No More Terrible Dates

by Kate O'Keeffe

  “Seriously, you guys kill me,” I reply. “And I still don’t get why you’re all sitting in the back. It makes me feel like a chauffeur.”

  “Oh, you need the hat to be a proper chauffeur, babe,” Sophie says.

  “Ooooh, Darcy would look good in the hat,” Erin chirps.

  “True,” Sophie confirms with a nod. “You would totally rock that look, Darce.”

  Jason leans forward. “Don’t listen to them, Darce. You know you’d get really bad hat hair.”

  “Jason!” Sophie and Erin both shriek.

  Although I’m not looking in the rearview mirror at them (drivers really do need to keep their eyes on the road, you know, particularly when they’ve left the familiarity of the city behind and are in unchartered rural territory), I’m certain he gets a good slap on the arm from his girlfriend.

  “What?” he says. “Girls are weird about that kind of stuff.”

  “So are guys,” Sophie replies.

  “No, we’re not,” he huffs.

  “Oh, I know. You’re too busy thinking about how to solve global warming and lower the rate of youth unemployment to bother with such things as hat hair, right?” Sophie says. I can hear her hands placed firmly on her hips by the tone of her voice.

  Erin chortles. “Let’s see how you look with flat hair, Jas.”

  “Hey, leave the hair alone!” he protests.

  I glance in the rearview mirror to see Erin slap her hand down on top of his head, his locks instantly plastered to his head.

  “Settle down, you three.” I feel like a mom telling off her naughty kids.

  “Yeah, Jas,” Sophie says.

  “What?” he protests.

  I turn onto a gravel road and pass under a semi-circular sign that reads “Windsor Equestrian” in gold lettering against a dark green background. The sign matches the grandeur of the place, and I feel a thrill of excitement at the prospect of seeing Seth on his horse, looking every bit the dashing gentleman.

  The gravel crunches beneath the tires, but I don’t think my bickering “children” have even noticed we’ve turned off the main road yet. “You guys, we’re here,” I announce.

  “We are?” Sophie says in surprise as she peers out the window.

  “Where are all the horse floats?” Erin asks. “I thought there would be loads of things like floats and horses—”

  “And cute guys in riding boots, right, Erin?” Sophie says as I pull on the handbrake and turn off the ignition.

  “I’m not the one into horsey guys,” Erin protests. “That’s Darcy’s thang.”

  “Excuse me. I don’t have a thang,” I sniff. “And if I did, I wouldn’t call it that.”

  “Oh, you so do, babe,” Erin says. “Tell me what you were thinking about just now.”

  I twist my mouth and let out a sigh. “I was thinking about Seth riding his horse. But it’s only because of where we are. I mean, come on.” I gesture around.

  “Totally busted!” Erin trills.

  “Personally, I’m offended at the way you’re objectifying men,” Jason sniffs. “We have thoughts and feelings, too, you know.”

  “You’re so right, Jason. Men have had such a hard time throughout history, haven’t they, ladies?” Sophie says.

  “Yeah, our hearts bleed for you guys,” I reply as I peer out of the windscreen at the imposing building looming above us. “This place is impressive. Tonight must be a really important event.”

  “I bet Seth’s the Prince William of show jumping,” Sophie says as we climb out of the car.

  “Oh, I’m sure he is,” Erin confirms confidently.

  “Does Prince William show jump? I thought he was a helicopter man,” Jason says as he slams his door shut.

  “Not literally,” Sophie protests. “Come on, Christie. Get with the program.”

  “You see, that’s the problem. I’m not one hundred percent sure what the program is,” he complains.

  As we walk to the building, I feel the seeds of a small smile on my lips. Hmmm, I like the sound of that. “The Prince William of show jumping” has a certain ring to it, a ring I could get used to, even if I have a feeling Jason’s right in that the real Prince William favors helicopters to horses.

  “What’s Seth like?” Jason asks as we walk up a flight of steps and in through the main doors.

  “Oh, he’s a great guy. He’s really sweet and smart,” I reply. And not in love with a woman in India, I add to myself. The vital point of difference between Seth and Alex.

