Match This! (The UnSocial Dater#1)

by Mj Fields

  “What, it’s no big deal,” I say as I watch her type in my password.

  My girls know it’s F-U-C-K-O-F-F, they also know I wouldn’t change it after they figured it out because I wouldn’t remember it if I did. Hell, they’re supposed to wipe my electronics clean if shit hits the fan.

  “You have 798 views on your profile,” she says and looks mildly impressed. “Hey, I took that picture of you.”

  “Yeah, it was on my phone.”

  Her eyes light up in amusement as she reads the screen. “You’re trying to get a date with this profile?”

  What the hell, I grumble inwardly. “Sure.”

  “You sound like such a bitch,” she shakes her head.

  “If the broom fits, ride it,” I take a drink and take comfort in the burn of the liquor. It’s far better than the burn of her eyes on my face.

  “Why the hell would you put Wildwood as your hometown?” She looks up at me.

  “Like I want some freak to know where I really live,” I huff.

  “So you’re looking for a booty call,” she states matter-a-factly.

  I shrug in response.

  She shakes her head and waves her hand to the bartender. “Two more.”

  Jinx, the bartender walks over with a shit ass grin on his face, his blue eyes staring into mine. He’s looking at me like he knows me, and well, he does, in the biblical sense.

  His uncle owns the bar and he fills in once in a while, I didn’t know this until after one drunken Throwdown Thursday. I was drunk, his multicolored mohawk looked good.

  “’Sup Kat,” he says as he sets the glasses down and grips the edge of the bar.

  Macey chuckles and I kick her.

  “Weren’t you in jail or something?” I ask nonchalantly taking a drink then setting it down.

  “Are we role playing again?” He winks at me. “I’ve been gone a long time Kat. You’ve been missing me huh?”

  His cousin, Joey, the bar back chuckles.

  “No, not really.” I take a drink and set it down. “Guys who like ass action via a strap-on have never been my thing.”

  “Excuse me?” Jinx asks trying to seem casual but his face turns red.

  “You know, ‘Oh Kat, fuck my flat little white boy ass’—”

  “Bullshit,” he growls.

  “Your ass is flat man,” Joey laughs out loud.

  “That’s bullshit and you know it.” Jinx narrows his eyes at me and I shrug. He gets pissed and Macey laughs the deep dark laugh that reminds me of the Red Queen.

  “I don’t like ass action,” Jinx hisses at his cousin who is balled over laughing his fool head off. “Kat, tell him the truth.”

  “You sure about that?” I ask.

  He looks at me like I’m deft or something and when my expression doesn’t change he looks a little intimidated.

  “Fine,” I say standing up, grabbing my drink, snatching my phone away from Macey. “He doesn’t ‘like’ ass action, he loves it.”

  Do you know how hard it is not to laugh, not even crack a smile when someone is laughing as hard as Joey is? It’s fucking hard.

  “God you’re a bitch,” Jinx says to my back as I walk to a booth away from the bar.

  Macey sits down and smirks. “Does he like ass action?”

  “Why, does that get you hot?”

  “I’m not sure,” she answers honestly.

  “Not that I’m complaining but the fool likes his whiskey.”

  “Whiskey dick? Oh fuck that.” She glares at him from across the room.

  He gives her the ‘what’ look and I shake my head.

  “Between you and I it didn’t much matter to me, he likes to eat pussy, so it’s all good.”

  “But is he sloppy?”

  I shrug. “Like I remember, I was always two sheets to the wind.”

  My phone vibrates in my hand and I look down.

  Alerts and notifications are pinging like crazy. I swipe the bar on the phone and open the app. Message alerts?

  I look at Macey. “You need to subscribe to see what they responded.” She takes a drink and settles back.

  “You didn’t?” I gasp.

  “Hell yes I did.” She nods proudly.

  I shake my head. “I have to pay for this shit?”

  Sure enough I do, and because Macey insisted and Jack Daniels had me feeling some sort of way, I paid with that damn Apple app.

