Seth Baumgartner's Love Manifesto Read Online Free Page A

gas money.”
    â€œWhat’s a never-have?”
    â€œI don’t know. I just made it up. But I can tell you that it’s not good. Anyway, I’ve listened to your lame attempts at podcasting. You suck.”
    â€œAll the more reason to focus on it.”
    â€œAll the more reason to quit,” Dimitri says. “Some things are beyond help.”
    â€œIf I’m going to be a communications major, I’ve got to get a handle on all this stuff.” I refasten the Velcro on my golf glove. “Anyhow, I guess the big reason I don’t want to work here at the club is that I don’t want to be scraping and polishing my dad’s spikes all summer.”
    â€œLook, I hate my parents as much as the next guy, but it’s no reason to wuss out when it comes to a sweet job. Anyway, your dad’s pretty cool. At least he doesn’t fly all over the country playing in geekwad bridge tournaments like mine. How lame is that?”
    â€œNo, my father is just a geekwad accountant.”
    â€œTouché.”
    More than anything, I want to tell Dimitri what I saw at Applebee’s. But even though he’s my best friend, the idea of letting him in on such a big family secret…I’m not sure I want to do that. It would make everything feel more real.
    â€œThe third reason—” I say.
    â€œThe third reason is that you’re a pussy. You’re a plain no-holds-barred pussy.”
    â€œI’m not—”
    â€œShut up,” Dimitri says. “All your whining is getting into my head. I’ve got a hole to win here. I’m going to spank you today, next week, and every week this summer. Then my dad and I are going to spank you and every other team at the tournament. Now that Kyle Sanders is away atCornell, it’s a soft field. I’m going to kick your ass.”
    Thinking about the father/son golf tournament twists up my guts like I’ve swallowed an oscillating fan. I’d rather wrap my three-iron around my dad’s neck than play with him.
    Dimitri addresses his ball with his three-iron, waggles it a few times, and swings. His club slices through the cabbage and connects with a sharp tick . The shot flies straight and low. It’s one of those slow risers I love to watch. The ball turns to the left with the curve of the fairway, lands softly, and rolls next to one of the sprinkler heads. It’s about a hundred yards short of the pin.
    â€œNice poke,” I say, trying to figure out how I’m going to recover. Hitting out of the bushes with Dimitri’s ball a wedge away from the hole puts me in a tough position. I’ve got to play the next shot aggressively or get damn lucky with my putter.
    We spread apart and head off in the direction my ball went. Past the trees I punched through, the ground is mostly dirt and roots and rocks. I head over there.
    â€œSo, that sucks about Veronica,” Dimitri says.
    My insides clench up even more. I’ve been so focused on my father that the whole Veronica mess sort of took a backseat.
    â€œNow you’re trying to get in my head,” I say.
    â€œI figure you can’t screw up worse than that first shot.” Dimitri points to a cluster of trees. My golf ball gleams from a rats’ nest of roots next to the fattest tree. “There it is.”
    I drop my bag and check my lie. The best I can hope for is to punch it under the low branches—roll it out onto the fairway—and pray for a miracle on my third swing.
    â€œYou really loved her, huh?” Dimitri says.
    Tears rise to my eyes, but I take a deep breath to settle myself. “She sucker punched me. One minute she’s all hot and heavy, and the next day she dumps me. How does that happen?”
    â€œYou’re so melodramatic. It’s like I’m playing golf with Walt freakin’ Whitman over here.”
    â€œSeriously,” I say. I pull out my five-iron and choke down on the grip. “If