The Undateable

by Sarah Title

  “Hey, I’m just between polyamories at the moment. I have a date with two guys I’ve been talking to online tonight,” Marcie said.

  “Really?”

  “We’re going to the movies! Just like normal people do,” she said, shooting a pointed look at Bernie. But a laughing pointed look, so Bernie laughed.

  “I’ll save you a seat,” she said.

  “Please don’t,” Bernie said.

  “You’re not supposed to date without me,” a voice said from above Bernie. She knew that voice. She looked up.

  It was Colin.

  There was that happy feeling again.

  Maybe there was something to those pheromones people kept talking about.

  “Hey,” she said, shielding her eyes from the blessed, blessed sun. “What’re you doing here?”

  “It’s sunny,” he said, as if no more explanation was needed. Which was true. “And I’m taking my sister for a walk.”

  He pointed behind him to a woman in shorts and a ponytail who was talking to a group of women on the blanket farm next to theirs.

  “Steph! So good to see you!”

  Bernie hopped up and enveloped Steph in a warm hug. She was all about the happiness today.

  “What, no hug for me?” Colin asked.

  “I’ll give him a hug,” Marcie muttered.

  “Bernie!” Steph said, hugging Bernie back tightly. “I feel like I should apologize to you.”

  “Why?”

  “If you weren’t such a cool person, I wouldn’t have recognized you in that meme and none of this would have happened.” She waved at her brother, the “this” that had happened to Bernie.

  “Oh, well.” Did Bernie regret all that had happened? The meme and the dates and the makeover? And the Colin?

  Must be the sunshine, because she didn’t regret a thing.

  “It’s enough that you remember me as cool,” she told Steph, and she meant it.

  “You know you’re the cool librarian at Richmond.”

  “What? No, I’m not cool.”

  “Yes! You’re the only one under eighty—”

  “Hey!” Liz was in her fifties. And Maxwell Dean was younger than that.

  “Well, at least you’re the only one who doesn’t try too hard to be hip.”

  “It’s the clogs,” Dave said.

  “Leave my clogs out of this,” Bernie said. “Steph was just telling me that I’m cool.”

  “She said the cool librarian. There’s a difference,” Colin said with an arched brow.

  Steph gave her brother a playful shove. “Listen, when I was a dumb college kid trying to figure out why I liked girls so much and also trying to pass my classes . . . you were good, Bernie.”

  “Well, you were good, too. Most of the time.”

  “Ha! I was terrible.”

  “But when you were good, you were good.”

  “And,” Steph continued, turning to Dave and Marcie and Starr, “she helped me with my schoolwork and introduced me to Susan Sontag and bell hooks—”

  “Okay, you’re embarrassing me. What have you been up to?”

  “And why are you blocking my sun?” Marcie asked.

  Bernie rolled her eyes. “Are you guys in a hurry? Do you want to join us?”

  Steph looked at her brother, then sat down on the corner of the blanket. Bernie sat, then scooched over to make room for Colin. She resisted the urge to lean into his chest and use him as a back support. Barely.

  Steph talked about her job and meeting with the mayor and community groups and Bernie listened, mostly, but she was very distracted by Colin’s smell. He smelled good. She wished they weren’t here, in this crowd of people, so she could lean back on him and smell him and soak up the sunshine and Colin.

  Whoa. That was unexpected. And kind of intense. You don’t really like him, she reminded herself. You just like fighting with him and then sleeping with him. She looked over at him, admiring his strong jaw as he gazed out over the park. God, she really wanted to kiss that jaw.

  Then he turned and caught her looking and gave her a warm smile that would have melted her insides if she liked him.

  “Are you relieved that your dates are almost over?”

  Bernie turned back to Steph, and she caught the glance that passed between Dave and Marcie. She made a mental note to remind them later that she did not like Colin.

  Besides, the dates were almost over. Then she wouldn’t have a reason to see him anymore.

  That thought put a big ol’ rain cloud over her happiness.