  As soon as I hit pay Macey snatches it, sets it between us, and starts opening messages.

  “@heartbroken326 says he thinks you’re beautiful and would like to meet up tonight,” she says as she scrolls through the picture of a guy holding a fish.

  “He’s got a kid,” I say.

  “Please tell me that’s not the only thing you see wrong with the fucker,” Macey says with a smirk.

  “Well, the fact that he’s five foot three doesn’t help, but the kids a no-go.”

  I’m allergic to kids.

  His response is immediate, I only have them a couple days a week.

  I reply, Why?

  His response, They don’t like me.

  Macey and I laugh at that.

  I reply, Why?

  His response, Their mother has brainwashed them.

  I reply, I’m allergic to assholes who think they’ve done no wrong.

  “Oh my God Kat,” Macey gasps.

  “What?”

  “Bitches can be trifling you know.”

  He responds, I won’t be an asshole to you.

  I don’t respond.

  “Well say something.” Macey actually seems excited about this shit.

  “Okay, I’ll give him your number,” I say as I start to type it in.

  “I will cut you,” she says snatching it away.

  She opens the next. “@ herdsman356, says you are one hot and sassy babe.”

  I grab the phone and look at him. “Not bad,” I shrug and scroll through his profile.

  @herdsman356 is a contractor, he’s five foot eleven and has a bit of a receding hairline.

  “So?” Macey asks.

  “I have an issue with his hair,” I answer and set the phone down.

  “Well let’s hear it.” She drains her drink and holds the empty up.

  I look up thinking she’s crazy, we’re in a damn corner there’s no way he’ll see her even if the bar has only a couple dozen people in it.

  “I have nothing against bald men, some are hot, but it’s like this guy’s hairline is screaming, Twenty One Pilots.”

  “What the fuck are you talking about?”

  “He wants to turn back time to the good old days.” I say repeating the lyrics to Stressed Out, by Twenty One Pilots.

  “Kat, what the fuck are you talking about?”

  “Shave the shit and move on. Wake up you need to shave it off, yo.” I shake my head.

  I see Jinx coming over with drinks in hand, he’s scowling at me.

  I ignore him.

  “Kat,” he says leaning in close enough that I can’t possibly pretend he isn’t here.

  “Jinx,” I say turning towards him.

  “You gonna let me off the hook and go tell Joey I don’t like strap-ons?”

  “Let it go Jinx. I did.”

  “It was good though yeah?”

  “I’d rather masturbate than be with you,” I answer and turn so my back is to him.

  Macey laughs out loud.

  “Twat,” he says to my back.

  I smile inwardly knowing he gets it.

  “It’s bitch,” I reply.

  The more we drink the more responses we send to the twenty plus messages I have on Match.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Sexy Saturday

  I wake up to a hellacious headache and the only thing that makes life worth living at this moment is the smell of bacon.

  I roll over and look at my phone to see the time and there are thirty-seven message notifications and it’s only seven in the morning on a fucking Saturday.

  I throw my fe
et over the bed and grab my black robe with the glittery number 69 on the back before facing my day…my Mom-ster.

  While walking down the stairs I read some of the responses to Macey and my online man-ssacre.

  Jesuet4638: What are you looking for in a man?

  Kat: Usually a bullet.

  Macey sent that one, he didn’t respond.

  JONA227: What are my chances with a hot feisty babe like you?

  Kat: On a scale of 1-10, you’re a no.

  Boboh2: How are you today?

  Kat: Horrible, I just found out I have an STD.

  I snorted when I send it.

  He didn’t reply.

  HOWDY342: I want to make you scream.

  Kat: Mission complete.

  Macey responded as me.

  HOWDY342: That easy huh?

  Kat: The pictured did it, you’re one ugly motherfucker.

  I yelled at her for that, then laughed.

  I can’t read anymore, but this may actually be fun…when the headache goes away.

