Dating by Numbers

by Jennifer Lohmann

  “Maybe I’ll choose to believe you. Later.”

  “I’m sure this is hard, and I can’t even imagine the pain you’re in. Wallow in it tonight and for a while. I’ll make sure you don’t stay there.”

  “It’s not a nice place to be, but the future is scary. It doesn’t have Neil. I’m not married. And I don’t know who I am in that future.” Beck pulled her hand away to wipe her nose on her sleeve.

  “You’re Beck. And Beck is awesome.”

  Her friend gave a slight smile. “Thanks.”

  They sat in warm silence for a long time, sipping tea and staring at each other, but not really seeing the other person, both drowning in their own thoughts.

  “You’re out of tea,” Marsie said finally. “Do you want another cup?”

  “Yes, please. Might as well try to drown myself with tea, since even I’m smart enough to know that alcohol isn’t a good choice for me right now.” Beck laughed bitterly. “And I’m not sleeping anyway, so who cares if I have to pee fifteen times tonight.”

  Marsie got up, took her cup and Beck’s, then went into the kitchen and made another cup of tea. When she returned with their tea, Beck had snuggled deeper under the blanket. She pulled her arm out from under the blanket and stretched it out for the cup.

  “Careful, it’s hot,” Marsie said, turning the mug in her hand so that Beck could grab the handle.

  “Am I pathetic enough that I need to be reminded tea is hot, like I’m five?” The words sounded sharp, but Beck was trying to smile, so Marsie took them to be an attempt at a joke and smiled in return.

  “The heat of your tea is probably the last thing on your mind.”

  She shrugged. “I’m tempted to burn my mouth just so something other than my heart hurts.”

  “Oh, honey,” Marsie said, her own heart heavy, “don’t do that. It will take time, but the pain will go away. The body and the heart heal.”

  “I know. I just want to think of something else for a time, and a burned mouth is as good as anything.” Beck wrinkled her nose. “Tell me something good. Tell me that you’ve gone on a bunch of dates with some really hot guy who’s good in bed. Tell me that the world is full of possibility. I won’t believe you right now, but I want to hear it.”

  Marsie searched her friend’s face, looking for clues to her sincerity. Beck’s eyes were still damp and her hands shook a bit while she held her mug, but her voice had been steady when she asked for good news, so Marsie decided to believe her.

  And, because they were best friends, she was going to be honest. Beck would be hurt if she later learned that Marsie had made something up to make her feel better.

  “There are good men in the world,” she said, thinking of Jason and his search for a woman he could be completely loyal to and in love with for the rest of his days. “I went on a second date with a really interesting ER doctor, but I can’t tell if he’s good in bed.”

  “Does he seem like he’d be good in bed? You know, likes to touch you, seems to have an instinct for the right type of pressure, even if it’s only his hand on your knee?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Two dates and you don’t know? You’ve touched, right?”

  “Well, sure, we’ve shaken hands.”

  Beck put her cup on the coffee table, then slapped her hand over her heart and let her head fall back. “Be still my heart! You’ve shaken hands.”

  Her friend sat like that for several seconds until Marsie finally said, “Oh, stop it. I get your point.”

  Beck’s head snapped up. “I’ve shaken hands with a divorce lawyer. And I shake hands with customers on a regular basis. It’s all been hot, hot, hot.”

  “It’s just not been the right time or place for a kiss or anything.”

  “Is there a right time, or a right person?”

  “Well, both, I guess,” Marsie said, thinking about how she’d left the date early to come to Beck’s house—and how she had been relieved not to have to figure out how to dodge a kiss at the car.

  But Trevor was perfect.

  Except for the not wanting to kiss him.

  “In this case, I’m sure it wasn’t the right time.” God, even she could tell that there wasn’t any conviction in her voice.

  Beck rolled her eyes. “I’ve seen your algorithm. I’ll bet that he’s the right guy for the algorithm and the wrong guy for you. Your math-based method of finding true love leaves a lot to be desired.”

  “Hey now, not if I find the perfect man for me. One who compliments me and challenges me.”

  “Yeah, but you’re looking for you, with a penis.”

  “Why didn’t you say anything when we were first looking at the men online?”

  Beck shrugged. “I was so caught up in the fun of it that I didn’t stop to think about the what of it.”

  “Yeah, well, it’s not fun,” Marsie grumbled. Jason was a liar when he said it was. “Just wait until you have to try it.”

  Beck tried to hide her falling face by reaching for her cup of tea, but Marsie saw the new hurt she’d caused her friend. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. Neil just moved out today and you wanted to hear about fun.”

  “Your way of dating doesn’t sound any fun. No romance.”

  “Jason says I should be looking for spark.”

  “Jason?” Beck looked at Marsie over her cup. “Is that the janitor guy at your office?”

  “Building manager is a better word for it. He’s the all-around fix-it guy. He manages repairs and contractors. He doesn’t clean.”

  “And you have coffee with him?”

  “You don’t have to sound so surprised.” Marsie sat back, a little insulted. “It’s not like I’m a snob.”

