The Art of Dating

by Messe, Ellie

  I go to speak when I realize we haven’t done any of that in years; we were so caught up with our work that we usually went out separately. “For a moment I thought we were still going out all the time but when you asked that it made me realize that I can’t even remember the last time we went out together.”

  “So what did you do together?”

  “Work.” I laugh without humor, “We’d order in and watch T.V a lot though.”

  God, was I really that boring? Maybe I was the one that drove him away after all. Monica was always bragging about her busy nightlife and all the events she was attending.

  “What about sex?”

  I feel the heat spread up my neck. “What about it?”

  He smiles at my embarrassment, “Were you having sex?”

  “That’s none of your business.”

  “I’m trying to find the holes in your relationship, so I know where needs work. Sex is pretty important in a relationship.”

  “There were never any complaints.”

  “So, no then.” He nods, stopping the can I’m still spinning.

  “Again, none of your business. Put that in the ‘don’t need to fix’ pile.”

  “He slept with someone else.”

  “Really?” I gasp, “I had no idea. All this time I thought they were doing their taxes together.”

  “Cute.” He deadpans.

  “It’s not up for conversation.”

  “Fine, we’ll come back to that one.” I start to protest, but he continues, “I know you’re an editor,” I nod, “Apart from that, what do you do?”

  I offer him a shrug, “Nothing really.”

  “You can’t be that boring, Devina.”

  “I don’t know, depends on my mood.”

  “So you just sit on the couch all day, every day? You don’t have a favorite show or listen to music?”

  “Sometimes. I watch what everyone else is watching, and I listen to music if someone puts it on.”

  “But what do you like?”

  “I like walking; sometimes I walk around just to watch people in the park. I like to make up stories for them like what they do and where they’re going.”

  “Good, alright what else?”

  “What else.” I echo, wringing my fingers together.

  “It’s not hard.”

  “It is when you have someone telling you you’re boring.”

  “Interests, Devina.”

  “Sometimes I draw, I don’t really watch television because I hate commercials, I prefer movies; nothing specific. Above all, I love to read; books, receipts, magazines, anything with words I’ll read.”

  “Nothing about that’s boring. What do you draw?”

  “Mostly doodles. When my mind is too occupied or if I’m burned out from editing I’ll draw whatever comes to mind to help clear the clutter.”

  “Are you good?”

  “No,” A small laugh breaks through the discomfort. “But it helps clear my head.”

  “The last two times I’ve seen you, you’ve been..” His sentence fades as he tries to stifle a smile,

  “Well, not like this.”

  “Amy likes to dress me up like a doll.”

  “So this,” He waves at my body, “Is you normally?”

  “Yes.” I jut out my chin.

  “Are the dorky glasses and weird colored sweaters a statement?”

  “No,” I glance down, I really don’t see anything wrong with what I’m wearing.

  “And the,” he pauses articulating with his hands around my hair, “Mane and no makeup?”

  “I’m clean.” I shrug. “Cole always liked the fact I wasn’t one of those girls who took nine hours to get ready.”

  “Are they prescription lenses?” I nod, “This is the first I’ve seen them, is it safe to assume you have contacts?” I offer another nod, while his eyes look over me in thought.

  It feels like I’m standing in front of him naked rather than buried under the safety of my oversized clothing. The way his eyes travel across my body makes me feel insecure like he’s making a list of all my flaws.

  “Do me a favor, walk to the counter and back.”

  “Why?”

  “I want to see the way you walk.”

  “What does my walk have to do with getting Cole back?”

  “Well if you walk as lazy as you sit, quite a bit.”

  “I don’t sit lazily.” I grip, straightening my posture.

  He smiles in response before waving towards his kitchen.

  Standing up, I twist my sleeve in my hands, “It’s going to look weird cause I know you’re looking for flaws.”

  “How do you know I’m not looking for a cheap excuse to check out your ass?”

  I crack a small smile at his joke, though self consciously I brush off my pants, and pull my sweater down before walking to the island counter and back.

  “Again.”

  I blow out a breath and do it again.

  “Stop being so nervous. I can see it when you walk, just relax. Do it again.” I do. “Drop your hands before you twist a hole into that sleeve.” Releasing it, I notice the stretched fabric wrinkle and curl at my wrist. “Again.”

  I walk the distance three more times before he lets me sit down again.

  “I think I have everything I need for the time being. Can you come back tomorrow, same time?”

  “Um, I’m scheduled for six chapters tomorrow, and I’m already behind on todays. Can I let you know tomorrow?”

  “Tomorrow’s fine.”