  Even though it didn’t matter because she didn’t like him.

  “Um, yeah,” Bernie said to Steph.

  “I can tell by your face that you’re lying.”

  “That’s just my face!”

  “You’re not relieved?” Colin asked.

  “No! Of course I am! This has been the most exhausting three weeks of my life, and I have to go back to work next week. I can’t imagine doing both.”

  “Dating and working? I can see you’ve learned a lot of valuable lessons from our time together.”

  “Shut up.” She gave Colin a shove. “I mean going out with someone new every day. I’m glad tonight is just a nice, normal date.”

  “Because all of your normal dates have been so normal,” Dave said.

  “Oh, man,” Steph said. “I’ve never been so happy to be gay in my life. Some of those guys really put you through the ringer. I want to hear about the stuff Colin left out of his articles.”

  “You read my articles?” Colin asked with obvious surprise.

  “Shut up. Of course I did. They’re about Bernie.”

  “Have you noticed the women in your life tell you to shut up a lot?” Dave asked.

  “Shut up,” said Marcie.

  “I can’t wait to see who you pick on Friday,” Steph said.

  “What?”

  “All thirty of those guys in one room. Well, twenty-nine, unless Colin’s inviting the guy who stood you up. Which you totally shouldn’t, by the way.”

  “Steph—” Colin warned.

  “One room?”

  “Did Makeda pick out something fabulous for you to wear? She’s kind of nuts, isn’t she? I love her.”

  “Wait, what?”

  “Do you have any idea who you’ll choose? I’m voting for the wedding crasher. What do you guys think?” Steph turned to Dave and Marcie, who looked at Bernie for an explanation. But she didn’t have one, so she looked at Colin, who was suddenly avoiding her gaze.

  “Colin?” she said.

  “Oh my God, wait. Colin! You haven’t told her yet?”

  “Told me what?”

  “I was going to, today. When I picked you up for the date.”

  “Told me what, Colin?”

  Colin took a deep breath, and Bernie braced herself.

  “My editor wants to have a party to wrap up the series.”

  “Okay . . .”

  “And she invited all of your dates—including the one who stood you up—so you can choose one to continue seeing.”

  “Like a reality show?”

  “No! Like . . . like a happy ending.”

  “But this was never about a happy ending! This was just about dating.”

  “Yes, but isn’t that what dating’s about? Finding the happy ending?”

  “No! That’s exactly the kind of narrative I did not want. Dating is for fun, remember? I never said my happy ending meant me being part of a couple.”

  “Then why did you do this whole thing? What was the point?”

  “Because I thought I was undateable and you said you could prove me wrong!”

  “And I did!”

  “So now, because you guys bought me a bunch of clothes, I’m just going to be auctioned off to the highest bidder?”

  “What? No!”

  Bernie scrambled to her feet. “I’ve got to go.” She felt panicked and out of control. This was not what she’d signed up for. She was so frustrated and angry, and she knew she wa
s overreacting, she knew it, but she felt certain the next thing that came out of her mouth was going to be a sob.

  “Bernie—” Colin got up and reached for her.

  “I gotta get ready for my date,” she said, and stormed out of the park.

  * * *

  “That went well,” Steph said when Colin sat back down.

  “You could have kept your big mouth shut,” he told her.

  “I didn’t know it was supposed to be a secret!”

  “I was waiting for the right time to tell her!”

  “Colin! The party is in two days!”

  “I know that!”

  “When were you going to tell her?”

  “I don’t know!”

  “We should go after her,” Dave said.

  “First we should kick his ass,” Marcie said, nodding toward Colin.

  “I’ll take care of that for you,” Steph said.

  “No, I don’t think he needs that,” Dave said.

  “Thank you,” Colin said, gratefully, although Dave didn’t look at him.

  “You hurt our Bernie,” he said, pulling the blankets up. Colin rolled onto the grass so Dave could grab the one he was sitting on. “But you can make it right.”

