Grateful for grounding friends

I was a little uncomfortable sitting there in the cafe. I've always known that I wasn't a cafe kind of guy. For me, cafes conjure visions of small portions, croissants and teas with all sorts of fruit flavorings in them. Like boysenberry. Or kiwi. Or prune.\nBut I also try to be open-minded (I swear), so I figured I'd give this place a go. And in the end, it wasn't that bad. I ordered a chicken wrap type of thing, and it was actually fairly big. They also let me drink Diet Coke instead of a hot beverage. And the men's bathroom was so nice it looked like a women's bathroom. Not that I would know what a women's bathroom looks like.\nBut this is all beside the point. The point is I had a chance to have lunch with a friend. We worked at the IDS when we were undergrads; she was the copy desk chief, I was the night janitor. I used to clean up after those journalism geeks after their Taco Bell binges. Like all those bean burritos made the paper any better.\nMy friend entered the cafe and sat down. She's several months pregnant, and I attempted to compliment her without being a yutz.\n"Hey," I said, "you look really … big."\nYutz.\n"Oh geez, thanks," Ceci said with a smile.\nI tried to make up for my yutziness.\n"I mean everything seems to be going well," I said. "In that manner, I mean, you look nice and big. And healthy. Very healthy. Healthy, healthy, healthy."\n"Thanks," she said. "I even know what it's going to be."\n"What's it going to be?" \n"A girl," she said, beaming with pride.\n"Well, congratulations," I said earnestly. \n"So, how's your life going?"\nAt that point I did a mental "D'oh!" I knew she was going to ask that.\n"Uh, it's OK," I said, my eyes fixed on my chicken wrap. "It's going … OK."\n"Have you met anyone?"\nI swallowed hard.\n"Not, uh, not really, no," I said, scrambling for an excuse. I knew she wouldn't take just any old stupid reason for why I had no social life. Ceci was always up-front and no-bull. She was always honest and sincere, and she didn't take any crap from her friends.\n"Well," she said, "have you asked anyone out? Is there anyone you'd like to get to know better?"\n"Yeah, sure," I said. "I've asked a couple people out, but it didn't work out."\nI wanted to tell her that I really had no close friends here yet, that -- to quote Hank -- 'I'm so lonesome I could cry.' I wanted to tell her that I go home and put on Solomon Burke and just sit in the dark and wonder why I'm such a wiener.\n"Well, what's the problem?" she asked. "You're not a troll or anything, you know."\nShe's right, my mind said. You're not a troll. You're more like John Merrick, the Elephant Man. This is what my brain tells me.\n"I know, I know," I said, grateful for her support and friendship.\n"Something will happen," she said.\n"Yeah, maybe," I said. "We'll see."\nWe finished our lunch and paid our bills. We left the cafe and walked toward Sixth Street.\n"I had a good time," I told her as we parted ways. "Thanks for meeting me."\n"No problem," she said with a smile. At that point I was very glad I had a friend that didn't take any crap. I needed the grounding that she gave me. We all do. If we aren't grounded, we'd probably float away into nothingness.\nI headed up Grant Street, toward All Ears record store. I needed to buy some music. Maybe, I thought, they have some Solomon Burke.