She's the One?

By Jason Tanamor

What happens when destiny leads you to the one? You follow it.

What happens when you finally meet her and she’s unavailable? You make her a deal she can't refuse.

From the author of “Hello Fabulous!” comes a semi-romantic comedy called “She’s the One?”

Wally has never had issues dating women. The problem is he cannot keep them straight. In fact, he wrote the romance guide for men. You could say he suffers from romance infidelity. When a string of dates ends with Wally forgetting past flings’ names, he begins to wonder if settling down is the answer.

Enter Sharon, a beautiful single woman who appears on Wally’s radar by virtue of random sightings throughout town.

As Wally’s dating life spirals out of control, and through continuous pressure from his parents to deliver grandkids, the Sharon sightings validate his desire to meet the one.

When things can’t get any worse, fate takes over and brings Wally and Sharon together as best man and maid of honor for Sam and Helen, a couple they coincidentally know.

Wally and Sharon first meet at, of all places, a church for the rehearsal. Wally is now convinced that destiny exists and is here to bring them together. During the rehearsal, Wally plays back his entire life, which consists of dating women, dating women, and dating women, piecing together all the Sharon sightings that lead up to this magical moment. Wally then makes his move and asks Sharon out.

The problem? She’s a lesbian.

Wally makes her a deal that if they go out one time and it doesn’t work out, he will never EVER bother her again. She agrees, for nothing more than to shut Wally up, giving him “one chance” to win her over.

Wally then develops a fail proof plan. Since Sharon likes women, there is only one thing he can do - develop all non-guy mannerisms. Wally does and the result is lesbian adventure hilarity.

Fans of Dave Barry, Albert Brooks, and Kevin Smith will love this semi-romantic comedy and humor satire quest about chasing the one you can't have.

"She's the One?" is a romantic comedy best friends kind of novel. With humor romance adult, this story will keep you laughing.

• Language: English
• Publisher: In & Out Press
• Release date: Mar 28, 2017
• ISBN: 9781544127781

Jason Tanamor

Jason Tanamor has 10 plus years of experience as an entertainment writer/interviewer for Yahoo!, the Moline Dispatch/Rock Island Argus, Cinema Blend, Celebrity Cafe, Strip Las Vegas Magazine, Pulse Magazine and Zoiks! Online. Tanamor has interviewed the likes of author Chuck Palahniuk (Fight Club); comedians Demetri Martin, Jim Breuer (SNL, Half Baked), Aisha Tyler (Talk Soup, The Ghost Whisperer), Dane Cook, and Gabriel Iglesias; musicians Billy Corgan (Smashing Pumpkins), Ann Wilson (Heart), Taylor Momsen (The Pretty Reckless and Gossip Girl), Chad Smith (Red Hot Chili Peppers), and Henry Rollins (Black Flag); and baseball legend Pete Rose. He has covered everyone from Steve Martin to Jerry Seinfeld and from Evanescence to President Obama. He also is the critically acclaimed author of the dark novels, "Anonymous" and "Drama Dolls," as well as the epic superhero themed children's book, "I Heart Superhero Kid."

Book preview

1.

THE PHONE RANG.

The phone rang a second time.

The phone rang a third time. And then the answering machine picked up. The announcement was clear - to leave a message after the beep. Nobody could ever get through to him at this time because at this time of night, it was naked time. Naked time, as Wally referred to it, was what he lived for.

The sounds of kissing bellowed throughout the small, comfy bedroom. The noise echoed off the walls, up against the ceiling, down toward the floor, and then ricocheted off a corner of the room until it dissipated into thin air. It was a familiar noise heard in Wally Bain’s life. His world hadn’t seen a steady relationship in some time, and tonight wouldn’t be the start of one. He was more into the one-night stands, a hump ‘em and dump ‘em kind of guy.

One-night stands for Wally were essentially that, one night he could stand. Because relationships, according to him, were not on his mind. He could not see past the sex, mainly because there was more sex to have.

Even though he was just a pizza delivery driver, a phrase his father used frequently - but not so much recently (he had another agenda for Wally on his mind) because he wanted Wally to go to college - Wally’s bizarre attraction kept bringing ladies in.

Wally was an average looking man for 26-years of age. He stood about five foot eight and weighed in at approximately 145 pounds. His brown, scruffy hair was, at first sight, attractive, but the way he maintained it made people think, Why doesn’t he just comb it? He was in pretty good shape, at least good enough shape to maintain his lifestyle of sleeping with women, driving pizzas around, and drinking beer.

Wally was fairly bright; he watched the news and read the articles on the Internet, but he was a delivery driver. He graduated from high school and had no intentions of enrolling in college. There was nothing wrong with the pizza joint job, he would tell everyone. He just hadn’t thought that far ahead to change his life. He needed something, or someone to make him want to do better, something to live for.

The women he had hooked up with were, for the most part, all beautiful. They had ranged from semi-smart with baggage - meaning children, a crazy ex-boyfriend, or a big butt - to clueless and gullible with big boobs, which pretty much referred to the rest of the hot, female population Wally came across. The one thing they had in common, other than being drop dead gorgeous, was they were easy picking for Wally.

