The Rejoicing Hen – 6

[OCTOBER 5, 1990 – Friday, 6:45 pm] 

Derek

            I hung up the phone and dashed into my bedroom.  I pulled out six different shirts and four pairs of jeans.  What should I wear? Should I bring a bottle of wine? Would that seem too much like a date? Was the handsome redheaded Peter thinking this was going to be just two guys hanging out and having pizza? Should I bring a six pack of beer? Is that what guys did who were just friends hanging out?

But I don’t have any beer; I don’t drink beer. 

I dropped the clothes I’d been comparing and darted into the bathroom. 

No time for a shower; how do I look? More important, how do I smell?

I quickly added some deodorant and brushed my teeth.  I ran my fingers through my wavy dark hair, added a bit of gel to keep the waves in place, then dashed back into the bedroom to dress. 

Maybe I should bring beer.

I compared the worn blue jeans with the dark khakis; I could stop somewhere they sell beer.  A glance at the clock forced me to decide on the fly.  I dressed, slipped a pair of loafers onto my bare feet, grabbed a bottle of red wine from the fridge and my jacket from the hook by the door, and was on my way to Peter’s apartment with six minutes to spare.