by Adele Huxley
That took me an hour. My English degree mocked me from its place on my wall.
With my chin cradled in hand, I stared at the screen of my phone until it went dark. It was too quiet in the apartment. Well, as quiet as an apartment could be on 87th Street. I wanted to go upstairs and hang out with Zach as a distraction.
“I miss Kevin,” I said to the empty room. Even as I said it, I knew it wasn’t entirely true.
It’d been long enough since the break up to realize he wasn’t the Prince Charming I’d always believed him to be. For one, Prince Charming doesn’t dump you the night before graduation. And then there were the rumors of cheating which I’d ignored for so long, thinking there was no way he’d ever do that to me. Turns out a lot of those fraternity obligations involved more than a few sorority sisters. And the lies. Holy shit, all the lies.
Even with all that, I craved the safety of our relationship. We were Kevin and Talia. We’d been together so long I’m surprised we didn’t have a combined name like Brangelina. Talin. Kevia. Something catchy. What I wouldn’t have given to crawl back into my warm little cave of ignorance and not feel so lonely and exposed.
The universe had hit a massive reset button on my life and all I wanted to do was rewind.
I stared at the black screen, feeling ridiculous. I swiped the app open and moved to delete it entirely from my phone, but stopped. My finger hovered over the ‘delete account’ button. No. I’m doing this. Fear is the worst reason to keep from moving forward. I have to at least try.
A photo of an obscenely cute guy popped up. Shawn, 21. Less than a mile away. With my heart inexplicably racing in my throat, I skimmed his bio.
“I like to lift heavy things, climb tall things, and jump off even taller things.”
For five full minutes I picked him apart. He was obviously in shape and judging from all his gym selfies, really into working out. That was gonna be a problem, especially considering my idea of exercise was running to catch a train. I’m afraid of heights and not incredibly into hiking up vertical mountain trails. And the last picture of him skydiving gave me the shivers.
No. Definitely not a match. I swiped left.
Rejection with the flick of a finger. I pushed my guilt down, convincing myself that it would’ve never worked out between us. He had to understand that.
My eyes widened as I scanned the next profile. Shirtless, scruffy beard, waxed chest, posing in the mirror. One of those photos I could probably forgive, but all of them were some variation on the same theme.
“I’m the kind of guy you bring home to Mom. Mom falls in love with me. I’m your new dad. You’re grounded. You deserve a spanking.”
I grimaced and swiped left, feeling dirty for even reading it. Freakin’ yuck.
The next profile photo instantly intrigued me, even though I couldn’t see his face. It was a full-body shot taken from behind. He stood with his hands stuffed in his pockets admiring a giant Monet painting, probably one of the ones in the Museum of Modern Art downtown.
Travis, 30. Less than a mile away.
“I’ll treat you like Kanye treats Kanye.”
It made me giggle and after flipping through his other profile pics, I was conflicted. I didn’t know enough about him to make a decision either way. If I was honest, I felt a little miffed that I’d spent all that time finely crafting my bio and he only wrote one sentence. But he had a nice smile and seemed interesting enough. With my eyes squeezed shut, I swiped right.
And then a whole flood of new worries slapped me across the face. What if he doesn’t swipe right on me? What if he sees my profile and rejects me straight away? I said I like the color blue. What if that’s code for something I don’t know? This is a fucking mine field!
In order to push past the panic of rejection, I started flying through profiles with lightning speed. Study the pics, read the bio, swipe. Left, right, left, right. Left, left, left. It felt odd browsing people with less care than I shopped for purses. I must’ve gone through ten profiles like that before the first message popped up.
Before long, I’d completely lost track of time. Curled up on the sofa with a single light burning, I spent my Friday night flirting with complete strangers. It took time to weed out the assholes, guys whose first messages were, “Tits?” or “DTF?” After looking up that acronym online (down to fuck, if you’re curious), I nearly gave up. Five seemed like normal people until three of them showed their true colors. And by colors, I mean penis.
