Page 11 of First-Time Caller
“How do you find it?”
The last date I went on was probably four months ago and ended in a brief but satisfying roll in her sheets. I stopped on my way home from her place and got a cannoli from the little Italian bakery. I haven’t talked to her since.
I find dating, overall, to be a massive waste of time. But this show isn’t about me.
“I’m more interested in your thoughts about dating,” I deflect.
“Well, I think it sucks.”
I laugh and scrub my hand over my head, jostling my headphones. Static bursts in my left ear and I adjust them, pushing the band farther back. “Why does it suck?”
“I hate it. It’s like everyone is doing some dance that I never learned the steps to. I’m clueless, and I’m not using that as an excuse. I am genuinely clueless. I don’t understand all of the . . . stuff you have to sift through before you can be yourself.” She sighs. “It feels like that dream. You know? The one where you’re walking down the hallway in only your underwear.”
“I don’t think that’s how dating is supposed to feel.”
“Is that your expert opinion?”
“Yeah.” I laugh. “Yeah, it is.”
“I tried a dating app for two weeks,” Lucie confesses. “It was the most embarrassing two weeks of my life.”
“For you? Or for your prospective—”
“Victims?” she questions.
“I was going to say ‘dates,’ but whatever makes you comfortable.”
Another thoughtful sound slips out of her as she takes her time to answer. “How do you package yourself to be appealing?” she asks quietly. “That should have been my first sign, I guess. I had so much trouble with the questions, setting up my profile. My friend had to help me with it.”
“Patty?”
“Yeah.” Lucie laughs. “My one friend, apparently.”
“Maybe you don’t see yourself clearly.”
“Maybe none of us see each other clearly. Not anymore. The whole time I was on that app, I felt like a cartoon version of myself. It felt like—it felt like gamifying my heart, and I didn’t like it at all. I’m so glad so many people have found partners that way, but I couldn’t ever figure out if I was doing it right. It wasn’t for me, and I wish so badly it was. It made me feel like . . . like maybe I wasn’t the right type of person.”
“For dating?”
Her laugh is sharp this time. Not really a laugh at all. “For any of it. Love, maybe. I don’t know.”
My lips flatten into a line. “Did you ever go on any dates?”
“Mm-hmm,” she hums. “I did. Two, I think. And when I decided the app wasn’t working for me, I tried something else. A friend of a friend who knew a guy set me up. All of them—the dates, that is—they were perfectly fine. Decent. But I don’t know. It never felt like something I wanted to keep trying.”
“No sparks.” I hazard a guess. “It wasn’t making a difference for you.”
“It made me feel small. Less connected. Like . . . like all of us in this big, bustling world are just bouncing off one another and I don’t have anyone who wants to grab on. I didn’t feel like myself and I didn’t feel like anyone else was being themselves either.” She releases a breath, low and trembling. I can feel her snap back to awareness on the other end of the line. “I don’t know. None of that makes any sense. I’m rambling.”
“No,” I say, staring hard at the coffee ring I’ve left on the desk. She’s being honest. More honest than anyone who has ever called in to this show. “No, that makes sense.”
How often have I felt like I’m just drifting from one thing to the next? How hard has it been for me to muster enthusiasm for . . . anything? I’ve been caught in a fog and I can’t tug myself out of it.
I’ve been feeling small. Less connected. I know exactly how she feels.
“So I stopped trying to date. I have so much love in my life, I’m not sure I need any more. I don’t want—I don’t want to settle for something just to say I have it. That’s what I’ve been telling myself anyway, and here we are.” Her laugh is self-deprecating. “I’ve reached a new level of pathetic. My kid has called in to a radio station because she’s worried about me sitting home alone on the couch.”
“I don’t think that’s what she’s worried about.” I stretch out my legs beneath the desk. “Did she disappear? She’s quiet over there.”
