The phone rings. Chuck fumbles for the receiver and croaks into the wrong end, "Yeaaah."

"Hi Chuck, it's Pete." Pete is Chuck's oldest and most loyal friend. Even now, with their friendship strained to its most tenuous level, Pete is still a phone call away.

"Well, hello there, Pete. You calling me to make sure that I'm still amongst the living? Fear not. Mission accomplished. Your good deed for the day is complete.”

Pete let out a knowing chuckle. "Saw your ad online today, Chuckster... and don't say that wasn't you. I can sense your self-loathing from across town. A sign of desperation, wouldn't you say?

Too much of nothing can make a man feel ill at ease.

Chuck was on rocky ground but still had a leg to snap back on. “Desperation?! Of course, it reeks of desperation. Have you forgotten what I look like, what I live like, hell... what I smell like!?! 

"Heh,” Pete laughed. “The last time I saw you, you were looking in need of hosing down, let alone a shower and shave. You need me to send over a nurse for a little scrub-bath?”

“That be a brazen act of torture for both of us. I wouldn't even have posted that ridiculous ad online if I wasn't wading in a bottle of scotch. I had a great day at the track and was feeling pretty good about myself. Good enough to hoist the laptop up onto my growing belly and conjure up a fairy-tale description of myself to pass off as the real deal:

Pete couldn’t stop laughing. "Shit, man! Even I would have given you call based on that description! That does sound an awful lot like the "Old Chuck". You longing for the past there buddy?

“The past. Who am I kidding, right? It's been five years since #2 left me and I'm still a mess. When the hell did this all go to shit, Pete?”

“Five years ago,” Pete responded.

“Once #1 died, I think I just lost confidence in myself. I let my work collapse and my health go to pot. My health. I used to be fit. Golf, scuba, trekking; I did it all. #1 and I traveled as much as possible, too. Now? I'm lucky if I can make it to the bathroom and back without forgetting where the fucking couch is.”

Pete thought to himself, “down the hall, over the pile of beer cans and pizza crusts and turn right next after the stack of yellow newspapers.”

“No kids and losing friends by the week. Shit, you may be the last friend I've got left, Pete. What the fuck is wrong with me?!? What the fuck is wrong with you!? Don't you have anything better to do... some other charity case to pity over?”

“Chuck. I've said it a thousand and one times, you ain't half bad. You're just in a deep and muddy rut. Aren't you the same guy who got me to to realize that when my company went under that I shouldn't just liquidate myself as well as well as all my assets? You remember that? Yeah, that was you. Mr. Optimism. Mr. Silver Lining. Mr. Green Grass. You got me to stop thinking I was a loser... and you are no loser either. There's a whole lotta you left for some lucky lady to love, Chuck. We've just got to get you out of that dungeon of an apartment you live in and back out in sunlight.”

The phone went silent for the next five minutes. Pete thought Chuck might have hung up, but he could hear a faint sigh as if the phone was on Chuck's lap. Chuck started in again. 

“Ok. So I'm a lovable loser, maybe? Thanks for sticking by me, buddy. Yeah, that ad was a bit desperate, wasn't it. Screw it. Thinking of #2 was the final nail today. I can’t get it out of my head, the last thing she said to me. She said, "Chuck. I love you 'cause I need to, not 'cause I need you.”

“What's done is done, Chuck. We've talked about this many times. You are well past the point of sitting around waiting to die. It's time to get busy living.”

“So, Pete. You think I will get any takers on my ad? Fuck it. If some woman is crazy enough to respond to me, I may just have to reply.”