But I landed on a couple winners and for hours I sat up chatting back and forth with two guys, Pete and Travis.
I had the most in common with Pete but Travis made me laugh. For every one message I sent Pete, Travis received ten. Even through the tiny screen of my phone, chatting with Travis gave me little flutters in my stomach I hadn’t felt in forever. We had a good rapport, a few similar interests, and he was self-deprecating in a way I found incredibly endearing. But when he asked if I wanted to get together the next night, I still hesitated.
I chuckled and was half way through a message when I heard Anette’s voice echo up the internal staircase. I quickly deleted it and typed a reply.
I laughed at the response as the door clicked. Anette flung it open hard enough to slam against the wall. Lurking just behind her was a tall guy I thought I recognized but couldn’t place.
“Okay, okay, we made it,” he whispered quietly. He smiled at me as he guided her inside. “Hey, I’m Rob. I work at Dive 85 with Anette.”
“That’s right, hi.” I watched smirking as she walked in. Even though she worked at one of the hottest bars in the neighborhood, coming home even tipsy was not a normal event for her.
“I made it. Yes, I did!” she declared as she tried to kick off her boots.
“Have a good night?”
“The fucking best.” I watched her intently and noted she wasn’t so drunk a slice of toast and some water wouldn’t help.
“One of her favorite bands came in after their show.”
“It’s dark, it’s cold, my heart is weak for you,” she sang, waving her arms above her head.
I laughed and pushed up from the sofa, my aching muscles screaming from sitting in one position for so long. “Are you hungry? We have leftovers in the fridge and…”
“Yes! I love you so much right now!” Anette sang and twirled in a circle in the middle of the room. “Oh shit. Wait. No. That was a terrible idea. Terrible. Whoo, I need to sit my ass down.” She giggled and dizzily flopped on to the couch.
I chuckled as I watched her from the kitchenette. Anette, or TipsyNette as I call her when she’s like this, is always a riot with a little tequila in her. Not that she isn’t a barrel of monkeys any other time but TipsyNette is a fun one. You have to keep an eye on her though, because the mood seesaw can topple one way or another. She could get pissy and aggressive, but that hadn’t happened in a while. Lately, she’d only become giggly and hetero-curious after a few drinks.
“Here ya go,” I said, setting down a big glass of juice and half a sandwich. I nibbled on the other half as I watched the scene play out.
Judging from the way she was squirming, I was surprised she hadn’t stripped Rob down already. She was acting like she’d chased a double shot of Viagra and Ecstasy with a full can of Redbull. But then again, they had only been home two minutes.
“So, I’ve been talking with people online,” I started cautiously.
“Hell yeah, you have!” she exclaimed with a mouth full of food. “And?”
“One asked me to go out with him tomorrow.”
“That’s what I’m talking about. Tee, you just have to put yourself out there and…”
“I haven’t said yes.”
Her shoulders slumped and she regarded me like a weary mother might. “Come on, now.”
“Sorry, but I think I’m gonna get going,” Rob started to say as he inched toward the door.
Anette threw the remaining bit of sandwich down and swung over the back of the sofa. “Oh, no you don
’t. Not so fast. I'm gonna do some incredibly inappropriate things to you of a sexual nature and you’re gonna like it!"
Rob laughed nervously as he rubbed the back of his neck. I noticed a shine on his dark skin as he wiped away the sweat. “I didn’t bring you home just so…”
“No. I brought you home just so...” Anette climbed to her feet and circled the sofa, grabbing a bashful Rob by the arm. She closed one eye and pointed at me from across the room. "Pass me the maple syrup and the whipped cream. Chop chop, woman! Time's a'wastin! Oh, and if you hear any screams or funky animal sounds coming from my room, you just ignore those, sugartits, mmk?"
I laughed as they disappeared around the corner, shaking my head and feeling a tinsey bit sorry for Rob. Before she slammed her bedroom door shut, Anette called out. “You better say yes to that guy!”
I bit my lip, hesitated, and quickly typed out a response.
