The BHN Files- 3.

3.

Jenae plopped herself down onto the curb as the world blurred in front of her eyes, rubbing the palms of her hands against the upper back of her head.

“Al! Al! I thinkI dranktmuch.”

“Probably. We had to cut you off. Just take a seat and take some big, deep breaths, ok? And next fucking time, JJ, no drinking contests with these guys. I’m gonna bring you a bottle of water.”

Shots were Jenae’s vice. She was not a big social drinker but when someone offered the challenge, especially a man, she was ready to step up to the plate. Now she hovered just in front of sleepy blackout. One of the PickupPals, Chris, staggered out of the pub.

“I gaveyoumnumber, right?,” he slurred.

Jenae frowned. She barely knew what was going on, but she frowned.

“Have I…have we talked?” At this point the fact that blackout had happened became a little clearer.

“Chris. I complimented your necklace,” he said, gently fingering the stone. At least he hadn’t touched her hair but at this point she was way, way too drunk to remotely care. Things didn’t seem to match up in Jenae’s memory.

“Oh. M, yeah. Let’s uh, lemme call you later” she slurred.

“I’m a busy guy, but I hope to hear from you.” He gave her a manly, cold pat on the back as he got up. Jenae faintly recalled something feeling like a robotic job interview rather than a prelude to a date or hookup. She cradled her head in her hands. She was not a drinker and had forgotten why she never really connected with the bar scene in the first place. A few more minutes rolled by. Allison came over.

“So, what do you think? Are they all evil?”

“This…thissza terrible time to ask me this, Al. No.”

It had become clear that they would need to discuss the fallout at a different time. At this point, all that Jenae could remember was a parade of people with unkempt beards and formulaic-sounding conversations with only minorly-objectionable personalities. But at this point it didn’t make any difference anyway.

“Can…cannyou walk me to the Metro station, Al?” Allison was planning to go home to Alex’s that night.

“Sure.”

“Thanks.” All Jenae wanted to do then was take a nap. Alex offered up a weak smile and a limp hug. 

“Thank you for joining us, Jenae. It was fun.” He seemed authentic but also stoned. City lights swizzled as they walked, one foot in front of the other, and the bar faded in the distance behind them. Jenae didn’t recall anything terribly insulting or awful occurring that night but then again she didn’t recall much of the order of events to begin with.

--

The evening hadn’t started out too roughly. Jenae had been introduced to about 8 different guys within this group. The core of it had seemed somewhat small, and much more diverse than she’d originally assumed. The bar’s supply of McGeorge whiskey was also plentiful, so she couldn’t go in being entirely grumpy at Allison. A number of chats ended up keeping her far more interested than expected at the time, though later the lines had seemed rehearsed and boring. At some point Allison took a smoke break and the two made it outside away from the group.

“So.” said Allison, as she lit up.

Jenae fanned the smoke away. “You haven’t discovered vaping yet?”

“This is a smoking patio and I’m lazy.”

She moved on quickly. "I think it’s not so bad. The guys aren’t so awful. They’re kinda big nerds, like us. Mostly. I mean I hear that’s what the point of the whole PickupPals ethic is, right? That these guys aren’t the major alpha bros.”

“Ugh, bros,” groaned Allison. “Well, you know I’d never end up with one. But you know, women like to be told what to do and all that crap.”

Jenae chuckled. “We’re so bitter. And you’re not even the single one!”

“Look, I got real lucky with Chris. But you know you wouldn’t find me hanging with guys putting on an act like this.”

“I guess I’ll have to see more what they’re about, Al. I mean, I dunno.”

“Have you read The Method yet?”

“No.”

“I got it on my reader, you can totally borrow it. But I’m warning you, it’s gonna make you hate guys for a while.”

While a dedicated feminist, Jenae couldn’t imagine loathing men. The little she remembered of her brother she cherished, and always went through life with many close male friends, including her beloved Jesse and Kevin from work with whom she couldn’t get too close to but was always good for a laugh, a geek-out on the latest issue of Firebird’s Revenge and an infrequent but usually much-needed hit of weed.

“Alright. I guess now that we’ve met these folks it’s time to face the shitty truth. Hit me up tomorrow with it.”