  “Don’t forget he looks like he could be related to a movie star,” Sophie says.

  “Really? Which one?” Jason asks.

  “Bradley Cooper,” all three of us reply.

  “Only without those super blue eyes of his,” I add.

  Jason shakes his head. “I don’t get the whole women lusting after Bradley Cooper thing. He looks like a regular guy to me, not a movie star. But if that’s what floats your boat, then go for it, Darce.”

  Sophie slinks her arm around her boyfriend’s waist. “Did you just give Darcy and Seth your blessing?”

  Jason grins at her. “I gave Darcy and some guy who looks like Bradley Cooper my blessing. The jury’s still out on Seth, because you girls didn’t want me at the Vetting. Remember?”

  “You wanted to hang out with Alex!” Sophie protests, indignant.

  At the mention of his name, my body stiffens. I’m not going to think about him. Tonight is all about Seth.

  “It’s true,” Sophie says. “We put in the hard work vetting Seth while you and your new BFF bonded over drinks and a game of pool.”

  “That was a good night,” Jason says with a far off look in his eyes. “Well, it was until Alex got a call from his ex and he left early.”

  My interest peaked, I ask, “He did?”

  “Yup. By the look on his face he didn’t exactly enjoy the reunion, either,” Jason says.

  I turn this new information over in my brain. I went to Alex’s apartment the morning after we vetted Seth, the night Jason’s talking about. I recall him saying he needed extra caffeine, and I assumed it was from a late night out with Jason. I bet it was Chetana who called, breaking his poor heart all over again.

  Sophie shakes her head. “You two guys should date. #Bromance.”

  “What’s wrong with a couple of guys getting together over a beer or two and finding that they get on?” he protests. “Alex is a great guy.”

  I’ve had enough of this conversation. I can’t think about Alex, not tonight. Not when I’m trying to focus on my relationship with Seth. I spot a desk with a line of people. “You guys? The entry is over here.”

  We walk toward the line of people and wait patiently until someone behind a desk looks up at me and says, “Tickets, please.”

  Like the designated mom I am on this trip, I pull our tickets out of my purse, and she gives us instructions on where to find our seats. Once inside the arena, I look around. It’s abuzz with excited chatter, and the stage is littered with jumps of various sizes, and I feel a surge of excitement at the prospect of seeing Seth riding his horse around the course, leaping over jumps to appreciative applause.

  As we take our seats, Sophie says, “Those jumps are really low, aren’t they?”

  “Maybe they’re for ponies or something?” Erin suggests.

  “I hope so. I love ponies.” I look around and notice something unusual about the crowd. I tilt my head toward my friends and say, “Has anyone else noticed this place is full of tweens?”

  “Oh, my God, yes! I totally noticed that,” Erin replies. “I feel like we’re in the Never-Never Land between moms and their eleven-year-old girls. Too young to be the moms, too old to be the kids. What is with that?”

  I lift my shoulders. “I guess a lot of girls love horses. I know I sure did when I was a girl.”

  “I bet you had horse pics all over your walls, right?” Jason asks.

  “Oh, Darcy was the queen of My Little Ponies, right, Darce? You told us you had all o
f them,” Sophie says.

  “I had a few, I guess.” No need to give away that not only did I have all the My Little Ponies you could get, but I had the posters, the movie DVDs, the hairclips, basically all things My Little Pony. It’s fair to say I was a little obsessed.

  Music blares from loudspeakers, and I feel a shiver of anticipation. I’m about to see Seth ride his horse. He’ll ride beautifully, probably even win, and he’ll look magnificent, and I’ll swoon in his arms and be “Alex who?”

  “Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls,” the announcer begins, “welcome to the third annual Windsor Equestrian Horse Parade!”

  We applaud as the girls in the audience go crazy with squeals of delight, half of them leaping out of their seats with joy.

  Sophie nudges me. “Ah, to be a ten-year-old again.”

  The music starts up again and a line of girls in sparkling costumes, some dressed in equestrian clothes, others in leotards and capes and princess costumes, come running out, holding hobbyhorses.