  “Okay, then. I guess I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” I say, standing and collecting my still full drink.

  “I can take that for you.” He offers, but I hold it to my chest.

  “That’s okay. I’ll take it with me.”

  Walking me to the door, he opens it and leans against the frame, “Until tomorrow.”

  “Bye.”

  Walking down the hall, I hear his door close and let go of the breath I didn’t know I was holding.

  I came in here worried I was going to get murdered and I’m leaving feeling smaller than a grain of dirt. Who would have thought my earlier fear seems like the better option. Selecting the ground floor, I try not to focus on how negative that all felt. If I do, I’m sure to cry, and no one needs that.

  Holding my head high, I exit to find Caleb waiting with the back door open, “I’m glad to see you’re still alive, Miss Devina.”

  The noise that comes out of me is part laughing part cry, and I bite my lip to chase the tears as I climb into the back.

  He drives me home in silence while I force myself to be a big girl. If Logan can point out that many flaws, how many did Cole notice? Is that why he decided to move her in when I left? Not one call, text, or email with an explanation or apology. My lips trembles as Caleb opens my door; I give him a nod in thanks because if I open my mouth, it’s sure to release the dam behind my eyes. Making quick work of the stairs, I lock myself in the apartment. Climbing onto the couch, I hide under a blanket as I did as a child only instead of counting sheep, I’m counting every flaw, bad decision, and every reason I gave Cole to seek out another woman.

  The tears flow unchecked while they try to keep pace with the growing number in my head.

  CHAPTER TEN

  I pulled myself together before Amy got home from work, though puffy eyes and a runny nose are hard to play off with someone who’s known you your whole life. She didn’t push for information after asking how the day went, no jokes, no pressure, she just climbed onto the couch and gave me cuddles while we binge watched some British show she’s into. Before bed she offered me her two-cents, assuring me the first day is always the hardest. The first day of school, of a new job, living alone, it’s all the same, but no matter what I decide to do, I’m her favorite person, and she'll support whatever I want to do.

  Due to the pity party I threw myself, I didn’t finish my chapters for the day, putting me even further behind for the next. This would normally drive me cra
zy, but I welcomed the inconvenience for the sake of being allowed to cancel Tuesday’s classes with Logan without guilt, finishing my book and getting halfway through another wasn’t a bad day at all.

  Rising with the Wednesday sun, I woke feeling like my skin had grown an extra layer overnight, less bothered by Logan’s remarks or my wounded ego. The more I thought about it, the more I realized I’m upset with myself and the person I’ve become and that my anger was misdirected at Logan. All he did was tease me about my clothing and lack of presentation when it came to my hair and makeup.

  Deciding to wear my hair up in a messy bun, I threw in my contacts and dressed in what Amy calls my 'least offense top.' Apparently, it looks super similar to some obnoxiously expensive designer sweater that was all the rave this last fall. I still decide to go without makeup but my skin is clear, and the bags under my eyes are minimal.

  “You look well today, Miss Devina,” Caleb says, holding the car door open for me.

  “Thanks,” I smile, getting in.

  I'm sure he meant to say I look like I’m not about to cry like the last time I saw him, but I’m chalking this up to a compliment.

  Caleb drops me off once again in front of the white brick building on 5th Ave. I wait by the elevators until one finally returns, scanning the card, I ride up to the seventeenth floor, determined not to let Logan get inside my head. I won’t think badly of myself, not again.

  Knocking on his door, I wait in the vast hallway until it swings open.

  Logan stands in a white button top, black slacks and fancy leather shoes.

  Stepping away from the door, he leaves it open as he walks back inside. “I see you’ve raided Bill Cosby’s closet again.”

  I follow him rolling my eyes at the back of his head. His fingers work down the buttons on his top as he speaks, “I just got in, you’ll have to excuse me for a moment. Make yourself at home.”

  He retreats past the kitchen, entering a hall where the white fabric falls away from his shoulders. My eyes immediately avert to the window. I try not to think about what I just saw, but I mean, I didn’t know men had muscles like that on their back. Sure, I read about things like that on fictional characters but never in my wildest dreams did I think I’d see it in real life. I shake my head, hoping to rid the image of his golden skin; those dimples right above his pant line, and the muscle running the length of his spine as if his ass was Moses parting the red sea, but I just can't seem to make it stop playing on a loop.

  “Sorry to keep you waiting.” I yelp, twisting in his direction. He’s changed into a gray shirt, jeans, and basic looking boots.

  God, was I really focused on his back that long? Correcting my face, I offer him a polite smile.

