Jeez, he was pushy.
“Just listen. Regardless of attraction or lack of attraction, nothing can or will happen between us.”
“And why is that?” He framed the question as though my words would confirm some theory he already held.
“Because, you said yourself that you’ve read that book, seen that movie, and you don’t want to see it again.”
“Meaning?” He blinked, his expression betraying confusion.
“You’re not interested in something long-term, right? A committed relationship. Partnership. And,” I shrugged, beating back the butterflies in my stomach with a spiked club, “that’s what I’m interested in. That’s all I want.”
Matt lifted his chin and rocked back on his heels, effectively disconnecting my hand from his chest. His gaze met and held mine. “I see.”
He stared at me, a thoughtful expression on his features. I stared at him, an open expression on mine.
“Correct.” His thoughtful expression persisted; I sensed that my response both surprised and confused him. “Friends it is.”
“Good.” I nodded, forcing a smile. It felt unnatural, and I had to really think about how wide I should make it because I was distracted by a sinking sensation in my stomach. “I’m glad we’re on the same page.”
I wasn’t unhappy about his acquiescence. Yet I’d be lying if I claimed I wasn’t disappointed. Disappointed in the situation, disappointed in Matt, and disappointed in the entire male portion of the human race.
But the situation was no more Matt’s fault than mine. He’d been honest about his lack of interest in a lasting relationship. I’d been honest about my lack of interest in a truncated relationship.
See? Honesty. It gets the job done.
And sometimes situations are just shitty.
Moving on . . .
Before I could stop myself, I asked, “So, why didn’t you return my text?” and then I winced, because that sounded needy.
His eyes widened for a brief moment, and then he closed them and rubbed his forehead. “I apologize. Things have been busy at work and I—”
“It’s fine. Don’t worry about it.” I waved him off, because his excuses hurt my feelings for some reason. I didn’t know why I suddenly felt so raw, exposed.
I really needed to rethink this emotional bravery thing.
“No. Not fine.” He caught my elbow, pulled me to a stop, then shoved his hands back in his pockets. “I promise I’ll return your text next time. I promise.” Again, he looked and sounded so earnest, my feelings caught in my throat.
I couldn’t speak. Sincerity from Matt Simmons was apparently my kryptonite.
Therefore, I nodded, giving him a tight smile.
“Hey, so,” he shifted on his feet, gathering a breath, “what’s going on with you? Did you finish your story?”
“Which one?” I began walking again, slowly at first so we could walk together. “I’m always writing and researching several.”
“The cuddling story.”
“Oh, yeah. I have a draft of that section. But it’s part of a larger series about replacing romantic relationships with either paid services or technology. Like robots.”
He made a sound in the back of his throat, turning an incredulous, slow-spreading grin on me. “Look at you, sneaky Marie.”
“Yep.”
“My research is part of this series?”
“Yes. We’ll use it for the technology issue.”
“I can already tell you which approach is superior.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah. Robots. Paying other people to care about you doesn’t work.”
“How can you be so sure?”
He shrugged, scratching his chin, not answering, instead asking, “What other paid services are you going to check out?”
“Um, let’s see. Have you heard of dry humping professionals?”
He gasped, his hand clutching his chest. “Are you shitting me?”
“Nope.”
Matt blinked, his eyes moving all over the place, like he was trying to process too many thoughts. “Well, what else? Are you driving down to Nevada?”
“No. No prostitutes. But I am planning to hire a male escort to take me to my ex’s engagement party.” If I ever can ever bring myself to actually RSVP or answer one of David’s calls.
He stopped me again with a hand on my elbow. This time he didn’t let go. “You’re joking.”
“I’m not.” I grinned as I assured him of my veracity. “And I made an appointment at an OM studio.”
“What’s an OM studio?” He looked petrified.
“Orgasm Meditation.”
“Just stop. Stop talking. No more of this nonsense.” He shook his head, his delivery of these words reminding me of Ryan Reynolds in any of his comedic roles.
The dramatics launched me into a fit of giggles, which felt good. The laughter eased some of the earlier sting.
“Oh my God. Marie.” He didn’t let go of my arm. Rather, he pulled me into a hug, clutching me tightly, and whispering, “I’m so scared for you,” into my ear while he pet my hair, which only made me laugh harder. Truly, he was hilarious.
“You’re funnier than I remember.” I wrapped my arms around his waist, noting that he felt better than I remembered, too.
“And you’re crazier than I remember. I should lock you up, save you from yourself.”
“Hey,” I halfheartedly pushed at him, “I thought you said I was brave?”
“You are brave.” His strong arms squeezed me as he loud-whispered, “But you’re also craze-zeeee.”
13
Synthetic DNA (aka DNA Foundation)
Artificial DNA made using commercially available oligonucleotide synthesis machines for storage and DNA sequencing machines for retrieval. This type of storage system is more compact than current magnetic tape or hard drive storage systems due to the data density of the DNA. Many believe it’s the answer to the growing problem of data storage needs. One gram of synthetic DNA has been demonstrated to hold up to 215 petabytes of information (1 petabyte = 1,000,000 gigabytes)
Source: New York Genome Center, New York, NY
After our walk and friend-embrace in Grant Park, I’d given Matt a large berth, deciding it was best for him to make the next move. I would do anything for my friends, other than force my friendship upon them.
He’d texted me three days later.
Matt: Are you dead? Or do you want lunch?
His timing was perfect. I’d been working from home, baking bread for the week, and storyboarding the first draft of my article on his research. While arranging my notes, I’d discovered a few loose ends.
Marie: I’ll bring lunch, are you allergic to anything?
Matt: Cats, sadly. And teenagers, happily.
Marie: How about shellfish?
Matt: I LOVE SHELLFISH
Grabbing the two jars of crab bisque I had in the freezer, disposable/microwavable bowls, and a loaf of bread still warm from the oven, I met him at his office. We ate while I asked my questions. When we were finished, he suggested I stay and finish storyboarding, just in case I needed additional clarification.