Maybe that was the problem. Maybe I should have gotten a little personal. Thinking back now, I asked surface questions. What do you enjoy doing in your free time? Are you close with your family? What are you studying in college?
Yeah, job interview. Ugh!
I cannot screw this up. Sure, this is a different situation and the questions need to be on a more personal level. Still, I can see myself asking question after question, seeking answers. That's what I love about my job. Asking questions and getting answers. I have a thirst for knowledge.
Hopefully, my dinner with this guy will quench my thirst for romantic knowledge. My success or failure could depend on it.
Dear Maggie,
* * *
It's been almost a year since my husband and I got divorced. We were happily married for almost ten years, and then something between us died. The thing is, I'm still in love with him. I'm not over our relationship, and I can't move on. As far as I know, he's not seeing anyone. Would it be crazy for us to start over again? We have two children to consider in all this.
* * *
~Jess
Jess,
* * *
Starting over is never a bad idea, but you need to talk about it first. It has to be what you both want, and you both need to commit to it. Figure out what died between the two of you. If you dive head first back into the same routine that killed your marriage, things won't change and you'll be back in the same place you are right now. As for your kids, depending on their ages, you should probably sit them down and talk to them. I'm sure they would rather have their parents together than apart, especially if they took the divorce hard. At the end of the day, it's about what makes you happy. If it's not getting back together with your ex-husband, you'll know it and you'll have to find a way to move on. Best of luck!
* * *
~Magg
ie
6
Lauren
Thank goodness for years of Dear Maggie questions. When that question came across my desk yesterday as THE question Mr. Phelps wanted to address in this week’s first column, I almost shit my pants.
What do I know about marriage? Or divorce?
Sure, my parents have been happily married for almost thirty years. Have I studied them? No. Do I know what it takes to make a marriage work? Certainly not.
As far as divorces, I have no experience there.
Even Abby was stumped. Her advice was to tell her to listen to her heart. Sure, that's great advice, but not an answer to her question. So, I dove into the archives, pulled bits and pieces from various columns over the past few years, and put it all together.
Mr. Phelps was happy.
The column received rave reviews.
One more down, nine to go. The light at the end of the tunnel is getting closer.
On top of all that, I'm going out with the guy who messaged me from the dating site tonight. He's taking me to a place called Blue Top Tavern. It's only a few blocks from work, so we’re meeting as soon as I get done for the day. He doesn't know I work for the Daily News so I was surprised he picked somewhere close by chance.
As soon as I’m done for the day, I slip into the bathroom to freshen up my makeup, reapply my bright red lipstick, and run my fingers through my hair before I leave the office. Changing into something less work appropriate and more "date" appropriate, I get a few sideways glances on my way to the elevator. My red, split-sleeve blouse dips low in the front, but not enough to show too much. My A-line shirt falls above my knees, but I can bend over and know, with confidence, my ass is still covered. Maybe it's that they've never seen me in heels before.
It doesn't matter. No one, not one person, has bothered to get to know me. In fact, most days, I feel like I’m invisible. They don't speak to me unless they need something from Maggie. Someone was talking about me in the copy room the other day when I walked by. I thought about stopping, poking my head in to say hi, but I didn't. I'm not a fan of confrontation and, as much as I haven't made friends yet, I don't need to make enemies.
Walking into the Blue Top, my nerves kick into high gear. Scanning the room, I notice my date isn't here. I'm early, so I find a table and wait. A middle-aged waitress comes over and takes my drink order, asking for my ID when I ask for a tall whiskey and coke.
"California?" she asks, handing me back my license.
"Yep. Born and raised."
"What are you doing here?"
"Work. At least for a year."
"Well, hun, I hope you know what you're in for here in a few months. Winter around here is no joke. My advice, invest in the thickest coat you can find. We tend to dip below freezing a lot."
Without waiting for my reply, she walks away to get my drink. I knew winter was a thing when I took the job. Abby and I went shopping before I left. I picked up a few sweatshirts, a sweater, a jacket and some gloves. It sounds to me like I need to reevaluate my wardrobe before the snow starts to fall. The jacket I bought wasn't thick at all, but it sure is pretty.
"You look sad," a deep voice says, breaking my train of thought. Looking up I find that my date has arrived.
His profile picture doesn't do him justice. Either it's the five o'clock shadow drawing my attention or that he's wearing a suit. I suddenly feel underdressed for our meeting, but there's nothing I can do about it now.
"Sorry. I was just thinking about a few things." Standing, I extend my hand to him, hitting the underside of the table with my knee. Thankfully, there’s nothing breakable since the entire table shifts. "Lauren."
"Nice to meet you, Lauren," he says, ignoring my clumsiness. "Kyle."
"Nice to meet you, too. Have a seat. The waitress should be back in a minute with my drink. I wasn't sure what you would want, so I didn’t order you anything."
I’m rambling. I need to stop, but I’m suddenly more nervous than I expected to be. I knew he was good looking, but this is ridiculous.
