At the risk of sucking the romance from BP?s fuzzy peach of a love story...

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Mr. Right and I go back a long way, having met in our sophomore year of college, so when he extended an invitation to his folks? house on the lake for a Saturday night party- particularly when he mentioned the possibility of some single women being in attendance- I put it squarely on the back burner. It sounded like fun, but I could also envision a bunch of Mr. R?s pencil-necked law school buddies trying to flex their cranial muscles for a giggling gaggle of preppy chicks fresh from the pages of a Laura Ashley catalog. You never know how these things are going to go.

Besides, at that particular time, I was pretty much checked out, socially. I was only just getting clear of the effects of a breakup with a previous significant other. I had GIVEN UP on dating, having been out with all of the available women in my small town, with comical and often depressing results. I was focused on work, having bought a couple of fixer-upper apartments with a buddy named Jimmy with whom I shared an appreciation of: 1) dreams of real estate magnate-hood; 2) joints; and 3) tequila and beer.

Besides, I was dragging this dirty cast around on my arm, and was of the opinion that neither the cast nor the story of how it got there were the kind of things that tended to attract hot prospects of the opposite sex. (little did I know..)

On that particular Saturday, Jimmy and I had spent a long day stripping siding of off one of our apartment units. After work, we grabbed a 6-pack and went for a late season boat ride on the lake. We wound up leaving the boat at the town docks and walking across the street to one of the local taverns. After several Margaritas, when Kristin the barmaid asked us ?You?re not driving, are you guys?? Jimmy?s head snapped up from where it had been resting on the bar. ?No way, Kris? he said, ?We?re boating!? I suggested maybe it was time we moved on. I mentioned the party invitation, and Jimmy said sure, what the hell, let?s go.

So we found our way back to my house, picked up the truck and the dog, and headed over to the lake house where the party was sure to be in full swing. It was, but it really wasn?t so much a party as a ?Big Chill?-sized gathering of friends, maybe 12 or 15 people at the most. Besides Mr. Right and his girlfriend, I didn?t know a soul. A quick inspection of the living room revealed several small groups, talking and sipping beers. A heavyset, short-haired blonde woman sat alone on the couch on one side of the room. In the other corner, there was good-looking dark haired woman seated in a big wing-backed chair holding court as 3-4 guys all swooned around her. One guy was actually squatting on his knees in front of her chair, all animated and eyes-on like a good little lap dog. Jesus. Looks like the single women are going to be busy tonight, and I was in no mood to join a contest. Might as well punt- take a piss, get a beer, find Jimmy, roll another doob.

After making the rounds, I ended up seated on the couch next to Blondie. We made some small talk. She seemed vaguely familiar- I thought we might have crossed paths back in our high school or college days- but we couldn?t place it. I found myself continually glancing back to the other corner of the room, where Dark Hair- let?s call her BP- was still busy with a bevy of suitors. She was definitely hot, with a great smile, and I could eavesdrop enough on the conversation to deduce that she was bright as hell ? a good thing, BTW- but she also had this hip urban quality, all slinky, dressed in black, talking travel and culture, that made me wonder about our compatibility. I generally went for the more natural, bread baking, earth mother hippie-chick types. One thing for sure, though- there was clearly no way I was going to get a word in edgewise, so as the night wore on I gave up the idea of making any kind of advance. It was probably a good thing, anyway. Let?s face it- by that point I was pretty well hammered.

Someone did have a guitar, and I managed to get my fingers free of the cast enough to mangle ?Don?t Think Twice, it?s All Right?. People were starting to drift off to bed. Jimmy had disappeared, probably passed out somewhere. Suddenly, before I could prepare, she was there, standing by the side of the couch, actually talking to me. ?How did you hurt your arm?? she asked. I didn?t have time (or the mental capacity) to weigh all the possible responses. It just kind of came out, automatically ?I?m so tired of people asking me that.? I answered.

?Oh, okay? she says ?Good night.? And she?s gone- up the stairs.

?Nice move dude,? I thought to myself ?Way to go. Very swift.?

There was no point in hanging around. The night was clearly over. Whatever chances had come my way, I had bungled- a not-so-infrequent occurrence during my single life. I said my goodbyes, gathered up my friend, my things, and Jack the dog, and we headed home in the trusty pickup truck.

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