Sensitivity and someone sweet was their typical profile. I just want to find someone that will treat me nice, one woman, Sherry, a cute as a button redhead with a few freckles that covered the bridge of her nose, had remarked about her relationship with Wally.

Sherry, of course, was an emotional wreck. She recently gave birth to a girl named Andrea. It wasn’t more than six minutes into the life of the child that the father had decided the situation wasn’t right for him.

In fact, had he been running a mile, six minutes would have been sufficient. But he wasn’t, unfortunately, he was breaking up with Sherry.

I’m sorry, I’m just not ready to be a daddy, Kyle had said, with his new, bustier girlfriend waiting in the car for him. Kyle had bolted from Sherry’s life and within a week, Wally came into the picture. Wally had sweet-talked Sherry into going out with him, unaware that she was vulnerable.

Just let me take you out for a drink. We can talk, and if you still don’t want to go out with me, then I’ll disappear from your life. You’ll never have to see me again, Wally had said, smiling like an innocent schoolgirl. Sherry had agreed, for nothing more than Wally being a nice guy.

This was what Wally was blessed with, a quick lipped tongue that shot out more words than an auctioneer, giving him the ability to talk his way into any woman’s heart, or their pants if you asked Wally. He loved his life, being single, dating anyone and everyone, no responsibility - just him and his self-centered approach.

The first night they went out, Wally was buying Sherry drinks until she reached the everything is hilarious stage. Later that night, he was rotating Sherry in positions her father would disapprove of - missionary, doggy style, 69, butt (i.e. who let the back door open?) and ride ‘em cowgirl. Come to think of it, Wally couldn’t imagine any position being approved by her father. Sex with my daughter. Man tested, father approved. That would never, ever happen. Not in a million years!

Their romantic escapade lasted for two days, with Sherry finally confessing to Wally that she had a little girl. Wally took this as her telling him she was looking for a man to care for her and Andrea, and like Kyle, Wally ran like hell. He was the typical smooth talking, superficial jerk that made nice guys finish last. What he didn’t know was, Sherry was just being honest, something that Wally hadn’t experienced in a while.

The need to date as many women as possible surfaced some years back, around the time that he was just dumped by the woman that appeared to be the love of his life. Everything was perfect for him, so he thought.

They got along with each other. They enjoyed each other’s company. He liked to have sex with her. She liked to have sex with him. She was a good cook. He liked to eat. She cleaned the bathroom. He knew what color the toilet was. He liked to have sex with her. She started ogling over some guy. He liked to have sex with her. She began faking orgasms or dreaming about this other guy. He still knew what color the toilet was. She stopped cleaning the bathroom. He still liked to have sex with her but had it fewer times a week than before. She found out the guy’s name she had been gaga over. Wally began masturbating and his penis started to chafe. She was at this guy’s house when she was supposed to be working. Wally found out she was lying. She didn’t care. He brought up the subject of her cheating on him. She didn’t care. He told her that he loved her. She didn’t care. He noticed the toilet was becoming a color darker than what he knew it to be. She laughed and found herself at this guy’s house. He gave her an ultimatum, something he was sure would do the trick.

And then it happened, while he was in the bathroom with a toilet that was looking like it had hit a tanning booth, a good-bye letter out of the blue ended his dream of everlasting love. She left him for a college frat guy. The guy she had been gaga over.

The love of Wally’s life, or so he thought, was named Tracey. She was five foot eight, blonde, and weighed a meager 100 pounds. A life sized Barbie doll was how Wally described her to his buddies. Dimples on her cheeks, pointy lips, and almond shaped eyes. Her thighs were like Pringles potato chips and her butt cheeks were like two eggplants hugging.

Wally and Tracey had met at the restaurant she was waitressing at. She was the kindest person in the world, according to Wally when he had first met her. Wally had just ended a relationship that was headed down the sewer. Even though it was the best thing for the couple, he was still upset. Wally was on the rebound. Like the women Wally dated now, he, too, was vulnerable and gullible to a pretty person giving him attention.

He gut wrenchingly asked her out, and she said yes. They dated for, what seemed to be, forever. It was through the good-bye letter that eventually turned him into what he was. Good-bye, Wally. You can turn into a male slut now. This was the paraphrased version, as Wally put it. It really never had said that at all. Something about feelings and loving someone as a person and not a boyfriend or some shit? Wally couldn’t remember.

Since then, Wally had been insecure about relationships, taking it out on every courtship he came across, all because of Tracey. To avoid being hurt again, Wally opted for the sleazy, player route that he had witnessed on an episode of Beverly Hills 90210. One would think that had he been watching a soap opera, he could have died and come back to life numerous times while he dated women and their mothers and sisters. Pretty much the same thing that Aaron Spelling had in mind, save for the dying and coming back to life as another actor with the same character name.

Karla, the latest bait for the heartbreaker, stood an even six feet tall, with long, bleach blond hair that came down to her shoulders. She barely finished high school (and the word barely was stressed here), and continued to college, but couldn’t deal with the changing schedules. Now, she was working two part-time jobs, with the one just as useless as the other. But, if a person asked her, she had one, worthless full-time position.