  I set the phone next to Mom’s and yes, I steal a glance. She has seventy-three notifications. Huh, I think.

  I look around and she’s not in the room, so I pick it up. I don’t think it’s being nosey, the woman read my diary when I was sixteen for fuck’s sake.

  I thumb through and see one conversation had at least sixty messages.

  The man’s name is Lance, and he is married. Apparently he is waiting for his child to graduate from high school to leave his wife, who apparently cheated on him. My mom messages him that it’s admirable and that she wishes him luck.

  The conversation doesn’t stop there, as it should.

  He tells her he has never been attracted to anyone like he is to her. She tells him she’s flattered. He tells her he’s almost embarrassed to tell her that he sometimes gets hard when he thinks about her. She tells him that it’s a natural reaction to an attraction and he shouldn’t be embarrassed. He tells her that he appreciates it but it feels wrong. A woman like her should be shown that they make a man feel like that and not told. She doesn’t reply for a couple days. He messages her that he didn’t mean to offend her but it’s her fault that his body reacts that way. It’s her fault that after a year of not ever wanting to touch a woman he finds himself unable to stop thinking about her. She replies that she’s sorry, and that if it makes him feel better she thinks about him too.

  He tells her he’s touching himself right now and thinking about her. She tells him she doesn’t feel comfortable with the conversation. It feels wrong. He tells her nothing about him and he feels wrong and asks her to send him a picture via text and leaves his number.

  The messages end there.

  I look up as my Mom walks in.

  I don’t try to hide the fact that I’m looking through her phone, and she doesn’t seem upset.

  “Lance?” I ask setting it down.

  She stops toweling her hair and shrugs. “He’s a nice man.”

  “He’s married,” I remind her.

  “Unhappily. His wife—”

  “I know I read it. Did you actually give him your number?” I ask turning around and grabbing a cup off the counter.

  “Yes, I did.”

  “Did you send him pics?”

  “Pictures? Yes.”

  “Do you even know anything about him aside from the fact that he is Lance and gets hard thinking about you?”

  “I know his last name is Sealy, and—”

  She stops when I open up her Facebook app and search his name. His name doesn’t come up as Lance Sealy I scroll through the suggestions and find a James Sealy.

  “Does he have an identical twin?” I ask as I click on the profile page.

  “No,” she says and walks over, sets the towel down and looks over my shoulder at the screen.

  “That him?”

  She doesn’t answer, just looks at the pictures as I scroll through them slowly.

  James Sealy is an accounts manager for IBS Incorporated, he appears happily married and has three children.

  “Why would someone do that?” she asks.

  I laugh. “Mom, he said he’s married.”

  Her face turns bright red and I feel sick to my stomach. “Did you send him pictures?”

  “I don’t want to talk about it anymore.” She grabs the phone and turns her back to me.

  “You asked for my help.”

  “I know I did Katherine, it’s just,” she pauses, “what is wrong with people?”

  I laugh and she turns around and her frown starts to turn upside down.

  “It’s not a big deal Mom, just get more information from them before giving them any of yours.”

  I shower and get ready for my day. Every time I walk by my mom she is scowling at her phone. At first I feel pretty bad for her, and then I decide not to.

  Her phone rings and she answers it in a very chipper tone that doesn’t mirror the one she’s been toting around all morning.

  “Hey baby, how are you? Is everything okay?”

  She listens intently and then looks up at me and smiles.

  “Early? Wow why, what’s—” She stops and a concerned look crosses her eyes. “He’s what?”

  Again she listens and then nods her head like the person on the other end can see her.

  “Mom, they can’t see you agreeing,” I say and I begin walking away.

  “Yes, it’s Kat. Hold on a minute.” I turn back and she’s holding her phone out, then pulls her reading glasses down, I assume so she can see better.

  “I don’t know where it is,” she yells into the phone, then holds it to her ear. “Oh yes right.” She holds the phone out. “Can you put this on speaker. Darby wants to say hi.”

  “Hi Kat,” she says quietly.