  “I can’t cancel the party,” he said, looking up at Dave.

  “No, but you can help her make her choice.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “You’ll figure it out. Come on, Marce. Let’s go take care of our girl.”

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Dear Maria,

  I screwed up in a big way. I love my boyfriend, but I don’t think he’ll ever forgive me. What should I do?

  Possibly Single in the Mission

  Dear Possibly,

  That’s the problem with dating humans. They screw up. They make mistakes. Only he can decide if he’s willing to forgive you. But consider this: do you want to be forgiven because you love him, or because you feel bad about hurting him and his forgiveness will make you feel better? If you love him, swallow your pride and give him some time. Then put those gloves on, girl, because it’s gonna take some work.

  Kisses,

  Maria

  BERNIE WAS WEARING A LOT of sparkles.

  She stood on a box in the Glaze.com offices in front of a hastily thrown-up three-paneled mirror. Makeda was behind her, cinching the dress in at her waist while an intern sat at her feet, pinning up the hemline.

  “We could go a little tighter. What do you think?”

  Makeda wasn’t asking Bernie. She was asking Marcie, whom Bernie had brought along for moral support in case Makeda tried to talk her into stilettos or some kind of floofy princess ball gown. Also, in case she ran into Colin.

  Two days ago she was floating. No, she was soaring. It was because of Colin. It was because he made her feel good—really, really good—and she knew that she made him feel the same. How was it possible she hadn’t noticed the sexual tension between them until they got naked?

  And then a few hours later, her floaty feelings were shot down by Colin’s cruel subterfuge. What was he trying to do to her, throwing a very public party like this? She’d been appreciating how his stories, especially lately, were less about her specifically and more about the difficulties of dating in San Francisco in general. Sure, she was the one who got set up with the guy who couldn’t control his anger around roller girls, and the guy who was maybe secretly gay, and the guy who had a girlfriend. But the stories had an everywoman quality that made Bernie feel like she wasn’t the one under the microscope, it was the whole city. Colin’s stories didn’t make her look sad or pathetic. They made her look smart and a little prickly but nothing like an object of pity or the butt of a joke. She liked the way Colin saw her.

  This party would shift everything back on to her. Which was exactly what she didn’t want.

  Liz told her that Dean had gotten rid of all of the Disapproving Librarian bookmarks. Then maintenance found a litter of feral kittens in the boiler room and someone had started a meme about Library Cats, so the Disapproving Librarian’s brief infamy was forgotten.

  “Ouch.” A pin to the hip broke her out of her reverie.

  “Hold still.”

  “It feels a little tight,” she told Makeda.

  “This makes a better line,” Marcie said.

  “You’re supposed to be on my side.”

  “I am. I’m making you look good.”

  “I don’t need—you know what, never mind. Pin away.”

  She’d lost her passion for the argument that she didn’t need to look good. Maybe she’d changed her mind, that now she liked looking good. Or maybe she was just tired.

  Just a few more hours and this whole thing would be over.

  “How’s our librarian doing?” Clea Summers, Colin’s boss, came over and stood behind her in the mirror. “Looking fabulous.”

  “Thanks,” Bernie said, because that was a compliment.

  She didn’t feel particularly fabulous. But she had to admit, the dress was great. It was not something she would ever in a million years wear of her own volition—strapless and sparkly and so long she was going to have to wear heels, dammit—but it was a good dress. It looked good on her.

  Clea pulled Bernie’s hair loosely off her shoulders, shaking a few strands artfully loose around her face. “We’ll definitely have your hair up. Show off those shoulders. I don’t know why you were hiding under all those frumpy clothes.”

  “I wasn’t hiding,” Bernie said.

  “Well, I’m glad you took this journey with us. Your transformation has been amazing. And now we can finally get some good pictures of you. The before and after visuals will be terrific.”

  “You haven’t had enough pictures?” They’d run a few with each story, but they were mostly taken by Colin’s phone, candid shots of her with her dates, or pictures of the places they went. Nothing posed, nothing with too much of her face, just enough to show off the clothes in the wild.

