“I’m fine with friends first, but friends only and forever is a little limiting,” I told her.

She said, “I would hope that we could be friends forever, even if it turned into more than friendship. Why can’t a woman be friends with a man she’s involved with? I mean, is that a crime or something? Why do so many guys fight that idea?”

I asked her, “Is that how you’re looking for your next man?”

“As a matter fact, it is. And if a guy can’t be friends with me first, well then…”

I said, “But just because a guy says okay to that, that doesn’t mean he’s gonna automatically move past friendship, right?”

“No, it doesn’t.”

“Okay, well, I’ll think about it then.”

She was hesitant to leave. I think I caught her off-guard with my response to her. But if I had to wait to be more than friends, then she had to wait to be friends.

I said, “Okay, well, my mother has your information, right? I’ll just have to get it from her then. If I’m serious, right?” I asked her.

Geneva nodded and decided to move on. “Yeah.”

When she drove off, I returned to the porch.

My mother asked me, “So, what do you think about her? I know you’re attracted to the girl because you kept talking that filthy talk, but what do you think about her in a relationship?”

I stopped and thought about it. I really couldn’t read the girl. I would have to be around her more and in a different setting.

I said, “I don’t know yet. I mean, she could be the real thing, and then again, she could just be faking.”

My mother said, “She is the real thing. She’s a good girl. I can tell what’s what. So you need to really think about her. She’s gonna be making her own money, too.”

I wasn’t thinking about her money. I rarely thought about that from a woman. I always had my own solid income. But I was thinking about whether she had any freak in her body or not.

I know one thing’s for sure, I told myself, I don’t want boring sex for the rest of my life. So if a woman’s not willing to let me test the goods beforehand, then all bets are off.

“So, how long are you gonna stay in Indiana?” my mother asked me.

“Just for a day or two,” I answered. “I have to get back to Atlanta before the weekend. I’m running out of clean clothes. I’ve been in Chicago and out in L.A. since last Thursday night.”

My mother frowned and said, “You could just go buy some new clothes then. Go spend a hundred dollars at Wal-Mart.”

I ignored her. “Mom, I need to borrow your car tonight.”

“Where are you going?”

“I bumped into some old friends earlier. They want to shoot some pool and drink a few beers downtown,” I lied to my mother. She didn’t really want to know where I was going.