The first thing I did after my brother finished telling the story of the actress who has sex with her Oscar was order another beer. It was really best not to react to Eric’s I-work-in-Hollywood stories. Anything more than a faint nodding interest could set him spinning tales of Babylon all night long.

But Linda, who had never met Eric, had to ask for clarification. “Wait, you mean she actually uses her Academy Award statue to…no way.”

If I had been dating Linda for more than a few months, I would have given her the soft elbow. But we hadn’t yet developed the intuitive nudge. I was beginning to suspect we’d never get the chance because I couldn’t imagine taking her camping. Though I hadn’t been camping in well over ten years, willingness to sleep in the woods was something I required in a woman. It was on my list.

Eric moved to the edge of his barstool. “You bet,” he said, “I dated her Personal Assistant for almost two weeks.”