"No problem."
Silence falls as we wait for the waitress to return. A million questions run through my mind, but I refrain from asking any of them. I promised myself that I wouldn't interrogate him. I promised this wouldn't turn out like last time. I'm not "interviewing" him. This needs to be natural.
I'm nervous. That's natural.
"So," he begins, "are you as weirded out by this as I am?"
"Yep. I hate to say it, but I'm glad it's not just me." That’s a huge weight lifted off my shoulders. At least I’m not the only one who’s uncomfortable with this situation. That also tells me that he doesn’t do this often.
"I have to be honest with you. I wouldn't have even filled out that profile if—"
"Here ya go, hun. What can I get for you, handsome?" the waitress asks, interrupting Kyle.
"Tall light beer."
"Coming right up."
"She didn't card you," I state as she walks away quickly. He looks old enough to drink, and I know he is, but he doesn't look that old. If I were a waitress, I would have asked for his ID.
"Nah. I've been here before," he says, brushing it off.
"So, I'm on your turf?"
"Something like that. So why did you decide to date online? Is it because you’re new to town?"
"Yep. Just trying to get out and meet new people," I reply confidently. Abby and I rehearsed last night. She asked me more questions than necessary so I would be ready for anything. "What about you? You were saying something before the waitress interrupted."
Speaking of the waitress, she appears as if she knew I was talking about her. Placing Kyle's beer in front of him, she reads us the specials and asks if we want an appetizer. Kyle orders fried cheese sticks just to get her to leave. She wasn't going to take no for an answer.
"She's a little pushy," I observe.
"She always is. Anyway, what were we talking about?"
"Why you decided to sign up for online dating."
"Oh, my sister stood over my shoulder and forced me to. It's time I 'got back out there' according to her."
&n
bsp; Hmm. There has to be a good reason his sister is forcing him to date. I can think of ten questions I want to ask, but I stick with the simplest of them all to avoid sounding like the journalist I am.
"Bad break up?"
"Yeah, something like that. Let's just say I've sworn off anything more serious than dinner and drinks for a while."
His tone changes slightly, but he covers it up well. If I wasn't experienced in the art of reading people, dissecting their every word and phrase, I wouldn't have caught it. There's more to his story, but the waitress is back and it's time to order food.
Dear Maggie,
* * *
I'm new to this whole relationship thing and all the expectations that come with it. My last boyfriend and I never moved past kissing. That's part of the reason why our relationship fizzled. The guy I'm seeing now is great, but I can tell he's ready to take things to the next level. Should I tell him I'm still a virgin? I'm afraid he won't want to be with me if he finds out.
* * *
~Sara
Sara,
* * *
If he wants to be with you, being a virgin shouldn't matter to him. The best thing you can do is talk to him. Share with him how you feel about him and where you see your relationship headed. If he doesn't feel the same or has an issue with your virginity, maybe he's not the one. It's better to find out now than to allow yourself to be pressured into something you're not ready for.
* * *
~Maggie
7
Lauren
My date with Kyle turned out to be a lot of fun. After we stuffed ourselves with greasy pub food, he showed me around downtown for a while, and then we parted ways. He asked me if I wanted to hang out again, and I accepted without hesitation, which surprised me. He wants to take me to a place called The Wine Bar. We passed it on our walk, but it wasn't open. It's exclusive. You need a reservation, and they're only open on the weekends.
Tomorrow night, we're meeting there after work to split a bottle of his favorite. I'm not much of a wine drinker, but I'll try anything once.
Abby called me twice while we were walking around. She didn't get the message when I sent her to voicemail the first time. Kyle thought it was funny that she called before I had the chance to put my phone in my purse. Shaking my head, I explained Abby the best I could.
Over-protective. A great friend. Mothering at times. Kind-hearted.
"She sounds a lot like my sister," he said, chuckling to himself.
"Really? And here I thought I was the only one who had a loving, yet annoying, person in my life who thinks they know what's best for me."
"Nope. Sorry, but I have the market cornered on that one. Would Abby show up to your house, uninvited, every Saturday like clockwork, to pressure you to get back on the dating train? My sister does. Every Saturday. At noon. I've learned to set my alarm clock so she doesn't get the jump on me anymore."
Laughing, I covered my mouth, knowing I was about to snort, but I wasn’t quick enough. That caused Kyle to laugh, and I snorted again.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to laugh at you, but that snort was adorable."
"Yeah," I said, attempting to catch my breath before another one escaped. "Real adorable."
After the snorting incident, I was surprised he wanted to get together again.
My excitement died a little when the question for my next column came across my desk.
It was somewhat fitting for my circumstances. I may not be a virgin, but I'm new to the world of dating. Not that Kyle and I are really dating. That's not what either of us is looking for. It's purely platonic. We didn't kiss. We didn't hold hands. We didn't even touch aside from when we introduced ourselves.
