The little Satan pisses on all new visitors.” Taylor pats his cousin’s shoulder.

“God, that dog is possessed.” Scout begins wiping her tears from her face. “But you falling at your date’s feet in a puddle of piss takes the cherry.”

I shoot Scout the “I’ll slit your fucking throat” stare to shut her up and then very carefully and with my best grace, I stand to my feet.

“Connor, this is Olivia and Olivia this is Connor,” Taylor announces.

I go to stick my hand out but think better of it. “Just let me wash my hands real quick and snag you a paper towel for your boot.”

Scout is on my heels as I jog towards my small kitchen. Then I’m reminded of the murder weapons that are on my feet and I slow my pace.

“Olivia, we could’ve won freaking America’s Funniest Home Videos with that introduction.”

“Shut it.” I turn to her and threaten to smear my piss-covered hands over her face.

She throws up her hands in surrender but doesn’t stop her fit of giggles.

“It doesn’t get worse than that, does it?” I ask, while soaping up my hands.

“He’s cute though, right?” Scout waits on pins and needles for my answer.

“He’s really handsome,” I admit. “So, what’s the catch?”

“He may come with a teeny bit of baggage.” Scout talks with her hands and I know it’s her tell-tell sign that there’s more than a teeny bit of baggage.

“Spill,” I demand and then flick the dripping water from my fingers into her face.

“His fiancé left him at the altar last month.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” I whisper scream.

“She was a bitch and Taylor’s worried about him. He thinks you two could be really good friends and eventually a couple.”

“So, I’m the rebound girl?”

“Oh no.” She waves me off. “He’s screwing the countryside and that’s why Taylor is worried about him.”

“This little bit of 411 would’ve been nice to know before.” I poke her in the chest.

“C’mon, O, just give it a shot.”

“Well, what choice do I have now?” I rip several sheets of paper towels and walk back to the living room, trying to ignore Scout’s pleas as she chases me.

“Here.” I hand them to Connor. “Again, I’m so sorry.”

“No worries.” He shoots me a smile and bends over to dry off his boots.

I’ll give it to Scout that he’s super handsome with his sandy blonde hair, bronzed skin, and killer lean body.

“Just give it a shot,” she whispers as we leave my apartment.

I do the only thing a common sensed girl would do and that’s sending an elbow to my best friend’s gut. Her moan of pain makes me smile. When the spring air assaults my face, I make a promise to myself to go into this date with an open mind.

“I hear you teach first grade,” Connor adds as he scoots into the back seat of Taylor’s fancy ass truck.

I nod and swallow my pride, steadying myself to engage in mind numbing conversation that has to take place in order to meet someone new.

“I am and what do you do?” I smile and make eye contact with his dazzling blue eyes.

“I’m a defense lawyer.” He shrugs. “Leaves little time for a social life.”

“Oh wow, that’s fancy. I get the whole social life thing. I’m usually knee deep in the alphabet.”

His easy-going chuckle settles a bit of my nerves but I can’t erase the image of this handsome cat being ditched at the altar.

Scout and Taylor fight over what radio station to listen to and then move onto what restaurant we are going to eat at. Apparently Scout wants Italian and Taylor Mexican; with their raised voices it’s hard to ignore.

“Is this what the couple life is?” I ask Connor, turning to him with a goofy smile.

“I guess.”

I’m grateful when Connor goes on about his job and the different trials he’s been involved in. He’s only on his third one and seems a bit intense.

“I just get to deal with boogers and tears on my end.”

“Yeah, but when they grow up, I’ll be the one’s defending their asses.”

“Hey, they’re not all bad.”

“No, I agree.” He turns to me, reaching for my hand. “But some are job security for me.”

I force myself not to flinch when he clutches my hand. His palm is clammy and it feels awkwardly weird and a bit aggressive to be clutching onto me so soon. I try to determine if I can muster up a sneeze or a cough to get my hand back. But my luck, I’d probably pull a duo and fart at the same time.

“We’re here,” Scout chimes proudly from the front seat. “The best pasta in town.”

“Guess we know who wears the pants in this relationship.” Connor laughs at his own joke, but Taylor is quick to retaliate.

“I’m a smart man. I make her happy and I get puss later on tonight.”

I cringe at the vulgarity of it. It’s different when it’s Scout and I bantering back and forth but when he’s in the mix, it’s just weird. But it’s comments like those that my horndog best friend loves and thrives on.

“You bet you will, cowboy.” She saddles right up to him, patting his chest. It’s like he’s her dog and sex is the proverbial bone.

Connor once again grabs my hand as we walk in. I’ll give it to him, his hand grabbing game is on point. I can only focus on how odd and fishy his hand feels in mine. Scout is quick on shooting me a wink and waggling her eyebrows when she spots our two connected hands, but I just feel like a little school girl who is in trouble and being led down to the principal’s office for a spanking.

