Eddy & The Incel - Part 2
“Why do you think she’s divorced?”
Eddy sighed and took a sanity-saving sip of his mocha. “Because that ring on her other hand uses a setting that’s typical of engagement rings yet there’s no matching wedding band. I doubt she’s just moved it because she’s not left-handed. Plus her whole demeanor has the clipped, icy countenance of someone who’s been fighting a lot.”
“You fight a lot.”
“I know. That’s how I recognize it.” Eddy tapped his fan on the table, trying to drum out his impatience. People-gazing used to be a fun, solitary past time. Until apparently he had adopted a stray puppy.
Mark he reminded himself, with the detachment of someone reading a lost dog tag. He still refered to him as ‘boy’, ‘you’, or ‘child’, yet nothing seemed to deter him from showing up every Friday, sitting next to Eddy and routinely engaging him in conversation. He only looked at his phone maybe half the time now. It bothered Eddy a bit.
“She looks wealthy,” Mark commented, nodding in fake wisdom at the tall woman in dark heels and designer pants suit. “He probably left her because she worried too much about her career and he couldn’t take it.” He sipped his own coffee - not iced, anymore, but still loaded with sugar - and tried to copy Eddy’s people-watching air of superiority and apathy. Except his overeager, people-pleaser puppy vibes wrecked it.
Each week they had begun a strange, anthropological study of the local coffee shop patrons. Neither of them spoke to anyone besides the other, which was still one person more than Eddy wanted. Worse, Eddy had to admit lecturing his new social symbiote had a strangely satisfying effect, as he absorbed all of Eddy’s words like a sponge no matter how cutting they might have been. Not that he always agreed - often, he violently disagreed, launching a long tirade of verbal ranting that felt exhaustive and yet seemed to make the young man even more enamored with his company. Eddy decided Mark was secretly a masochist. Worse, Eddy knew he himself tended towards sadism of the verbal persuasion.
“It’s not nice to presume men don’t like powerful women,” Eddy snipped, although honestly Mark’s commentary had improved over the past month. Oh god...it’s been a month. “Where did you get that sweater?”
“Oh - do you like it? My grandma actually gave it to me last Christmas, and I found it in my closet.” Mark positively glowed under the spectre of Eddy’s approval. His clothing had evolved after Eddy had flat out refused to have his fashion levels lowered from sitting by a “rotating rack from Hot Topic”, as he’d said. After an awkward afternoon asking Eddy’s advice on a local Target clothing ad, he now wore dockers in alternating tan, grey, and soft brown along with v-cut sweater tops or button-downs that would look better with a bow-tie or a jacket, but Eddy wasn’t pushing it. He’d shut Mark down after he asked for tips on hair care, flatly stating “I am not Queer Eye. Go watch a YouTube video.”
“Your grandma’s vintage, you should wear what she says more often. Unless it’s homemade, then just hide it until she visits.” He sipped another shot of sanity. Lord, he needed it.
“The girls at school said I look better,” Mark said quietly, but his tone wasn’t the level of happiness it should have been at that remark. Fuck, why do I know that. Eddy bit his tongue.
“They’re not blind.”
“Why can’t women just tell you what looks good, you know?” Mark still had some issues to work through. Eddy could relate, but he couldn’t excuse it. The work had to be done.
“Do you tell women how you want them to dress?” Eddy asked, eyebrow raised in challenge.
“No, but I don’t care. If they care, then they should say something.”
The fan opened, a sign of a learning moment about to begin. Mark’s eyes grew bright with recognition and his phone went down to the table. Eddy waved his fan lazily. “Why do you think women care about clothing?”
“Um, because it shows how economically well-off a guy is?”
WHACK. “Nope. You can look good on a budget, that’s a false signal. Try again.”
“Um, because it shows a guy knows how to take care of himself?” This had been the main theme of their sessions. Self care. Mark seemed to be grasping at it, yet the mechanics still eluded him at times.
“Closer. But why do you think women dress up so much if guys don’t care what they wear?” Eddy waited patiently, keeping his mouth hidden now behind the fan. His fear was that Mark might one day catch a smile, or worse that he might actually make one.
The wheels in Mark’s head started to whirl. “Because...I don’t know, girls just like clothes more. Like, they have more options and they fuss about it more.”
The fan clicked shut. “Exactly. When a guy puts effort into dressing up, it shows he respects what they’ve been taught as a way of life. I would imagine a girl who showed a knowledge of whatever animated things you enjoy would similarly spark your interest, yes?”
“Oh yeah! Nerd girls are hot.” Mark agreed enthusiastically.
Another sip of sanity. Gods help me.
“I just don’t think it’s fair they judge me like that.” Mark’s anger bubbled up, still not subsided. If Eddy could siphon it off he probably would have been able to heat an entire espresso machine. “I mean, nobody’s asked me out yet.”
“Really? What are the current social norms for asking someone out again?” Eddy’s eyes twinkled as Mark’s face fell.
“The boy’s supposed to ask,” he muttered.
“And did you?”
“They don’t like me.” Mark’s happy demeanor crumbled back into his old depressed self.
“Is that all it takes to elicit you asking? If so, then wait until someone does.” Eddy sucked down the last dregs of his cup. It was nearly time to go.
“I’m almost 19! Nobody’s ever going to like me!” Mark suddenly yelled, his eyes growing dangerously watered.
“Why? Do you have some expiration date?”
“You wouldn’t understand. Girls don’t respect you if you haven’t gotten a girlfriend before. It’s like this dumb Catch 22.”
Eddy closed his eyes so they wouldn’t roll out. “First of all, do you even understand that reference? And secondly, why does your past dating resume mean anything? I’ve never slept with a woman before and I’m nearly 32. That doesn’t make me less of a catch.”
Mark’s ire turned puzzled and confused. “But...you don’t like women.”
“When did I say that?” The ice in Eddy’s voice chilled any ghost of warmth from Mark’s styrofoam cup. The chill quickly reset the younger man’s boiler point.
“Oh. I...I just assumed you were...because...” He looked up and down Eddy’s outfit, another loose blouse with a belted sash this time.
“What does ‘assuming’ do again?”
Mark sighed. “It makes an ass out of u and me.”
“Good boy. Now, again, just because I’m in mint condition does not mean a smart, discerning woman wouldn’t be lucky to have me as arm candy. Obviously I’m fabulous.” Eddy shook his bangles as he adjusted himself to sit taller. “And I’m not so stupid as to turn down a potential fine companion whether they’re female, male, or nonbinary. When I choose to date, it will be because I genuinely enjoy the other person and vice-versa, not just because I met someone else’s standards for dating. Relationships are two-way streets.”
“I just...I get lonely.”
Eddy sighed and rubbed his temples. “Lord, do I know it.”
“How do you get over that?” Mark looked at Eddy like he held some magic answers under his bravado and Prada glasses. Those eyes - so desperate the answer seemed futile - struck something in Eddy who suddenly had flashbacks to a childhood marred by bullies, lonely lunch breaks, and hiding inside on recess.
Oh hell no - we’re not going back to that.
The fan smacked Mark on the head this time. “Companionship isn’t only about sex, child. Learn to socialize more by practicing. Observing. Finding people. Otherwise get a cat and learn to live without.” Standing, he shook himself and his bangles and jewelry went tink tink to signal his exit. “Time for me to go home.”
Scrambling to his feet - a respectful gesture Eddy had taken three weeks to train Mark into - his coffee shop companion waved awkwardly. “Uh, see you next week?”
“Never bet on it,” Eddy turned his chin up, quickly masking himself with his fan.
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Except he showed up the next week, the following week, and the next three weeks after that.