On a meta-scale, I discovered that everyone has their issues; they just aren’t always apparent at first. As a result, everyone perceives things differently. Moments that were brilliant and shiny and glossy to me may have been black-and-white and matte and dull to the person on the other side of the table. And vice versa.
Similarly, different people bring out different things in us. Older Luke elicited my more serious and thoughtful side, Dan my more laidback and carefree one. For months, I missed Younger Luke and our incessant banter, our fits of laughter. Allowing myself to wallow one night this winter, I fell down the rabbit hole of rereading all our correspondence. But when I scrolled through the hundreds of texts and clicked through the dozens of emails, it dawned on me that he wasn’t actually all that funny. Brendan was funnier; Greg was way funnier. With Luke—at least in our e-communication—it was often me being funny. Being with him somehow made me funnier. And more fun. And instead of missing Younger Luke quite so desperately, I started to miss that version of myself.
Ideally, I’d like to find someone who can bring out all of my best parts, or the parts—like humor and curiosity, and candor—that make my day-to-day life the most satisfying. And the years ahead the most satisfying. I’d like to find someone who makes me the me I’d most want to be around.
Perhaps most importantly, this past year proved to me that there isn’t one One. There are many Ones who can make you happy—you just need the timing to work out. And timing can be an irritable and erratic thing. I wouldn’t have been interested in Paul or Younger Luke if I’d met their younger incarnations. And yet at various points earlier this year I was intensely drawn to Paul and would have given anything to be loved by Younger Luke. If Dan had been in a different point in his life when we met (or if I had been), would our instant ease and chemistry have meant more? Could it have fueled a functional relationship?
Part of the ease and fun of Match.com dating was knowing that when one chapter ended, another was waiting to begin with the click of a button. But perhaps I need to admit that, like my relationships with each of these men, my relationship with Match.com, too, has run its course. Though I don’t know the specifics of how, when, or where, I think it’s time again to try my hand at something new. As I explained to Younger Luke with my Pachinko theory, it’s all about making the most of where you land. And with a new neighborhood—albeit less than three miles from my old one—and a new job—albeit one with some uncertainties attached, I can’t help but wonder if I’ve pushed my Pachinko marble over to a new set of pegs. I’m eager to see which path it takes next.
My cursor hovers over the DELETE button, and I click.
Acknowledgments
The world is big and I am small. Where to begin?
The genesis of this book began as a list of dating experiences scrawled on the back of a cocktail napkin. At drinks with my sister, Elenna, and the real-life Nicole, rehashing the details of our latest dates, it was their idea to spin our dating lives into Alison’s novel. Granted it took a few years, but everything in these pages still derives from that fateful napkin. This novel would be zero pages long were it not for them.
This novel might also still reside on my hard drive were it not for my ever-thoughtful, tireless agent Jennifer Chen Tran, who has championed me and this book from day one, and who helped sculpt Alison and her narrative arc in ways immeasurable. Of course, I feel exceptionally lucky that Jennifer landed Amy Singh as my editor. I couldn’t have imagined collaborating with an editor who so thoroughly supported and furthered the threads and themes of this book. Suggestions and edits, both minor and major, always felt carefully considered and expertly instructive. Thanks also to Alex Hess, Chelsey Emmelhainz, and the Skyhorse team for turning this manuscript into a beautiful book and for spearheading its production, and to Michelle Richter of Fuse Literary for shepherding the book through the final phases.
Like Alison, my dating life’s been filled with many heady highs and a few relative lows. Heartfelt thanks go to the nonfictional roommates, the Friday BYOB girls, and the real-life Mom, Dad, and Ben—all of whom helped me always find humor in the situations at hand and reminded me that even if you need to sit in your room and play Coldplay on loop for weeks, one day you won’t need to anymore. I hope that I am half the friend and familial rock to each of you that you are to me.
I am grateful to Dana Bate, Lauren Miller, Dave White, Sarah Dickman, and Lanie Davis for advising on the trajectory from Word file to book. And I am amazed by the interest level and patience of the many friends who were unflagging in their enthusiasm to talk through plot points and narrative arc: Aleks, Elizabeth, Jane, Ashley, Blaire, Megan, Anna, Emma, Joel, Adam, Jenny, and Justine.
Writing these pages was sheer joy, motivated in a large part by my most avid fan and first reader, who kept asking when he’d get to hear the next chapter. To Jason, merci encore et encore et encore. I was similarly propelled forward by the encouragement and eagerness of my first editors, Mom and Elenna. As with my high school newspaper articles, my college thesis, and countless job applications and wedding toasts ever since, your edits have been transformative and invaluable. Also, Mom wants me to clarify that she’s slightly less overbearing than Alison’s mom.
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