Page 88 of Experiments in Offline Dating

“Yeah. Obviously. But you’d better order two, just in case.”

“I should, should I? And what flavor do you think I’m going to want for my second ice cream?”

“You’re going to want mint chocolate chip.”

“Am I, now?”

Chapter 23 An Experiment in Becoming Jealous of a Spoon

Dinner had been surprisingly civil. I hadn’t minded Tadhg’s company at all. We had definitively established that it wasn’t a date. And I was too tired and too hungry to spiral. But then, just when I’d thought it was safe, it had ended in total brain malfunction.

I had not anticipated what a sexual experience it would be to sit directly across the table from Tadhg and watch him eat ice cream. I couldn’t handle it. I was like a damn pervert watching him with that spoon. He licked his lips. I stared. He stared at me. I felt it everywhere.

I freaked out. I got flustered. I got weird. And then without saying anything, I pushed away from the table and went to the bar to ask for the check so that I could get the hell out of there.

This was not how this was supposed to go. Ice cream? I never should have allowed ice cream! I should have wrestled the server to the ground! I should have slapped the spoon out of Tadhg’s hand! What the fuck was I thinking? What would be next? Spreading sunblock across his back? Skinny-dipping? I had been tested and had fallen at the first hurdle!

“Could you be persuaded to go for one last drink?” Tadhg asked as we left the pub.

I almost said no. I considered running away to my room and ignoring all of this until the next day. But the sooner I got this chat out of the way, the better. I couldn’t handle another day like today.

We walked up the road a few minutes to Kennedy’s bar. I was instantly soothed by the ambiance here. It felt almost like someone’s home, with several smaller rooms low-lit by candles, a relaxed jam circle in one room instead of a loud show for tourists. A soft buzz came from a cool-looking crowd who seemed local, and that too felt soothing, almost like white noise.

“This is so much better.” I took off my earplugs.

“I thought you might like it. Not so busy.”

“How did you know this was here?”

“I found it when I was looking around earlier for that ballbag.”

“We have something to thank him for, then. We should send him a text.”

“Oh, I don’t think he’ll be answering any texts of ours after the hiding I gave him.” He grinned, and a little joy bubbled up my spine.

He left me to save a table, and I watched his back at the bar with all the unblinking concentration of a grade-A pervert. I wondered what it looked like under all that flannel. Shit, Maya. Fucking snap out of it! Why couldn’t I just be normal? We needed to have this talk so that we could verbally agree there would be zero opportunity for a repeat sexual congress (see fig. 6). That way it would be confirmed. It would be decided. I could forcibly remove the very idea from my realm of possibility and finally act normal again.

But first I had to get through this talk. And it was going to be horrible. He had already made it very clear that he didn’t like having “talks.” So now, on top of my inability to read his cues and be subtle, on top of my awkwardness, I felt like I was forcing him into it.

In my head, I started listing the things that we needed to discuss, to make sure I didn’t forget anything. My pulse picked up. I had to start it. How could I start it? I was going to fuck it up, wasn’t I? Wild horrors of the stupid shit I might say pranced through my head and mocked me.

Then, with the distinct knock of glass on wood, there were two drinks on the table, and Tadhg was sitting across from me with a half smile.

It begins.

“So the barman recommended—” he started.

“I don’t have gonorrhea.”

He froze. His eyes widened a fraction at a time until they were the size of saucers. “Excuse me?” His voice was low. He didn’t want others to hear.

I leaned in closer and lowered my voice too, not because I was embarrassed of not having gonorrhea, but out of respect. “I don’t have anything. You know. Like, we should have talked about it. We should have used a condom, but we didn’t. So I wanted you to know that I got tested before I left, and everything’s all clean in there. In case you were worried.”

“Oh, I uh—”

“And I have an IUD, so you know. You don’t have to . . . unless your guys are like super-tenacious!” I laughed. He did not. “I jest. That was a joke. Glad that’s out of the way. Right? Whew! It’s like, you know, in case you were worried.” Get to the point!

He had to put a hand up to stop me. “I gotcha, Maya. Please.” He looked like he was trying to swallow down a hot coal. He hated this.