  “Oh, how cute!” Erin exclaims. “Do you think they’re going to jump over those things as they hold their toys?”

  I watch the girls as they line up. “I think so. You know, I had a hobbyhorse,” I say as nostalgia hits me in the chest. “I would have loved to have done this when I was a kid.”

  “You still could,” Sophie replies with a grin.

  I roll my eyes. “Yeah, because it wouldn’t be weird to run around on a hobbyhorse as a fully-grown woman.”

  “Whatever gets you going,” Jason says with a waggle of his eyebrows.

  I return my attention to the stage. As the MC announces each girl, they hop and prance and twirl, waving at the audience, huge grins on their faces.

  Warmth spreads across my chest. “They are having the times of their lives.”

  The first competitor is announced, and the auditorium falls into silence. She pauses for a moment then takes off, bobbing her hobbyhorse up and down as she leaps over each and every jump with ease. I’m certain her long legs had a lot to do with her success, possibly an unfair advantage in the world of hobbyhorsing. Once she’s finished the course, she waves to the audience to excited squeals and cheers—mainly from the tweens, but I admit, we begin to get into the spirit, and whoop and shriek along with the best of them.

  The next girl starts her round and is doing super well, until she bumbles one of the higher jumps and ends up flat on her face on the ground. The audience collectively holds its breath until she pops back up, a wonky smile on her face, and hobbles to the finish line.

  After all the girls have completed their rounds, they ride their hobbyhorses out of the arena to much applause.

  “When do you think the real show will begin?” Erin asks me.

  I nod at the stage. “They’re adding another level to the jumps, so I guess soon. I can’t wait to see Seth.”

  Mr. Darcy, here I come.

  The MC announces that the next round is about to begin, and I prepare myself for the real horses. Watching hobbyhorses ridden by cute kids is all very well, but it’s not the reason we’re here.

  As the music blares, I turn to my friends and say, “This must be it.”

  I feel a swell of anticipation as I focus on the entrance. After what feels like long enough to sing my favorite ABBA song, a fresh batch of hobbyhorse riders gallop out onto the stage.

  I crinkle my brow. “We must be stuck in the pre-show entertainment.”

  “I’m sure the real horses will be next. I’m sure of it,” Erin says.

  And that’s when I see him.

  He comes galloping out, his face aglow with happiness, dressed in full equestrian clothing, looking every inch the show jumping man of my dreams. My jaw hits the floor with a clank, and I blink.

  Then I blink again.

  There’s something very wrong with this image. Seth’s horse is not a horse. In fact, it’s not anything but a bit of stuffing attached to a stick. He’s . . . he’s riding a hobbyhorse.

  No no no no no.

  This cannot be happening.

  A heavy brick drops down to my belly. I gape at my friends. They gape back at me, equally agog, our mouths forming a line of perfect “o’s.” None of us quite believe our eyes.

  “But—” I begin, my mind searching for an answer, any answer, other than what has become glaringly obvious for all to see.

  “Your boyfriend’s horse is a kid’s toy?” Sophie says, her voice riddled with incredulity.

  I watch through disbelieving eyes as Seth joins the line of girls to wait his turn. Unless this is some sort of weird practice run show jumpers with actual horses do before they pull the real thing out, the evidence before us tells me the answer is a big, humiliating, and totally unexpected yes. Seth’s horse is a hobbyhorse. Fin is a toy, not a real horse.

  I swallow, my throat tight. Seth told me he wanted me to “meet” his hobbyhorse.

  Oh. My. God.

  The MC announces the first competitor, a girl of about twelve or thirteen, who takes off, bounding over the jumps with elegant ease. I look back at Seth. He beams up at me, as if him standing in a sea of girls holding stuffed toys on sticks in the middle of a horse arena is a perfectly normal thing for a twenty-something-year-old man to do. He lifts his hand and waves at me.

  On automatic pilot, I wave back.

  And then, his name is called, and he gallops over to the start line.

  “Oh, my God,” Erin mutters beneath her breath. “He’s really going to do this.”

  “Yup,” Sophie confirms with a grim nod. She turns to me. “Did you know about this?”

