Page 11 of Let's Kiss and Tell

Lucy’s brows furrow as she spins a thin gold ring on her middle finger. “Thank you” is all she says, and then she takes a deep inhale. “I technically still get one more question, since you didn’t answer my last one,” she tells me.

“Shoot.”

“Are you in a relationship?” she asks. “And that’s not the question.”

“I am not,” I say. “If I was, I don’t think we’d be sitting here right now.”

“Hm.” She lets out a noncommittal noise. Oddly, I’m not sure if that’s the answer she wanted to hear. She props her elbow on her crossed knee and her chin on her fist. “What’s your favorite part about dating?”

“Honestly?” I take a breath in and think. “Nothing.”

“Nothing?!” she repeats.

“I hate dating,” I admit. “It’s demanding, it’s tiring, it’s confusing.”

“Interesting,” she says. “Do you date with the purpose of hooking up or finding a life partner?”

“See, the fact that you have to ask me that is exactly what I mean.” I hold out a hand. “It’s like you have to lay all of that out even before you go on a first date. For instance, if I’m on a date with an amazing woman and it goes great and Idon’tcall her the next day, I’ve done something wrong. Or if Idocall her the next day, she’s upset if we’re not in a committed relationship within the month.”

“Marsh, I hate to break it to you,” Lucy says. “It’s the same thing for women.”

“Then what doyoulike about dating?” I throw the question back to her.

“I like getting to know people,” she answers. “Discovering places around the city, finding out if you have chemistry with someone. Those are all fun things.”

“Sure.” I try to see it her way. “If you have the energy to do all of that. I do not.”

“What dating apps are you on?” Lucy asks, and I’m not sure if I’m ready to have my profile ripped apart, because based on the honesty of this conversation, Iknowshe’s going to ask to see my profile. “Wait,” she says. “Are you…not using any apps?”

“To the advantage of the piece you’re writing, I prefer to meet someone organically.” I take another sip of my beer. “I have an account, but the profiles and the photos are too much for me. I never look at it.”

“How’s that been going for you?” Lucy asks. “I’m not knocking it,” she adds. “I’m genuinely curious.”

“I’m not trying to pick up people at the farmers market if that’s what you mean. But sometimes I get to talk to pretty girls at bars on a Friday night.”

Lucy looks down at the floor, and I think I’ve made her blush, which I’m assuming is not easy.

“Can I see your profile?” she asks.

There it is.

“No,” I reply.

“Come on!” She leans in closer. Close enough that I’m very aware of exactly how much space is between our knees. “I’ll show you mine!”

“No, I don’t want to learn what my online dating profile reallysays about me,” I protest, and another smile takes over her face. “You’ll just have to come across me like everyone else.”

“Oh, I will,” she says determinedly, and now I’m thinking about Lucy’s dating profile, her dating life. This little detail tells me that she’s single, not like that information is important. But it’s something that makes me relieved for some reason. “But I get it,” she says. “Dating apps can sometimes be hit or miss.”

“Dating apps feel like a game,” I say.

“I think they were created to feel that way,” she agrees. “That’s why there’s this urge to always go back to them.”

My dating life isn’t something I talk about. So, to have this space to vent about relationships, especially with someone as honest about the topic as Lucy, is refreshing. She makes it feel like it’s okay to be vulnerable.

“I have a wedding to attend next month,” I begin to tell her. “Even finding a simple plus-one has been a nightmare.”

“That’s it?” She frowns. “You just want aplus-one?”