Does This Boyfriend Make My Butt Look Big? by Jenna McCarthy

Author:Jenna McCarthy [McCarthy, Jenna]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: She Writes Press
Published: 2014-02-25T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 9

When Michael closes the door I quickly peek into his bedroom. You know, to make sure there are no chain saws or stray body parts. The first thing I notice is that that he is very neat and even makes his bed. The only other furniture in there is a big, mahogany armoire—perfect for stashing chain saws and body parts, but I’m not about to check—and a desk with a typewriter on it. A typewriter!

The bathroom is your basic bathroom, but I notice that there’s a candle on the back of the toilet. There’s also a rug that matches the neatly folded towels that match the shower curtain (which I do check behind, even though my editor cut “always check for murderers behind the shower curtain” from my “Lessons from the Big Screen” story). What single man has matching towels? A woman’s been here, I think. Evidently.

The living room is small but cozy, with a soft, brown saddle-leather sofa that has a rich, masculine smell. I peruse the pictures on the bookshelves—lots of active group shots, skiing, hiking, one island-looking beach—no kids, no discernible female common denominator or woman-alone pictures. I do this because I’m a journalist, not because I’m interested or anything.

The coffee table has three orderly stacks of magazines, which I flip through Sherlock Holmes–style. The Atlantic Monthly. Highbrow. Money. Ambitious. Cigar Aficionado. Sexy. The New Yorker. All of the above. There are no computer, car, fishing, gay, or girlie magazines in the lot. Of course, they’re probably hidden in a drawer or under the bed—with the ropes and gags—but I appreciate the fact that they’re not out in plain sight. I hear the key in the door, grab the Atlantic, and pretend to be reading.

“Oh, hey,” I say casually, looking up with mild surprise. Like, I didn’t expect you.

Michael gives me a little wink and heads toward the kitchen with two enormous bags. What on earth did he buy? I hope it’s not a ski mask and duct tape, although if it is, I suppose I’ve asked for it.

“Can I help you?” I ask, following him mostly so that I can see what he’s got going on in there. It really is better to be prepared for these things. I spot a pen on a side table and grab it on my way in. In “How to Defend Yourself in a Surprise Attack,” we explained exactly how to jab a pen into someone’s trachea if you need to do serious damage.

Michael holds up a bag of Doritos. “For Max,” he says. Then he unpacks four different kinds of Ben & Jerry’s. “They were out of Cherry Garcia,” he explains, “and I don’t yet know your other likes.” Don’t yet know. I survey the lineup: Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough, Phish Food, Ooey Gooey Cake (frozen yogurt, not ice cream), and one I’ve never tried (!) called 2-Twisted Half Baked.

“I didn’t know if you were one of those women who fret about foods of a potentially fattening nature,

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