I hate the work, but it pays the bills, she would always say. This seemed to be the most common response by the handful of women seen in Wally’s life. A woman with goals, ambition, and a college degree was the last thing on his mind. However, if it was a woman with natural breasts and a tight butt, he was all for furthering his education - in sex-ed. And come to think of it, if a woman had fake breasts, he’d take the excel program in sex-ed.

After a mouthful each of saliva filled kisses on Wally’s tainted sofa, the one that was more tainted than Paris Hilton, the two had attempted to make their way to the bedroom. Wally was slightly smaller than Karla, making the journey to his queen size bed difficult. With a firm grip, he stood from his position, being careful not to disturb the make-out session. To add to the strain, Karla wrapped her long, vivacious legs around Wally’s waist, increasing the task to extreme difficulty. If judges were existent, Wally would receive a perfect 10.

Although the path to his bedroom was a short one, it seemed like a marathon. But it wasn’t, even though Wally hoped to be greeted by a spectator handing out a glass of water. With no sight ahead, and the only guide being his memory of placed objects in the room, Wally had moved forward, one step at a time. So far, so good, he thought.

The doorway frame came into view.

Thinking that he had it cleared, Wally, struggling to keep Karla suspended around his waist, continued through the doorway.

BANG!

The funny shaped wood outlining the doorframe stabbed Karla in the back, piercing her shoulder blade to a pain, stricken state. This was blatant from the expression released from her face.

Ow, she wailed.

Having not been severely affected by this event, Wally nonchalantly stepped back a pace and adjusted his feet to completely make the rectangular shaped entrance. Walking through, he kicked the door shut with his leg, almost losing his balance.

Whoa, whoa, he thought. He tried to imagine what a clown balancing a pole with dishes spinning on top would do but erased any images as they were making him lose his balance.

He began to slip forward, so to avoid any humiliating events, he flung Karla onto his bed. The springs made a weird sound and then settled. She stared, waiting for Wally to take control.

He looked menacingly at her and thought, I’ll take control of you all right. If that’s what you want. And even though she hadn’t said it aloud, the two were thinking the same thing. Wally moved closer to her and found his way on top of her.

The bed had served as the final place that any of these women would ever be seen, or heard for that matter.

Hardly interrupting the mood, Wally managed to unbutton his shirt. With the assistance of Karla, her blouse was no match to the determined, yet confident Wally.

Wally completely undressed Karla and managed his own clothes. He then squeezed in between Karla’s legs and the two began at it.

The headboard banged against the wall, making an unusually loud noise, especially at three in the morning. The loud beats against the cheap drywall, along with a squeaky bed, rang throughout the thin walls that separated the apartments.

2.

THE DISTURBANCE CAUSED loud-mouthed neighbor, and 78-year-old retiree, Mr. Ogden, to defend the well being of the other residents in the building.

Being the age that he was, a person could never tell by his fleet footed actions, in which he displayed at a time such as this, that he was a very old man. Mr. Ogden lived in the apartment adjacent to Wally’s bedroom wall, so naturally he got the full effect. Standing in his pajamas, with his salt-and-pepper colored, thinning hair appearing to have lacked the escape of a static tornado, he pounded on the wall in which the faint noises were heard.

God damn it! Shut up, Mr. Ogden yelled. He pounded his small, loosely closed fists, covered in age spots, on the wall a second time.

The sounds of love making only increased from this pathetic attempt to resolve the issue. He pounded harder on the wall, this time using a clenched fist, instead of the weak, slightly opened slap culminated by a wretched half-assed moderately curled fist just seconds prior.

In the mix of the headboard banging and the bed squeaking, some loud crashes scared Mr. Ogden away from the wall.

He backed up a few feet and stared at the wall, trying to somehow look through to catch a glimpse of what the crashes were. One noise sounded like a picture falling to the ground, another had the noise of a speaker of some sort falling over and one noise even sounded like the bed collapsed to the floor. Whatever the noises were, Mr. Ogden was sick of them.

Completely fed up with this ongoing situation, Mr. Ogden grabbed the phone in disgust and dialed the number to the police department. The conversation only lasted a few seconds, as the calls to the station occurred frequently.

It’s my neighbor again, the frail old man said.

We’ll send a unit there shortly, a dispatcher on the other end said. Sex again?

They’re humping, Mr. Ogden confirmed.

A giggle from the other end came through before the phones were hung up.

Mr. Ogden set the phone down and continued his frustration, with endless pounding and obscenities.

Don’t you know what time it is? he screamed, stopping with the attitude because his fist was now red. For an elderly man, he had the lungs of an infant child with a dirty diaper.

After a few minutes of squeaking and rocking, the sounds halted. There was no more noise. Mr. Ogden leaned in closer to the wall that separated his apartment with Wally’s, and listened for a second. He heard a couple voices muttering words that were imperceptible. This was followed by a few heavy breaths.

Mr. Ogden looked almost relieved with the situation but wanted to get his point across. And since he was too old and fragile