We’re seated at a cozy corner booth. Keyword cozy because there’s no way to wiggle over to my personal bubble. Connor is on me like glue and after we place our order, he’s practically dry humping my side. After continuous moments of him petting my hair and massaging my shoulder, I excuse myself to use the restroom.

Staring straight at my reflection in the mirror, I officially know this date is over and there will be no second date. I’m also chalking up the fact that blind dates will no longer ever happen in Olivia Olander’s life. I’m calling my dad as soon as I get home and having him order me a mail order groom. I’ll pick his looks and learn to live with him.

Quickly and with nimble fingers, I side braid my hair so Captain Grabby Hands can no longer molest my hair and then add a light layer of lip gloss to make me feel pretty. My heart stings a bit because Connor is gorgeous, just too damn quick on the trigger. Maybe there’s more to the story of his fiancé leaving him?

I’ll solve worldly problems another night because right now I have to stomach my way through this date. Connor is beaming up at me, patting my seat next to him when I get back. Our piping plates of pasta are laid out on the table. Scout is already in the process of making love to hers and from her erotic moans, I’d bet she’s having an O right now before Taylor even gets his hands on her.

“More wine?” Connor smiles, filling my wine glass up for the third time tonight. Thank God that he’s so creepy and has kept my impending buzz from impairing my judgment.

“I’ll just have water, thanks.” I try to wave him off but he just keeps on a pouring.

Swirling a massive forkful of angel hair pasta covered in a creamy alfredo garlic sauce, I stuff it in my mouth and then feel his lips press to my temple. The action, more abrasive than I expected, causes me to inhale the damn bit down my windpipe. The pasta leaves burns behind my throat as I try to choke it down.

I place the white cloth napkin in front of my mouth to mask the coughs and coax the pasta to go down. My stomach cramps up, knowing it should expel whatever has me choking so badly.

I hear Scout’s voice. “She’ll never be a swallower that girl, but seriously lay off Connor. I think you’re making her uncomfortable.”

And now I wish I was dead and six feet under. My best friend sticking up for me because I’m too big of wuss to do so. Connor nods and then I catch his gaze go to the other side of the restaurant, where’s it been most of the night. Maybe he’s eyeing his next catch. I mean, Scout had said he’d been busy fucking the countryside.

Why can’t I just let him give me my first O and then shut the door on the topic? I know why; because I believe in love and see it on my parents’ mantle in their wedding picture every time I’m at their house. My dad beaming proud and my mom with big doey eyes that look like she’s afraid for her life. They grew together, the pictures morphed into happiness, love and joy. That’s what I want and there lies the whole problem, because I live in a pit stop of a fuck and go society.

Connor finishes his meal quickly, still eying the table and miraculously my appetite has disappeared so I make different alphabet combinations with my noodles, dragging my fork slowly through the bowl.

And then like a deadly snake seeking its prey, Connor’s arm is right back around my shoulder and then it all happens so fast. I hear Scout begin to scold him when I turn to Connor to ask him to remove his arm because he’s making me extremely uncomfortable.

But when I turn to him, he seals his lips to mine and begins hoovering the shit out of my lips. The man has more suction than a vacuum.

“You bastard.”

And it’s like magic when the new voice joins us because his lip suction vanishes.

“Reba, nice to see you here,” he says in a cheery voice.

“Found another whore, I see?”

The beautiful blonde with legs for days plants her hands on her hips.

“Have you fucked her best friend yet?”

“Oh Reba, still digging up bones are we? Guess you’re beginning to miss what you left on your wedding day.”

My head swivels back and forth between the two, aligning all the puzzle pieces. It’s his ex-fiancé and that’s why he’d been eyeing that table all night and more than likely a bit too grabby for my taste. I was the asshole’s pawn.

“Well, payback is a bitch. I fucked your best friend, Scott, last week. His new nickname is Seis because I had six orgasms in sixty minutes.”

Their war is clear as day, but what’s a muffle is Scout shouting in the background for them to knock it off. At one point, she’s pawing her way across the table towards the blonde before Taylor drags her back. Her right tit slipped from her extreme V-neck, dipping into her spaghetti sauce.

This has to be one very deranged and fucked up dream right now.

“Your Aunt Georgia was a better lay than you Reba, so carry on.”

I look down to my plate of pasta, lost in a hopeless situation and stare at the “ch” digraph I drew with my fork. It’s the next lesson for my first graders. The letters soon become a blur when Reba picks up the bowl of pasta, hoists behind her shoulder, and aims for Connor. And being the gentlemen he is, he swiftly ducks behind me, using me as his shield against the bowl of fucking pasta.