  Beck raised an eyebrow. “Would you date him?”

  “I know where this is going, so don’t think you can trap me with an argument. No, I wouldn’t date Jason. I don’t think we’re compatible in the long run.”

  “Why?”

  “Beck,” Marsie said, exasperated, “what would we have to talk about after work? Would he understand the intricacies of research and grant applications?”

  “Would your ER doc? Or what about an intellectual property attorney. Or an engineer.” Beck shook her head. “Call it whatever you want. I call it being a snob.”

  Marsie didn’t know what to say, so she didn’t say anything. Beck wasn’t right, was she? Her algorithm took lots of characteristics into account. Jason failed ones other than career, too. Education, for starters. And height.

  Oh, God, I am a snob. Education and career. She was judging him on education and career, not on personal characteristics like that he was interesting and thoughtful.

  “What do you talk about now, when you get coffee?” Beck asked.

  It was Marsie’s turn to shrug. “Everything, really. Depends on the day and what we’ve got going on.”

  “Why don’t you ask him out? He’s not married, is he?”

  “No, but I’m not his type, either.”

  “Oh, is he also a snob? Does he not like smart women?”

  Marsie waved off that comment. “No. He doesn’t pass my algorithm, but he’s looking for spark, and apparently we don’t have it.” A week later and that comment still stung.

  “How do you know this?”

  “We’ve decided that we’re dating buddies. And we’ve got a bet going on. He’s looking for spark and I’m judging by the algorithm. First person to be in a committed relationship for three months wins.”

  “Huh.”

  “What’s the ‘huh’?”

  “Well, my husband just moved out, so I’m not the best judge of romance right now, but it sounds to me like there’s more going on with you two than just coffee buddies.”

  “We have no spark,” Mar
sie said, repeating Jason’s reason. It was as stupid as hers, but at least she didn’t sound like a snob when she said it.

  “Yeah,” her friend said, pulling the word out long, like taffy. “Is that what he said before you told him that he didn’t fit your algorithm?”

  Marsie didn’t answer. It didn’t matter who’d hurt whose feelings first.

  Did it?

  Beck looked pensive for a moment. “Do you think you have spark?”

  “I don’t even know what spark is.” Marsie sounded frustrated because she was. Spark felt like she was making one of the most important decisions of her life based on a person’s aura or horoscope or some other semi-magic she didn’t believe in.

  “You keep saying that it was the wrong time to kiss Trevor. Would you kiss Jason?”

  Yes. “We work together.”

  “Oh, please. That’s a lame excuse. He’s not your boss. You’re not his boss. Hell, you probably aren’t anywhere close to being on the same org chart.”

  “Well, no,” she acknowledged. “But I can’t imagine I would ever feel comfortable locking lips with someone at work.”

  “Grrr...” Beck said, throwing up her hands. It was a good thing the teacup was empty. “We’ve been friends a long time, so here’s how I understand this conversation. You think Jason’s hot. You enjoy his company. But you’ve decided that you aren’t compatible for the long term based on...based on some criteria you decided are more important than actually liking the guy, so you won’t ask him out on a date to see if more is possible.”

  Marsie’s jaw got tight, a sure sign Beck was right. Or, at least, not wrong. “He said we have no spark.”

  “So he’s as blind as you are, with some stupid criteria, when you can’t really judge how good you’ll be together until you give yourselves a chance.”

  “Not true,” Marsie insisted. “There have been men who have been obviously wrong for me, from the moment they opened their mouth.”

  “Well, sure. But for the guys who are possible, how do you know how possible they are until you take them for a ride?”

  Beck seemed to realize how what she had said sounded, because she snorted. “And not just a ride in the saddle. Get a sense for how well he respects you, for what he says about the things you disagree on, for how comfortable your silence is.”

  Her friend shook her head. “None of those things are in your algorithm. And I don’t think they’re in his unknown ‘spark,’ either.”

  “I’m going to go out on a date with Trevor, again.”

  “Okay. That’s in the spirit of what I’m saying, I guess. Maybe on the third date, whatever is missing to make you want to kiss him, no matter the timing, will show up. Seems like three is all you should give him, though.”

  Marsie had read a book on dating that talked about chemistry. The author’s advice had been to decide if you wanted to go on another date with a guy based on three things: could you imagine sleeping with him, could you imagine introducing him to your friends and could you imagine spending a long weekend with him. Reading the book had felt like talking to a favorite aunt, and she’d believed the woman’s insistence of chemistry. Putting it into action was another thing.

  She could imagine introducing Trevor to her friends. She could imagine spending a long weekend with him—though probably not time on the beach doing nothing. She tried to imagine sleeping with him and didn’t get any further than thinking he was a good-looking man.

  God, what was she doing? And was she leading him on? Or setting them both up for unhappiness?

  She thought about Jason and the book’s prescription for chemistry. She’d sit and drink coffee with him in a café in Paris for hours. Paris, New York, some small town in Iowa. She’d already imagined having sex with him. Her mind wandered there every time he came into her office now. And her friends would like him. Everyone liked Jason. He was friendly, personable and his interest in people’s lives wasn’t feigned.

