Page 7 of The Plus One Pact

Too bad it's all a lie.

"Have you thought about trying Tinder again, Ives?" Meredith asks.

I went on three Tinder dates. I chickened out of two of them. The third was the worst sex I've ever had. Awkward, cold, uncomfortable. I didn't follow any of my own advice. I pressured myself to have sex, because after all, I'm a single woman now, and isn't that the best way to get over someone?

So, I went to the guy's apartment, and I kissed him and he took his dick out—

Really, just like that—

And I went with it. Why not? It could be fun.

Maybe Meredith would have had fun.

I didn't.

I practically ran out of the guy's apartment after.

He had no idea I had a bad time. He invited me on a second date. He wanted to see me again. He thought I’d want to see him again.

Are all men that oblivious or am I that bad at picking a good one?

"What if we just message someone on an app?" she asks. "We could flirt. Send pictures even. That could be fun. We could even do an episode on early dating flirting. How do you keep it spicy without going into full on sexting?" She stretches her arms over her head, pulling her short dress up her legs. She's dressed the way she always is—like a cool chick on an indefinite vacation. Her pale blue dress and white sneakers look just right against her tan skin too.

She always knows exactly what to wear.

She always knows, well, everything.

Like me, Meredith doesn't fit into the sterile suburbs. Unlike me, she doesn't even let it hinder her. She flies her freak flag proudly.

She'd happily share her dirty stories as hers. In fact, that was the original version of the podcast. The sex therapist and her freaky friend. One professional. One highly experienced amateur.

We started the podcast as a lark. Because we got so many comments on our dynamic. Because we both needed a way to look at sex more objectively.

And we both fell in love, right away.

We didn’t take off immediately, but we did well enough.

Then, one week, she was out sick, and I shared a story on her behalf, and we took off. People loved the idea of the sultry sex therapist. A woman who gives professional advice and knows from experience.

She lent me her stories, and I shared them as my own.

It was supposed to be a short-term thing. I had a husband. He was available as a test subject for any experimentation. In theory.

Only he wasn’t. If I’m honest with myself, that’s why I started the podcast. That’s why I went into this field.

Like so many therapists before me, I decided to solve everyone else’s problems because I couldn’t solve my own. And people had problems.

I knew far before I married him too. I chose this program a year before we got engaged. We got married a year after that. Things worked pretty well when I poured my sexuality into my work and expected nothing from him. Only that wasn’t enough, so I started the show.

And then when that wasn’t enough, and I tried using my sex therapy skills on my relationship, well—

At least I saw the light quickly, when I finally paid attention. After three months of trying, and failing, to connect, I served him papers. The divorce was quick. And painful. And now I have no idea how I ever loved the man, much less stayed for the better part of a decade.

Which was fine. All the better to experiment, right? The divorced sex therapist getting her groove back. It was a perfect pitch…

But I couldn't do it.

I didn't set out to lie.