  “Hey Darby, did I hear you’re coming home from Italy early?”

  “Yep, Dad is thinking about closing his accounting firm and going back to work for the church,” she says.

  “Will the Catholics let him back in after he divorced them?” I joke.

  Mom doesn’t look amused and Darby doesn’t say anything.

  I shrug. “Tough crowd.”

  “They need to get divorced first.” I swear Darby’s voice cracks.

  “It happens Darby,” I say in a softer tone than I used before.

  Darby is the only person I have ever really let in. She’s the one person I will answer a question in a way that allows for feelings to seep in for. She is my sister. She is my sister who has an overbearing mother who drives her crazy and a father who dotes after her like she is a little princess and I love that about them.

  “I gotta go, see you in a week,” she says.

  “I love you Darby.” The sadness in Mom’s voice mimics hers.

  “Love you Darby,” I say.

  “Love you both,” she says quietly and then hangs up.

  “What did you do to her?” I question my mother.

  “Excuse me?” Mom acts dumbfounded.

  “Darby, what the hell happened to her?”

  Mom stands up from her chair and walks past me. “Darby,” she stops and turns around, looks at me, and says, “she’s been through a lot.”

  “What?”

  “Katherine,” she sighs and leans against the counter.

  “Mom,” I sigh dramatically in response.

  The silence is deafening.

  “Mom?”

  “She, she had a bad year. She fell into the wrong crowd, started doing some very bad things—”

  I interrupt, “What kind of bad things?”

  Bad things to my mother were things like climbing a tree, slurping your cereal bowl’s excess milk, not finishing your dinner because, ‘There are kids starving all over the world.’

  I blame her for my chubby phase that lasted until I was a senior in high school.

  She looks at me and then away. She chews on her lip for a minute and then peers out the corner of her eye towards me, and sighs.

  “You can’t say any
thing to your sister or anyone else.”

  “Who am I going to tell?” I ask.

  “I want a promise you won’t say a word to Darby.”

  “Mom—”

  “No Katherine, she is my daughter.”

  “Really? I wasn’t aware.”

  “Look, I allowed you to push me away, I allowed it and I regret it. Unfortunately, I was young, naïve, and scared to death I was going to fail you for the first several years of your life. Then your father had to go and die—”

  Unable to hold it back I laugh, and it’s not a ha ha laugh, it’s an angry laugh.

  I’ve heard her say that phrase ‘had to go and die,’ too many damn times in my life, and I had become accustomed to ignoring the accusatory tone in her voice directed at my father for so fucking long that it even shocked me that I let it out, but fuck if it didn’t feel good. “Like he had a choice Mom, that’s why they call it an accident!”

  “He had a choice Katherine. He had a choice whether or not to stop at the bar for an hour to unwind every day after work, and that particular day, he made the choice to stay for three hours.” As soon as the words leave her mouth I see regret on her face immediately.

  We look at each other speechless, I know she is wishing she hadn’t let that fucking cat out of the bag and she knows her words cut me deep.

  She shrugs, then shakes her head and whispers, “I’m sorry Katherine, but he had a choice.”

  Unable to speak, unwilling to let my emotions to get the best of me, and unbelievably angry I nod and walk away. She doesn’t follow.

  I lay on the bed holding the book he had given me the day I fell out of that damn tree to my chest. I hold it tight, somehow believing the pressure will stop my heart from beating out of my body. Believing that if I just hold it tight, inside of me the pain will pass.

  I look towards the door when she walks in. “I’m sorry that’s the way you found out.”

  I don’t want to talk about it. Not with anyone, especially not with her.

  “What’s going on with Darby?”

  CHAPTER NINE

  Better Be Sexy Saturday

  I forgot to bring coffee from Dunkin’ Donuts, which means I had no coffee. It’s a big fucking deal and because of that, work blew. I’m aware it was because of my un-caffeinated mood, and so were the guys. They avoided me like the plague, which was perfect.