That's the way I want it. But then the next column hit my inbox, and I started to think about things. Would it be horrible to spend more time with him? As more than friends? He’s nice, cute, and funny. Three great qualities in any man.
When I answered Sara’s question, I did so without the advice of Abby or any of Maggie's previous articles. I answered it from my heart. After reading what I wrote, I realized that my advice is the same advice any mature adult would give her.
Closing up shop for the weekend, I send my column to Mr. Phelps for approval for the Sunday edition of Dear Maggie. Answering reader questions is getting easier. I'm becoming more confident in the advice I'm giving, no thanks to my research at this point. I'm sure there will come a time when I question things again, but until then, I'm going to enjoy the high I'm feeling right now.
After changing, I head directly to The Wine Bar. It’s not far, so I’ll probably be a little early, but in my mind, that’s better than being even one minute late. Kyle texted me earlier to let me know that he might be running behind and to go ahead and grab our table.
Parking behind the building as instructed, I step out of my car and scream when I feel a hand touch my arm.
"Sorry," Kyle says. "I didn't mean to scare you. I called your name as you were rolling up your window. I thought you heard me."
My heart is still pounding in my chest and my breathing is erratic. I scare easily, but this is different. I'm in a deserted parking lot. No cars are parked near me. I should have been more aware, more prepared if someone was lurking. Thankfully, it's only Kyle and not some stranger.
"It's okay," I reply, attempting to catch my breath.
"Why don’t we get you a glass of wine?" he suggests.
"Yes, a large one. Or maybe two," I say, locking my car, the beep causing me to jump slightly.
"You startle easily," he comments, motioning toward the restaurant.
"Not normally. I think I'm a little on edge right now." I fall into step with him but keep a respectable distance between us.
"Work?"
No, but I can't tell him that. I made it through our first date without screwing it up, but date number two is about to begin, and it's already off to a rocky start.
To be honest with him or to lie?
I'm not one to lie if I can avoid it. When he asked me about my job the other day, I was honest with him. I told him I worked for the Daily News. He didn't probe any further, didn't ask which column I wrote. If he had, I would have had to lie, or at least omit information. I wasn't hired to be the voice behind Dear Maggie, but that's who I am right now.
When she returns, Mr. Phelps assured me I would still have a position. He basically promised me I could have the position he hired me for originally. I'm looking forward to it. My desire to ask a million questions has only intensified since meeting Kyle.
"To be honest with you, I'm a little nervous about this," I reply, motioning between us as he holds the door open for me.
"Don't be nervous. It's just wine, food, and good conversation with an expert tour guide of the city. I have a few places I'd love to show you tonight, by the way. There's this amazing park a few blocks over with two large water fountains. They’ll shut them off for the winter in a few weeks, so I thought we'd walk over after dinner. The water changes color and everything. It's one of my favorite places in town. It's peaceful and beautiful."
My smile mimics his. He must really love that place, and now I'm excited for him to show me.
"Two for Long," he tells the hostess as we approach the podium.
"Follow me this way," she replies after taking a long, hard look up and down Kyle.
He's wearing a suit again, drawing attention to his upper body. It fits as if it was tailored especially for him, stretching across his chest, accentuating each muscle as he moves.
Sure, I checked him out the other night, but I wasn't nearly as obvious as the hostess is being right now. I snuck a few glances here and there. We spent a few hours together, so I was able to spread my gawking over time. She must have no shame. Once we're seated, she bends over further than necessary to place his menu in front of him, her minimal cleavage practically in his face.
I've worked in restaurants before. This kind of behavior isn't good for business. I'm biting my tongue, wanting to c
all her out on her inappropriate actions, but I don't. He's not mine. We're just friends. Still, she doesn't know that, and if he were more than just my dinner date, I'd have a lot to say.
"I think you have a fan," I say as she walks away, swaying her hips even though Kyle's back is to her. Silly girl. That's exactly what she is, too. A girl.
"Yeah, well I'm not interested. She can flirt with me all she wants. She won't get anywhere, especially if she acts like that. That's not my type of girl anymore."
He stops short as if there was more he was going to say. It makes me wonder what it was going to be and what he meant by "that type of girl."
"So, what's good here?" I ask, changing the subject to something a little lighter.
Kyle recommends the salmon with dill sauce. Nodding, I search the menu for something else. I’m not a huge fan of salmon. Settling on a chicken dish I can’t pronounce, I close my menu just as the waiter approaches. He introduces himself and makes a few recommendations for wine.
Kyle orders a bottle off the main wine list and an appetizer before the waiter retreats to get our wine.
“So, Lauren. Tell me a little more about you.”
“What do you want to know?” I ask, my knee bouncing nervously under the table causing the water in our glasses to splash around.
“Siblings, parents, friends other than the infamous Abby?”
Happy he’s asking personal questions I’m comfortable with, I tell him all about my family and where I’m from. He’s visited California a few times but has never been north of LA. He would love it up there. It’s a completely different world than Southern California.
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