I got to the bar way too early but I had my reasons, three of them in fact. One, I had no clue where the place was and I live in a perpetual fear of being late. Two, I’d never been on a blind date before but knew I didn’t want to be the one picking through the crowd for a semi-familiar face. The idea of walking up to the wrong guy was enough to scare me off dating forever. And three, I needed a little liquid courage. Actually… a lot.
I triple checked the name of the place and pushed the door open. Pennants and jerseys covered the walls and the far end was crammed with people playing on pinball machines. It wasn’t exactly what I was expecting for a date night, but I could roll with a sports bar. After a quick scan to make sure he hadn’t thought to get there early like I had, I grabbed a seat at the bar. With a clear line of sight to the door and a cold beer on the way, I relaxed.
Countless times over the past few months, I experienced moments where I felt like I was living someone else’s life. After the initial shock of Kevin leaving had worn off, it felt like I was being pushed along a path I was never meant to go down. For so many years, I’d imagined how things would be. We’d graduate, maybe get engaged after a year or two of living together, have a big wedding on the beach, and start a family once our careers were settled.
I’d graduated with a degree in English with the plan of eventually getting my Master’s in Education. It’d be perfect for our little family. I’d have evenings and summers to spend with the kids. My stability would give Kevin the freedom to explore his passions. We’d had it all planned out, down to the places we’d vacation and the rotating schedule of balancing Christmas with my family and Hanukkah with his.
Sitting in a bar waiting for a guy I’d met on a hookup app was not an experience I’d expected in my life. All the same, I was doing my best to embrace and try to make the best of it. I guess that’s why I didn’t walk right out when Travis arrived.
As it got closer to the time, every movement near the entrance caught my eye. The door opened, my gaze flicked up and then away, dismissing the newcomer as I’d done to a dozen before him. Except this one came straight for me, a cheesy grin on his face.
“Talia?”
My heart skipped. I looked to my right and struggled to reconcile the person in front of me with the photos from Tinder. He was easily forty pounds heavier with shaggy, unkempt hair. He instantly reminded me of a few of Kevin’s frat brothers who’d discovered binge drinking and late night pizza delivery.
“Travis, hi! Here, sit. Sorry I didn’t recognize you at first. I’m a little nervous.” I forced myself to smile, sure my first reaction hadn’t been great. His expression relaxed as if he’d been waiting for me to freak out.
“You found the place okay?” He wiped his damp forehead with a swipe of his hand, sticking his hair down across his brow.
“Yeah, my boyfriend told me where it was,” I joked, referencing our conversation from the night before. Even if I wasn’t attracted to him, he’d made me laugh all night. Plus all that debate between Anette and Zach about personality versus looks made me want to be a decent person. Plus, I was eager to break the ice and start laughing again.
Travis coughed as he waved over to the bartender. “Wait, what?”
I chuckled and then realized he didn’t know I was kidding. “You know. From last night?” He frowned and shook his head, eyes darting around behind me, presumably for the big burly boyfriend waiting to beat him up. “I joked about having a boyfriend…”
“Ah, right,” he exclaimed, nodding too much. The bartender set a bottle down in front of him without asking what he wanted and I could only assume he was a regular here. He chugged down the bottle in a few gulps and motioned for another one.
I sensed an awkward silence building before he’d even set the bottle down and figured being straight up would be the best thing.
“Listen, I have to tell you I’m really nervous. This is the first time I’ve met anyone like this.” My palms started to sweat and I hated being so vulnerable to a stranger. He smiled kindly and for the last time that evening, I got the feeling we might actually have a good time.
“It’s cool,” he said.
“So…” I started, searching for something we talked about last night that’d spark a conversation now. “I think it’s great you picked a sports bar. Kind of takes the…”
“Hey! Roachy, hey!” he cut in, waving over my head to someone in the back of the bar. He tried a few times to get the person’s attention before giving up. “Too fucking loud in here,” he muttered as he took another chug of beer.
