The Bachelorette Party by Karen McCullah Lutz Page B

lucked out the day she sat next to him in Econ. People who meet their spouses in college should have to pay dues into a fund for the people who don’t.
    After dinner, Zadie and Dorian sat in the Adirondack chairs on the back porch, inhaling the night-blooming jasmine and finishing the wine while Dan bathed the kids. Zadie was always amazed that you could actually see the stars up here. At least a few. And the ocean in the distance.
    “I think you need to go on a date,” Dorian said.
    “And what exactly do you think that will accomplish?”
    “It’ll get you out of that fucking apartment, for one.”
    “It’s actually a non-fucking apartment at the moment. That’s part of the problem.” Zadie hadn’t been laid in seven months. She had wisely made Jack go without for two weeks before the wedding so that their honeymoon would seem special.
    “So fuck someone,” Dorian said.
    “I’ll get right on that.”
    “You’re a beautiful girl! All you have to do is walk into a bar and say yes.”
    “I think you’re overestimating my appeal.”
    Dorian refilled their glasses. “Bullshit. I bet half the boys in your class fantasize about you. That’s how Dan lost his virginity, you know. One of his high school teachers gave him detention and then had sex with him in the teachers’ lounge.”
    “Don’t tell me things like that.” Trevor, Trevor, Trevor. No. Absolutely not.
    “I’m not suggesting it, I’m merely pointing out that you’re still hot and you could get laid if you wanted to. Maybe you don’t really want to.”
    Zadie shrugged. “Maybe I don’t.”
    “Why the hell not?”
    A wet and naked Josh and Lissy came running up to the French doors, smooshing their noses against the glass.
    “Hi, Mommy!” They giggled and ran off as Dan chased them with a bath towel.
    Zadie lowered her voice. “I can’t talk about my need or lack thereof to fornicate when your kids are running around naked. It’s unseemly.”
    Dorian turned to look back into the house. “They can’t hear you.”
    “I just don’t know if dysfunctional sex is going to be the cure for my dysfunctional breakup.” Christ, she sounded like her therapist.
    “Who says it has to be dysfunctional sex?”
    “Well, since I’m not going to have sex with anyone that I’m currently acquainted with, it would have to be a stranger. And if it’s a stranger, I’ll have to go to his place, because I don’t want him at mine. And if I’m at his place, I’m going to be wondering if his sheets are clean, and if he was with someone else the night before, or that afternoon, and eventually, any positive benefits I’ve gotten from the sex will soon be replaced by a shame spiral that will crush me under the weight of knowing that I’ve just screwed someone I don’t even know.”
    “There’s a very simple solution to that. Sleep with someone you know.”
    “I realize I’ve been out of touch, but seriously, you’re blissfully unaware of the lack of men that populate my world.” Aside from Trevor, there wasn’t a single guy she could think of who was even remotely appealing. The maintenance-man fantasy was not a possibility. He and his Latina girlfriend lived in the building and she was not a chick whose man you wanted to steal. Her tires had spikes on them.
    “Fine. Don’t have sex. But at least go out on a date. You need to get back in there. Who was your last date with? Before you met Jack?”
    Zadie had to think about this one. She vaguely remembered someone named Bill who’d taken her to a Moroccan restaurant where the belly dancer had practically given him head. He’d then proceeded to flirt with the bespangled dancer while Zadie sat in silence and ate from a plate of food that resembled pita bread and mud. “No one I’d go out with now.”
    Dorian scrunched up her forehead. “Where’d you meet Jack again?”
    “He waited on me. No wonder I liked him. He brought me food. Just think of the pain I could’ve avoided if I didn’t