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By Root 345 0

Sure, the curtains were drawn nearly all the way shut, but there was a two-foot opening that I was able to peer into. That was all I needed. I stared into that window for four solid hours looking for anything—a kiss, a hug, a caress—anything that would prove they were more than what they claimed to be. But I got nothing. Well, okay, not nothing. I saw Michelle walk by the curtain once, fully clothed, and about an hour later I saw Steve walk by, also fully clothed. Eventually I gave up and went down to a bar and got drunk with friends.

The next morning, I saw Michelle walk down the apartment stairs in the same outfit she’d been wearing the night before. She hopped on the back of Steve’s motorcycle, reached around his waist, and drove off down the street. Later that day, I called her and told her what I had seen.

“How many times do I have to tell you, we’re just friends!”

After that, I would see Michelle leaving Steve’s apartment in the morning on a pretty regular basis. And occasionally I would run into her at parties. I would always ask her what was going on with her and Steve. Her story never changed: she and Steve were just friends.

Eventually, I moved on to other failed relationships and forgot all about Michelle and Steve. I did, however, run into Michelle a year ago at a store in New York. She’s doing great: mother of three and happily married to . . . Steve.

There’s an old bit of kitchen wisdom that says you should always marry your best friend. Well, to this day, I can’t think of anyone who was a better friend to Michelle than good ol’ Steve.

Lesson#4

Persistence Is for Suckers

by David Wain

DECEMBER 3 — 11:45 a.m.

In my apartment, on my couch. I take a deep breath, dial Debra’s number, and press SEND. RING . . . RING . . . She answers.

DEBRA

Hello?

ME

Hey! It’s David Wain. I met you the other night at that party?

DEBRA

Uh-huh?

ME

You gave me your number, we talked about hanging out this week?

DEBRA

Okay . . .

ME

Remember I sat on the plate of cupcakes and had to take off my jeans? And we laughed, and then we made out?

DEBRA

Oh! Yes! Cupcake Guy! How are

you?

ME

Good, good. Jeans are washed now, so that’s over.

I start flipping channels on my TV while talking, hoping it will make my voice sound casual, like I don’t care too much.

ME (CONT’D)

So do you want to grab a drink sometime?

DEBRA

Sure, that’d be fun!

ME

How about tonight?

DEBRA

Perfect! Let me know.

ME

I’m letting you know now! Let’s go to Bar Six tonight for a drink, say at eight?

DEBRA

Cool! Leave me a message and we can figure it out.

ME

No need. Just meet me there at eight.

DEBRA

Great. Keep me posted.

I hang up, slightly confused. But psyched.

DECEMBER 5 — 2:11 p.m.

Walking down the street, casual gait, dialing phone.

DEBRA

Hello?

ME

Hey, it’s David Wain.

DEBRA

Hey, you! I thought we were gonna have a drink the other night.

ME

Yeah, you never showed up!

DEBRA

I never heard from you so I figured it wasn’t happening.

I do the old “hold the phone in front of my face and squint at it” bit.

ME

Well, hey . . . tonight I have a reservation at Joe’s Pub for this great jazz show, and we can have dinner there too.

DEBRA

Wow, that sounds really great. I’ll get dressed up!

ME

But they’ll give up our seats if we’re not there on time, so meet me out front no later than 7:45, okay?

DEBRA

I really look forward to this, David. See you at Joe’s Pub at 7:45.

DECEMBER 5 — 7:50 p.m.

Outside Joe’s pub. Freezing.

ME

Hi, Debra, it’s David. It’s ten to eight and I’m outside Joe’s Pub and you’re not here. I’ll try you at home, but I hope you’re on your way.

DECEMBER 5 — 7:52 p.m.

ME

Hey . . . David Wain. I left a message on your cell, thought I’d try you at home just in case. Call me, I’m at Joe’s Pub. Astor Place and Lafayette Street. Call me.

DECEMBER 5 — 8:06 p.m.

ME

Hey, so I’m going in. Tell the person at the door you’re with me and hopefully they’ll let you in. If you’re not coming, just let me know.

DECEMBER 6 — 11:19 a.m.

Groggy, in bed,