Page 2 of Last Night Was Fun

Getting fake numbered.

Is that a verb?

... asks the man in the throes of the consequences of said action right now.

Good point.

She found herself smiling at their exchange and oddly wanting to continue it. She swung her legs up onto the couch and leaned back on a squishy pillow the color of a peacock.

Tell me about the date. Where did it go wrong?

Who says it went wrong?

The fact you’re texting with a stranger who happens to own the fake number someone made up to avoid you speaks pretty clearly to the date’s quality.

Fair.

He went silent again. Long enough for Emmy to watch aBake Offsoufflé collapse to a restrained round of softly clucked tongues and disappointed sighs.

It wasn’t even a date, actually. We met at a bar and hung out.

Wait, you MET last night and you’re already texting this morning? What about the three-day rule?

(Emmy had only heard of this rule’s existence. She knew nothing about its application in the wild.)

Well, I thought things went pretty great, so I assumed it would be fine to text sooner.

(Aha! It did exist.)

You assumed wrong, buddy.

Clearly.

Did you kiss her?

That’s an incredibly personal question.

Hey, I’m just trying to diagnose your date’s cause of death here. I can take my services elsewhere.

What makes you such an authority on all-cause date mortality? Get fake numbered a lot?

One would have to actually date to get fake numbered.

Wait. Who am I talking to here? You’re not, like, a kid, are you?

No, perv. And how are you just now asking me that?

Honestly, it didn’t cross my mind until you mentioned your lack of love life.

His comment speared her like a cocktail umbrella through a wedge of pineapple. Her love life was certainly lacking—by choice, thank you very much—and she hadn’t minded one bit until this strange encounter had put something that felt like tiny fluttering wings in her belly, a symptom she would surely need to see a doctor about.

If you must know, I’m a 67-year-old grandmother in North Park with three chihuahuas and a parrot that knows all the words to Call Me Maybe.

He responded with a crying eyes laughing emoji and then,

Wait. Are you serious?

I’ll have Cawly Rae Jepsen record you a voicemail to prove it.