Buzzfeed, Boys, Black Magic

dad material late-night philosophy

"A Mike's for the Mike," Abby handed a bottle of hard lemonade to Mike, who sat across the living room from me. I had been to Mike's dad material pool house once before, but this was first time I had really seen the interior of it. His couch wasn't from IKEA. There was a Sherpa throw blanket draped over the side. The vibe was comfortable, but masculine. He probably knew how to mix drinks and owned a fitted suit and a well-stocked fridge. He could marinade and grill a good steak. Mike was a real, adult man. And somehow he was perfectly okay with me lying prone on his couch, despair gnawing up my insides.

Mike lounged on his loveseat with the satisfied confidence of someone who purchased all his belongings with his own money. He looked like lion.

"and a Minute Maid for the weak-stomached lightweight," Abby rolled a bottle of soft lemonade down the coffee table to me.

She slouched down on the loveseat beside Mike and took a long sip of her gin.

"Thirsty tonight?" Mike mused.

"I worked four days in a row," Abby said, "I need this."

Mike smirked. Abby didn't.

"Ok, you know what? What I really need," she said, "is a new job."

"You've been at St. Elizabeth for, what, 4 months?" Mike asked.

"I don't think I'm cut out for nursing," Abby nodded. "I'm too much of an asshole. I felt like punching half of my patients yesterday."

"If I were you, I would stick it out till your contract's up," Mike said. "Then, I'd switch gears into nursing informatics."

"Informatics?" Abby squeaked. "I don't know shit about coding."

"You don't always need to know how to code to get tech-adjacent jobs," Mike said. "I majored in philosophy."

"What do you do now?" I asked.

"I'm a product manager for a video marketing software company," Mike twisted the cap off of his lemonade, "and it has absolutely nothing to do with philosophy."

"Yeah? And how do you find a job like that around here?" I couldn't hide the disbelief in my voice. Abby sent me a glare.

"Well," Mike said, "to some degree, I got lucky. I was working in New York City until my uncle died. He only had 5k left on the mortgage, I couldn't pass up an opportunity like that."

"You moved back here to buy the house?" Abby asked.

"Not exactly," Mike said. "I had no intention of living here at first. I wanted to rent this house out as passive income, so I could afford more stuff in the city. Then things changed." Mike's voice cracked-so-softly-it-was-nearly-imperceptible.

I could tell by the downward twitch of Abby's lips that she suspected this "changed stuff" to be his failed engagement. She had emailed me another snippet about the former-fiancé the other day. Apparently Vox interviewed her about her nonprofit. And her 3 tips for a luscious Afro. (She did, indeed, have a luscious Afro).

I didn't want to watch her beautiful, perfect shadow cast any more darkness over my best friend's face. I directed the conversation back to someplace more useful for me.

"So, uh, going back to your job, there's a software company around here?" I asked, still incredulous. Perhaps there was a small bit of hope left for me. That a fulfilling, non-linear career could exist outside of a major metropolitan area.

"Um, not that I'm aware of," Mike said, and crushed that small hope. "I just work remotely these days. My office is down the hall. I go to meetings in my slippers." He smiled his sparkling, dimple-cheeked smile.

Abby and I were silent. Mike glanced between Abby's face and mine. I think he could smell our desperation.

"Hey, don't think I don't remember being 23," he said. "All I'm saying is that you have a lot more freedom than college would lead you to believe. It's not like just because you got an BSRN, you either have to become a nurse practitioner or stay on the med-surg floor forever."

"I guess so," Abby said. I could tell by the way she sucked in her lower lip that she was dubious. If Mike hadn't been the one talking, I figure she would've mentioned her mountains of student debt. But debilitating debt is not really something you're going to talk about to a guy you've only just started dating.

I was dubious for other reasons.

"Yeah, well," I said, "there are things we can't control. Like, let's say the universe is dead set against you ever being happy- have you been on Buzzfeed recently-"

"How bout we not talk about Buzzfeed," Abby fake-laughed loud enough to overwhelm my voice. "Why don't we go take a dip in the pool, it's pretty balmy out-"

"Now wait," Mike's green eyes took on a surprising intensity, "have you guys ever heard of stoicism?"

"Yeah," I said. The term was only vaguely familiar to me.

"I'm very influenced by stoicism. I wrote a thesis about it during my undergrad, but I like to think I lived those principles before I even knew they had a name."

Abby took another long sip of her gin. She wasn't pleased.

"Would you rather be a discontented human or a happy pig?" Mike asked.

"Happy pig," Abby said.

"Yeah," I nodded, "definitely happy pig."

"But see, if you're a discontented person you have the ability to improve things-" Mike trailed off as his gaze bounced between Abby and me again.

"Still. Happy pig," Abby said.

"Yeeeah, gotta go with the happy pig," I agreed.

"Okay," he set his lemonade on his coffee table. "Hold on, let me get my copy of Marcus Aurelius's journals. If my major advisor hadn't loaned me his copy when I was 19, I don't think I would have even graduated."

He got to his feet and started toward his office. After he was out of our line of sight, I whispered.

"He lived stoic principles before he knew them?"

"Look," Abby sighed, "it's hard to be a college kid and only have the one testicle."

"No way," I gasped.

"Those hormone patches are a fucking lifesaver," Abby said. "I really think they do him more good than the stoicism."

***

I fell asleep on Mike's couch around 11pm. I woke up at 12:45 to an iMessage from Rafi.

Hey, hope you had a good time with Abby today. Gonna turn in. Wanna do your resume tomorrow night?

Two fucking heart emojis.

I texted him back a simple, sure.

I wondered if Marcus Aurelius wrote anything about the fates, and whether or not they had accounts on Buzzfeed.

***