CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
I should probably be more responsible and finish typing up my report for the team first, but I’m anxious. All this talk about Dev and a potential relationship with him has made me realize how badly I need to get out into the world and stop pretending like I’m eighty-five years old and done with dating. I’m only thirty-two. I still have a lot of life to live. I still have a lot of sex to have. And if it’s not going to be with Dev, it needs to be with someone else. I can’t count on the fact that my sister’s vibes about him and me are right.
After I’m sure my sister has gone, I go into my home office and start up my computer. I’m still in my sweatsuit, sporting a pretty righteous case of bedhead, but it doesn’t matter. My future date will never see me looking like this. If the stories that I’ve read online are true, I’ll probably pick the worst guy in the whole town to go out on a first date with, and I’ll have a really funny story to tell my friends later.
I go to the dating website and stare at the home screen. I’m still logged on from when Dev and I were on there together. What should I do now? Should I start a new search, or should I use the one I already conducted when I was looking for Dev?
Since I can’t decide, I decide to fill in my own profile. That takes me all of ten minutes, and then I’m stuck back at the beginning again. How do I find a date?
My search results to find Dev are still there: a list of almost thirty names with one-liners from their ads. I try to imagine what my potential date might look like, and what he’d like to do in his free time, but the only thing that comes to mind is a man who looks like Dev and enjoys his hobbies too. I should just go ahead and admit I’m more than a little infatuated with him.
I click on the search results to refresh them. There are twenty-nine names now. “Oh, what the hell. Might as well start with these guys and see where it gets me.”
I scan through the offerings and find myself narrowing them down to the same three that I had chosen before. I know the one that says he’s still looking for his favorite person is Dev, so obviously I avoid that one. How desperate would that be, to purposely pick him and then pretend like I forgot? Ugh, how embarrassing.
Instead, I click on the one that says Take my hand and we’ll wander off together somewhere. When I click the Read More link and absorb his more detailed profile, I am struck once again by how much he reminds me of Dev. New Orleans is a pretty big place, though, so I guess it shouldn’t be surprising that there’s more than one guy who meets my criteria and seems similar to another. Rather than second-guess what I’m doing, I go ahead and click the Send Message button and type out a quick note.
Saw your message on the site here. Would you like to meet for a drink? The message is automatically signed with my username: nola4evr.
I pause only a few moments before clicking the Send button. I have nothing to lose, right? Maybe just a little bit of my pride, but I don’t have a whole hell of a lot of that left over. Apparently I don’t need much of it to survive.
I sit there for a little while wondering what I should do next, and then catch a whiff of my stink-breath. “Whoa.” My next step becomes very clear. Time to get ready for work. A little thrill runs through me as I realize that I actually have a job to go to. Not bad for a girl who was laid off on Monday.
Just as I’m about to log off the website, I hear a beep, and a little window pops up. Inside the little window is a heart that looks like it’s beating. My pulse jumps when I realize that someone has responded to my message. I read the response as my anxiety builds.
Sounds great! Where?
I respond without thinking.
Not sure exactly where you live, but how about Harry’s Harborside Tavern?
I’m not sure what to do next. What is the protocol for a first date generated on a website? Do I thank him? Do I ask him what he’s going to wear? I feel like a complete dweeb.
Saturday? 7 PM? he asks.
That’s fine, I say back, assuming my sister will babysit for me when she hears I have a real, live date.
Perfect. See you then. I’ll be the guy in the blue shirt.
Should I say something about what I’ll be wearing? I have no idea what that’ll be yet. Will that make me seem flaky? Oh well. I might as well stick with honesty as my best policy at this point. In the event I do hit the lottery and pick a great guy right off the bat, I don’t want him to fall for somebody I’m not. I’m not one of those cool girls who always knows what to say at exactly the right time. I’m better off keeping it short and sweet.
Ok. See you then.
Satisfied that I have now fulfilled the terms of my deal with Dev, I head upstairs to my bathroom to undo the mess that last night’s attempted sleeping had on my hair and face. With enough makeup, I might be able to hide the ravages suffered by this worried mom.