  Clea snorted. “Colin wouldn’t let us send a photographer along on the dates. Said it would spook you. Can you imagine?”

  Yes, she could. There was no way she could have been herself with a camera in her face. Colin knew that, even from the beginning.

  “I almost sent Pia to do the story instead.”

  “Roller derby Pia?”

  “Mmm-hmm. I’ve been looking for an opportunity for her. This story seemed like a good match for her.”

  “Colin did a good job.” Bernie wasn’t sure why she was defending him. He didn’t even need defending. Besides, he’d gotten what he needed from her; he didn’t need any more.

  “He did. I sometimes wonder about the directions he took, though. Too quiet. Pia really knows how to make a splash.”

  Makeda snorted.

  “This event is going to be amazing. Makeda, is everything set up for the step-and-repeat?”

  “Pia’s doing that,” Makeda said.

  Clea looked briefly panicked. So much for Pia knowing how to make a splash. “Great,” Clea said, sounding like the idea of Pia being in charge of the step-and-repeat was the opposite of great.

  Bernie wondered what a step-and-repeat was.

  “I’m going to just go check on a few things,” Clea said in a rush, then ran off. Like, literally ran, her heels making urgent clacks on the polished concrete floor.

  Bernie watched her, wondering how she did that.

  All this time, and she still couldn’t walk in heels.

  “The two of them are driving me crazy,” Makeda said around a mouthful of pins.

  “Your boss?” Marcie asked.

  “No, Colin and Pia. I swear, the two of them are like cats.” She pinned the last pin into the side of Bernie’s dress and stood back to assess their work.

  “Isn’t Pia after Colin’s job?”

  Makeda dismissed the idea. “Colin’s got it in the bag, thanks to you. Pia’s still going all out on this party, though. Thinks she can pull through at the last minute. But one
party does not make up for everything you and Colin went through together.”

  Ha. Together. That’s why she was standing up on a pedestal wearing a totally non-Bernie dress, getting ready for a party she absolutely did not want to attend.

  “I’m just saying it’s a good thing you agreed to do this story.”

  “Sure,” said Bernie. It was a good thing, even though it was hardly a conscious thing. She’d been raised to see things through to the end. That was why she kept showing up for dates when the odds were not in her favor of having a good time on any of them. That was why she was standing on a pedestal getting fitted for a dress that would involve her wearing heels in public.

  She definitely wasn’t doing it for Colin. Why would she do it for Colin? She didn’t like him. She’d do this last thing to see the story through to the end; then she’d go back to her happily boring life, just with better clothes and the skills to handle a date or two. Maybe three in a year. Just enough to remind her that she didn’t like dating, but that she wasn’t totally undateable.

  “Perfect. Be careful taking it off that you don’t get stuck with a pin.”

  “Oh, now you’re concerned about her getting pricked?”

  “Honey, this whole thing was about her getting pricked.” Makeda and Marcie laughed and Bernie smiled along with them, even though that wasn’t true. It was about her proving that she could date. She could totally date. She didn’t particularly want to, but she could.

  “Are you sure it will be ready in time?” Marcie asked.

  “That’s what interns are for.”

  “I need an intern,” Marcie said.

  “Okay, I’ll have Colin drop this off in a few hours. Then he can take you to the club.”

  “No! No, ah. Marcie can pick it up, right?”

  “I can?”

  “I’ll give you all my makeup,” she whispered.

  “I can.”

  “That’s good,” Makeda said. “Surprise him with your fabulosity. I like it.”

  This had nothing to do with Colin, Bernie thought. And soon, neither would she.

  * * *

  When Pia had told him that they’d booked Ruby Skye for the big finale, Colin had assumed they’d be in one of the smaller private rooms of the notoriously huge club. They just needed a space big enough to hold thirty guys who weren’t good enough for Bernie, the staff of Glaze, and a few visitors.