  I shake my head, dumbfounded, but I don’t look at my friends. I can’t. I built Seth’s show jumping prowess up. I told them how amazing he was going to be. And now look at him.

  This is like a sick dream I want to wake up from, and it’s almost impossible to tear my eyes away from the surreal scene unfolding before our eyes.

  As he begins his run, humiliation curls its long tendrils around me, and I shrink down in my seat. He takes the first jump, and the crowd applauds. He continues around the entire course, confidently leaping over each jump, a look of deep concentration on his face.

  “Well, I’ll give him something, Darcy. He’s good,” Jason comments.

  I swallow down a rising lump. The guy I’m dating is good at riding a hobbyhorse. Now there’s a thought I never thought I would have.

  As I watch him leap over jumps and prance around like this is a real show jumping event, any shred of hope I was clinging onto that Seth and I could have a proper relationship floats away into the arena, replaced by the all-too-familiar feelings in the world of dating: disappointment and regret.

  Chapter 20

  For some reason unknown to us all, we sit through the entire performance. Maybe it’s a car crash reality TV thing, or maybe our brains haven’t caught up with our eyes. Who knows? But here we sit, watching as Seth and his hobbyhorse complete their first course then prance out of the arena before the next group gallops into view.

  “What just happened?” Erin’s eyes are huge as she looks from Sophie to Jason and then to me.

  “I’m not really sure,” I reply, too stunned to put my thoughts into words.

  “Yeah. It was.” Sophie pulls a face. “It was not what I was expecting.”

  “Well, I’ve learned something tonight,” Jason says.

  “What?” Sophie asks.

  “Darcy’s boyfriend likes to ride stuffed animals on a stick in front of tweens,” he says with a laugh.

  “He’s not my boyfriend,” I protest.

  “Well, not now, he’s not,” Sophie says with a laugh that comes out as a pig-like snort. Her face grows serious. “Unless you want him to be?”

  I shake my head. “I don’t think he can come back from this as far as I’m concerned.”

  “Am I allowed to say that he looked really funny?” Erin presses her lips together, her eyes shining. She’s working hard not to laugh. Before long, she’s begun to giggl
e, and it spreads among us all like wildfire on a hot summer’s day. All four of us clutch our sides in laughter, and people in the audience begin to turn and glare at us.

  “I think we need to leave. Now.” I pop out of my seat, my hand over my mouth in a vain attempt to stifle more laughter, and hurry toward the exit, trailed by my friends.

  Once outside, a fresh wave of laughter rocks us. But for me, after a while, a hollow feeling begins to grow inside. I’d pinned my hopes on Seth. I thought he might be one of the good ones. Attraction is such a fragile thing. You can spend hours and hours building it up, imagining what it would be like to be with a guy, hoping he feels the same way, too. And then along comes a sharp, pointy thing that pops the bubble, and the very last thing you want to do is be within a mile of that guy.

  It’s fair to say any bubble I had for Seth has been well and truly popped by a stuffed toy on the end of a stick, currently being held between his legs as he leaps over jumps.

  “I think we all deserve a stiff drink after that experience,” Jason announces. “Don’t you?”

  There’s a murmur of agreement among my friends.

  Although a glass of Chardonnay could help to wash away my sense of disappointment and confusion, I scrunch up my nose. “I think I need to go talk to Seth first.”

  “To compliment him on his show jumping skills?” Sophie asks with a grin. “Or to pet his horsey?”

  “At least he was good,” Erin says. “He might win the whole thing.”

  “Of course he will,” Jason scoffs. “He’s a grown man competing against kids. There’s no contest.”

  I scrunch my eyes shut. “Please don’t remind me.”

  Sophie stretches out her hand. “Give me the keys. We’ll wait in the car until you’ve talked to him.”

  I rummage around in my purse and pull my keys out. “Maybe he did it as a dare?” I know I’m grasping at straws here.

  Erin smiles kindly at me. “You may be right, Darce. Or there could be actual living, breathing horses back there, and we’re missing him riding on one right now.”

  “Is that a horse I see flying up there between the clouds,” Jason says, his upturned face looking skyward.