The letters c and h are now scattered all over my face, hair, and chest. Drops of pasta sauce and noodles snake down my cleavage and eventually drippings even cover my pretty pink toes.

“Fuck you and your pathetic life, Connor.” From the sounds of heels clicking, Reba parades off.

I try to wipe the sauce from my eyes without getting it directly onto my pupil. Scout is attacking Connor as wait staff bring over mounds of cloth napkins.

“Stop,” I sputter out with noodles dangling from my lips. “Just fucking stop.”

I stand to my feet and realize I’m going to have to fucking skate out on my wedges under the sauce.

“This date is over.”

“Olivia, sit down. We will take you home,” Scout protests.

I count to ten in English, Spanish, and German to calm down before speaking and raising both of my hands.

“Goodnight. I’ll catch an Uber home.” I gracefully glide my wedge across the floor in a skating action because if I take a step, I’ll eat shit. “Oh and Connor, you seem like a great guy, but get some damn counseling before you and Reba kill each other.”

I silently thank my mother for enrolling me in ice-skating when I was five because I glide out of that Italian restaurant like a mother-trucking gold medalist. I shred the lace blouse and toss it in the nearest trashcan. But before I toss it, I use it to wipe down my limbs and face. It makes me sad to leave it behind since it was one of the sexiest things I had owned. It just bit the dust in the name of angry lovers.

I’m left in saucy skinny jeans and a tank top with nipples standing to attention in the night air. I perform a skating, walking duo combination that would even make Michelle Kwan proud to get at least a block away from the restaurant and then decide walking four more down to the center of town, knowing more Ubers will be available there. Knowing Scout, she’ll beat Connor’s ass and then come save me, but I just want to be left alone.

I pull my cellphone from my bag and notice the lit up red battery light with the notification of four percent battery life. Well, fuck me running into next Tuesday. I tap the Uber app as fast as possible and wait for it to connect me to a driver. A sigh of relief escapes when it shows at least ten cars surrounding me and only blocks away. I tap the green request button and everything goes black. My phone dies and I go bat shit crazy for a moment.

“You rotten damn asshole.” I throw the phone without thinking into a brick building and watch it shatter into several tiny pieces into a bush. And if that’s not good enough, I begin beating the shit out of the bush with my purse. Using it like an ax and mutilating it to shreds or at least that’s what I feel like I’m doing. And if there were any homeless bums or bystanders standing on the lit up sidewalk, they’ve vanished.

A quick burst of red and blue lights light up the bush I’m currently going to town on and I freeze.

“Ma’am, are you okay?”

I’d recognize that rich sexy voice anywhere and now I want to jump into the fucking bush.

I pivot slowly, albeit a bit sexy, to cover up; shit, at this point I have no idea what I’m covering up.

“Hi.” I wave and smile at Officer Oren.

“Olivia, is that you?”

I nod sheepishly while studying my alfredo covered toenails.

“Are you sure you're okay?” His voice is full of genuine concern.

“I’m fine, really; thanks for checking though.” I send a chunk of my matted hair over my shoulder and hear some of the sauce splatter on the ground.

He holds both hands up in surrender. “Now, I’m not judging here or anything, but you were just karate chopping the shit out of that bush with your purse.”

My shoulders slump down and I finally give in. “Blind date gone horribly wrong and my phone just died and I lost my lid.”

“Are you carrying any weapons?” he asks next.

I shake my head side to side. “Just my purse.”

“Okay then, I’ll approach.” He still has his hands up in the air but now a sexy smile spreads across his face.

I can’t help but giggle.

“I must have looked pretty crazy, eh?”

He’s only a foot from me and I can smell his musky cologne. “I almost called back up. I’m not going to lie.”

This statement causes a full out belly laugh.

“And this?” he asks plucking a noodle from my shoulder.

I go to open my mouth, but he stops me before I can explain.

“But wait, if it’s a crime you probably shouldn’t tell me.”

“Funny.” I playfully whack his shoulder and damn, it’s nothing but hard muscle. “You wouldn’t believe it anyway.”

“Try me.” I watch as he bends over, collecting the contents from my purse scattered on the sidewalk. When he leans over the bush, I can’t help but stare at his tight ass as it flexes when he moves.

“Are you staring at my ass?” His voice streams through the bushes.

I choke on my own spit.

“I’m just fooling with you, Olivia.” He stands up with a handful of items, one being my cellphone or what is left of it. “You weren’t joking when you said it was dead.”

“I may have murdered it.”

“I’ll take you home. Get in.”

“Do I have to ride in the back seat or get cuffed?”

“Do you want to be cuffed?” He raises an eyebrow at me and I feel the alfredo sauce heat up on my skin.

Instead of answering him, I crawl in the front seat, being careful not to smear my dinner on his leather seat. The smell of Oren is so strong in the cab I nearly weep.