Page 8 of The Dating Proposal
She rolls her eyes. “I know what the acronym means. But why on earth would you do that? We have better options these days.”
“Sweetie, I know you met Pete online. But he’s the exception.”
Hayden clears her throat. “I met Greg while shopping for a watch for my father. He was shopping for the same watch for himself.”
Erin shoots her a you’ve got to be kidding me look. “You met Greg sixteen years ago.”
Hayden’s jaw drops. “Don’t be an ageist just because I’m nearly ten years older than you ladies.”
Julia pats Hayden’s knee. “Forgive her. She knows not what she does. Plus, we love your wisdom when you share it, and your young-at-heartness too.”
“Thanks. I’ll be right back. Just need to get my dentures.” Hayden rises as if to go.
Erin tugs her back down. “I love you. Just saying, though, you and Greg met before apps were trendy.”
“Guys,” I cut in. “I don’t want to get on the apps. I know there are plenty of successful matches, but I’ve heard horror stories too. Every woman I talk to has an online dating tale that will scar you. Kara from Redwood Ventures, my lead investor, told me about a guy who tried to talk her into a threesome on the first date. A makeup blogger I know went out with a guy she met online, and in the first hour, he tried to recruit her for his pyramid scheme.”
Julia jumps in. “I’ve heard of that. It’s actually becoming a common way for the MLM-ers to bring new recruits in. I hear all those stories, too, at my bar.”
I nod. “My point exactly. Besides, I’m more of an old-school gal. I like my old-time music, and I like the idea of meeting someone in real life. Seeing if there’s chemistry. So here’s my plan—I thought I’d do a little video series. My videos always do best on Insta and online when I make them personal. And I try to be open on those social channels. So why not pair my fashion expertise with dating? It’ll keep me motivated to put myself out there.”
“Since you’re married to work,” Erin puts in.
“Work has been faithful to me,” I add.
“It’s understandable that you’d want to connect your dating quest with business if you can. You’re an online influencer. Your Instagram fashion vids get crazy views,” Julia points out. “So, you’re going to do a what-to-wear-on-dates kind of thing?”
“Well, presuming I find anyone to date. But that’s where you all come in.” I gesture to the three of them. “I want you to set me up with any single guys you know.”
And that’s when my friends lose their ever-loving minds. We’re talking cheers, hoots, hollers, and squeals that threaten to wake up Lena.
Turns out, there is little a pack of happily paired-off women love more than setting up the single friend.
Erin claps. “Yay! I have been counting the days on my calendar until you were finally ready to start dating again. And maybe to bang again.”
“I’ll toast to a good banging,” Hayden adds.
Julia pipes up. “Call me crazy, but I’m going to toast to you falling in love.”
A part of me wants to raise a glass right along with her. To say wistfully, Wouldn’t that be something? Because, really, that would have been everything I wanted once upon a time. I was born a romantic, and bred a romantic.
But I’m not one anymore.
No thanks.
No can do.
Getting left at the altar has a way of torching all your fairy-tale dreams.
I threw them in a bonfire last year, watched them burn to the ground and the ashes blow away in the wind.
I might have moved on. I might have held my head high. But I am not interested in love. No falling, no swooning. Not in any way, shape, or form. Been there, done that, and if I hadn’t returned them, I’d have the KitchenAid mixers to prove it.
I am, however, quite interested in having some clever conversations, a few interesting dates, and a good time. I don’t even mean in bed. I’m not looking to get laid. I just want to have fun.
“Love isn’t in the cards. All I want is to spend some time testing the waters, seeing what’s out there, instead of seeing the sad end of my WebFlix queue,” I say.
Julia sighs. “It is sad when you get to the end of a binge and WebFlix doesn’t even know what to serve you next.”
“It’s the saddest.”
Erin leans in conspiratorially. “I already have someone in mind. One of my massage clients at my spa. He works in advertising, and he’s a cyclist. He’s on the Lemonhead team or something. He comes in once a week. He has a perfect body. Not an ounce of fat on him.”
“I can scope out any of the non-alcoholic hotties at my bar,” Julia offers, and I nod my approval, since bartenders meet lots of men. “There are some guys who work at a tech firm nearby who come in for Thursday darts. One of them is quite funny. His name is Nathaniel, so I’ll work on him.”