I nervously laughed and finished off my own drink, wishing I’d consumed more liquid courage to get me through this. “Yeah, it is.” I don’t think he even heard.
A dozen TVs ringed the top perimeter of the bar, each set to a different sport or game. Out of sheer luck, we were closest to a screen showing the Mets game. Travis kicked the stool away and leaned against the bar, his eyes pinned to the set. It was like he was watching the World Series, not the bottom of the third inning of a July matchup.
“You said you liked baseball, right?” he asked, almost as if remembering I was there. Thankful that he was returning to the conversation, I nodded enthusiastically.
“Yeah, totally. Played pretty much my whole life. Well, softball, not baseball, obviously.”
He gave me a thin smile but turned his attention towards me, his elbow on the bar. “Obviously. Who’s your team?”
“The Mets,” I smiled.
He lifted his chin and smirked a little. “You don’t say.”
Sensing I’d die of thirst before Travis would buy me a drink, I caught the bartender’s eye and waved my empty bottle, silently mouthing for another. “Umm, yeah. My dad used to take us to games. We’re actually supposed to go to…”
“Who did the Mets beat to win their first World Series?”
I clapped my jaw shut in an effort to keep from snapping. There were few things I hate more in the world than being interrupted and the dude had done it twice. “Ummm, I have no idea,” I said with thinly veiled irritation.
He rolled his eyes and sighed, as if that had somehow proved a point. “It was the Orioles.”
“Okay, fine,” I replied, rising to his challenge. “Who did they play for their first official game?”
Without missing a beat, he replied, “The Cardinals. What year did Shea Stadium open?”
I perked up in my chair, surprised I actually knew the answer. “1964!” I chirped.
“Wah-wah, sorry, that is not the right answer. Jim, what does the little lady win?” he said in a fake game show host voice.
“No, that’s right.”
“Close, but it was 1963,” he said as he turned back to the game. Ugh, the way he said it was so condescending and arrogant, not to mention, flat-out wrong.
I was starting to get really pissed off. I might not have known the other factoids, but I knew this one. I pulled my phone out and started to type the question into the search bar when a stench hit my nose. Maybe he thought he could pass off the smell in a crowded bar. With so many people around, he probably figu
red I’d naturally assume it was someone else farting.
I abandoned my search, needing a hand to subtly cover my nose. With a glance out of the corner of my eye, I studied my date and questioned why I was still sitting there next to him. I think I was so caught off guard by each and every thing he’d done, my mind had frozen. From essentially lying about his appearance to interrupting me, from forcing me to prove my fan loyalty and then insisting I was wrong when I did… what was his end goal here? Was he even trying to get with me?
The bartender walked past and I thought I might’ve detected a slight look of sympathy. Just as I was about to make an excuse and head home for the night, the game went to commercial and Travis turned back.
“So! You like to read?”
“I, uh… yes. I’m actually an editor at a publishing house.”
“So cool.” He flashed a disingenuous smile. “I love Jane Austen.”
It was so transparent, I almost laughed in his face. It had to be a joke, right? I had Jane Austen listed in my biography. Did he think I’d forgotten that or something? “You don’t say? What’s your favorite book?”
He waved his hand and rolled his eyes. “How do you pick just one?”
“Right.”
And then he farted again, only this time, I heard it. You know that face babies make as they drop a load in their diapers? I swear to every deity he made that face and just carried on talking like it was nothing. “Did you know she was one of eight children and that she traveled all over the world?”
I leaned my elbow against the bar and nodded as I held my chin thoughtfully. “Really?”
“Oh, yes. And she never got married. Isn’t that fascinating?”
I shifted my face slightly so I was able to breathe through my knuckles, the few wisps of perfume from my wrist blocking the stench. He rattled off a load of trivia like a human encyclopedia.
“And she died before any of her books were published, which is so sad, isn’t it?” Wrong again. I briefly considered cornering him with my own knowledge and proving he didn’t know what the hell he was talking about, but realized I’d need to open my mouth and breathe to do so.