Page 6 of The Situationship

“You were in the army?” I asked.

“Yeah,” he said, pulling things out of the fridge. “I was a medic.”

I ran a finger along the coffee table. No dust. He had a vase of dried lilacs on the end table. It was a little funny to think of this giant man picking flowers, but I could somehow imagine it anyway. I walked around looking at the art on his walls.

There was a wood carving that I recognized as one of Daniel’s hanging over the fireplace. Probably an earlier piece by the look of it. Maybe a gift? Or maybe Doug was supporting his friend. Either way I liked that he had it. It meant he was a good enough friend to buy it, or a good enough friend to be gifted it. No matter which scenario, he was a good enough friend to hang it, even though it wasn’t as polished as Daniel’s work was now. Doug was proud of this. He put it in the most prominent spot in the room. He wanted people to see it—or he wanted to see it because it was sentimental for him.

Green flag.

There was a small, clean bathroom with a pedestal sink. The dainty floral wallpaper looked like something a grandma would hang.

“Did you pick this wallpaper?” I called.

“Naw,” he said, setting a cast-iron skillet on the stove. “My grandma. I like it though.”

I liked it too.

“Your house is clean,” I said.

“I don’t like how I feel when it’s not clean. It messes with me.”

“How many bedrooms?” I asked.

“Three,” he said.

“Can I see them?”

“Go ahead.”

I made my way upstairs. The first room was a guest room. It was clean and neat, with pale green paint on the walls and a quilted bedspread. It had a white antique washbasin and pitcher on the dresser. Nice.

The next room was full of canning supplies and boxes of bear-shaped plastic honey containers. The last one was the primary bedroom.

It was the kind of room that you looked at and just knew someone’s great-grandma gave birth to allllll her kids in here. It was probably totally unchanged in the last hundred years except for the addition of running water in the bathroom.

He had an antique four-post bed that was all made up with a vibrant patchwork quilt. Like the rest of the house, the room was spotless. The worn hardwood floors shone under the sunlight coming in from the windows. He had a rusty red area rug, wooden dresser, and an armoire.

I opened the armoire.

Was it my business? No. Didn’t care.

Women should snoop. Snooping saves lives. Lets you know if you’re in the house of a serial killer or a married man or a guy with a closet full of Sharpies to draw dicks on trails.

I didn’t find dick stuff.

What I found was an organized collection of working attire. His clothes were neatly hung, all facing the same direction and buttoned on the hanger. He liked order.

I also liked order.

I closed the door.

This room was another green flag. So far Doug was checking out.

There was a guitar in the corner by the nightstand.

I grabbed it and brought it down with me.

“I don’t have any turkey or anything,” he said as I came down the creaky stairs. “I’m a vegetarian. But I think I can pull something good together.”