  “Maybe you’re right,” she said, finally.

  “About which part?”

  “Well, you’re right that I shouldn’t give Trevor more than three dates if I’m not interested in kissing him.”

  “And...”

  “And I’m heading back online to look for more guys, probably this weekend.”

  “Honestly?” Beck asked, clearly exasperated. “And with the same algorithm?”

  “No. I’m going to reevaluate that. I’m a good researcher for a reason. I don’t stick to things that aren’t working.”

  “Huh. I would think that means you should scrap your algorithm completely, but I guess this is a step in the right direction.”

  “Dating is hard.” The unknowns of it wore her out.

  “I’m going to find out, soon enough.”

  Chagrinned, Marsie wrinkled her nose. “I’m sorry for taking so much time to talk about me. I came over here to keep you company.”

  “It’s fine. I asked for it. It wasn’t the excitement I was looking for, but it took my mind off my own problems for ten minutes. And that’s all I really wanted.”

  “Want me to stay the night?”

  “I don’t need...” Beck paused. “It doesn’t matter what I need. I don’t want to spend the night alone in this house yet. Tomorrow night will be soon enough.”

  “Too soon, I’ll bet.”

  “Yeah. But I have to do it. Like ripping off a bandage.”

  Marsie laughed. “That’s how I feel about dating.”

  Beck laughed with her. “Thank you for not treating me like I’m fragile. I don’t want Neil to be the thing that held me together.”

  “He wasn’t, but I’ll bet it will feel that way a lot. For a little while. But not forever.”

  “Do you need pajamas?”

  “Nah, but I’d love a toothbrush. I have clothes at work I can wear tomorrow.” They were her date clothes, but she didn’t have any meetings, so probably no one would notice.

  “I’ll get you that. Let’s go. God, I have to go to work tomorrow, too.”

  “Don’t you want to take the day off?”

  “No,” her friend said, shaking her head enough to give Marsie a headache. “I need something to keep me busy. And I need the reminder that I’m more than Neil’s wife.”

  Marsie stood, grabbed both cups and shuffled her way to the kitchen. Then she followed Beck upstairs for a toothbrush. As she climbed into bed, she thought about the advice from the book and what Beck had said about Jason. The sheets were cool on her naked body. A man next to her would be warm, and she put Trevor in the spot to her right.

  Even in her mind’s wanderings, he got out of the bed immediately. Jason replaced him.

  Chemistry. Spark.

  It all sounded like voodoo to her.

  She needed to get another dating book. One written by an economist, or a mathematician, or something. The relationship expert wasn’t serving her very well.

  Still, even as she was falling asleep, her hand crept to the right and the body she imagined touching stayed Jason’s. She was too tired to worry about what that implied.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  “HEY, DO YOU want to get...coffee.” Jason caught a glimpse of Marsie’s outfit and was barely able to get out the last part of that request. On another woman the sparkly gold sweater, big gold chain necklace and large hoops with an animal print might be considered a work outfit, but not Marsie. She never looked so casual, at least not at work.

  “Sure. I’m exhausted and need the caffeine if I’m going to have any hope of staying awake.”

  She looked tired, though her clothes didn’t look rumpled. They looked like she’d pulled them out of the closet, not off the floor after spending the night in some man’s bed.

  But she’d said she was tired.

  When she stood,
he saw that she was wearing skinny jeans that made her legs look ten miles long, and the one arm he hadn’t seen had thick bracelets on it, animal print, to match her earrings. And as she came around the desk, he noticed she was wearing high-heeled black boots.

  Nothing like what she normally wore to work. And yesterday, he’d swear he’d seen a red, lacy bra.

  Conclusion: Marsie had a date last night. And she hadn’t gone home from it.

  Once she got close, he saw that the small area under her eyes was black, and he had spent enough time looking at her over coffee that he knew something about her hair didn’t look right. He wouldn’t be able to say what it was, just that it was different. Marsie was still impeccably put together, but casual, which was not a word he usually associated with her.

  “So did you have a date last night?” he asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

  He must not have succeeded, because she said, “Why? Jealous?” Then she flashed him a pleased smile and headed off to the elevator.

  He stopped for a brief second when he realized the answer was yes. He was jealous of the man who had made Marsie’s night awesome enough that she would come to work in her date clothes.

  He quickened his pace to catch up with her, then looked sideways at her as they continued to the elevator. Still nothing that he would call spark.

  So why was he jealous?

  “Not sure why I would be,” he said to her. She was the smartest person he knew; might as well let her figure out what reason he might have to be jealous since he couldn’t.

  They stopped together at the elevator. As Marsie reached forward to push the down button, she looked over at him, a bit of surprise on her face. “Because that was date two with Trevor. I’m one date closer to my three months, of course. And to winning the bet.”

  Right. The bet. Right now, he was cursing the stupid bet and the fact that it meant she was probably going to take the rest of their coffee break analyzing her date. He didn’t care how it made her closer to winning their bet. He didn’t want to hear how great Trevor was.