  “How did editing go?”

  “Well,” I admit. “Even got a few of tomorrow’s finished as well.”

  “Are you enjoying the author’s story?”

  “I am, thank you.”

  Twisting my sleeve, I look back out the window; everything seems so small from up here.

  “So from our conversation on Monday, I’ve compiled a list of things we need to improve.”

  My stomach drops, I wasn’t expecting him to say them out loud. Squaring my shoulders, I face him with confidence only skin deep.

  “Have a seat. I forgot to pull it out.”

  Forgot to pull what out? He rushes off toward the living room behind me, a moment later, he walks backward pulling a whiteboard on wheels between the kitchen and my seat. Oh, God. He isn't just going to say everything that's wrong with me; he's going to write them down.

  Once it’s in front of me, he applies pressure to the lock attached to the wheel to keep it in place. It’s large enough to cut off my vision to the majority of his kitchen. ‘DATING’ is printed in large letters across the surface.

  “Do I have to call you Mr. Devitt now?” I smile, sitting in the same armchair I used on Monday.

  He returns my smile while gathering a marker off the kitchen counter.

  “Dating,” He starts, “Demeanor,” He points to each letter of the word while he speaks, “Appearance, Timing, Infatuation, Negotiation, and my personal favorite, Get Laid.” He ends with a wink.

  I roll my eyes earning me a glare. “That twitch in your head falls under demeanor, don’t be an asshole.”

  I huff defensively, “My demeanor is fine.”

  “You're boring.” He deadpans me.

  “I am not boring.”

  “You have the personality of a wet napkin; you need work.”

  I keep my head high even though the insult stings, “Cole likes my personality.”

  “Apparently not. First, we’re going to try and find something about you that doesn’t suck. Second is appearance,” His face curls in disgust as he looks over my outfit, “That’s going to be expensive but doable. Third, Timing; after I’ve fixed your personality and made you relatively pretty we’re going to stage a meet with Kode-”

  “Cole.”

  “Whatever, we’re going to ‘accidentally’ bump into him. From this encounter, it’s going to launch us right into Infatuation. You’re going to be so irresistible at that point he’ll be crawling on his hands and knees to get you back, bringing us to Negotiate. That’s where you will lay out your list of demands while holding his balls in the palm of your hand. Once he agrees, and he will, you get to Get Laid. Easy.”

  I have to admit; I’m very fond of I through G. “When do we start?”

  “Now.”

  I take a deep breath knowing he’s going to rip me to pieces first and nod. “Then let’s begin.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Logan comes to sit next to me on the opposite chair like last time. “For starters, stop ringing out your sleeves; it showcases your nerves and lack of confidence.” My fingers release the strained fabric. “Loosen your arms, open yourself up.” Not really sure what he means, I place my hands loosely in my lap. “No, you’re doing this,” He curls into himself, his shoulders pinch around his neck as he hunches forward, his arms stiff against his lap. “You want to be like this,” Pushing his shoulders back, his chest comes forward, his stiff legs loosen to a casual rest as his arms relax. He nods to me, “Try it.”

  I attempt to recreate his posture to the best of my ability, but it feels forced and uncomfortable.

  “Relax, Devina.” He smiles, “You’re not meeting the Queen. Sit comfortably, but don’t fold into yourself. Body language will help with your self-esteem and confidence. Devina, stop fidgeting.” My hands still immediately.

  “Sorry. It’s habit.”

  “No, you’re nervous. Breathe.”

  I take a deep breath keeping my arms steady.

  “Good. Now lift your chin. You already look more confident. Let’s work on your posture, raise your shoulders and take a deep breath.”

  It’s weird, but I feel like the air is clearer, my heart seems to be beating at a normal rate and the sweat coating my palm feels thinner.

  “With your shoulders back and head held high, you look self-assured and poised; more confident, and in turn, more attractive.”

  I kind of feel like it too.

  “Don’t move,” He warns when my shoulder begins to drop. “Remember the position you’re currently in. This is your homework; I want you to master this, I need it to be your default setting."

  I try to take a mental image of myself. Trying to memorize how I feel in this pose.

  "What I’ve done here is put you in what’s called a power pose. Studies have found while practicing a power pose for two minutes you significantly increase your testosterone and lower cortisol levels. When practiced regularly you'll see long-term changes in your confidence. Which is essential in dating; no one wants to be with a pushover with low self-esteem.”

  I nod, taking another breath. Amy always complains I’m too hard on myself and he’s not wrong about the low self-esteem part. Maybe he's onto something here.

  Standing up, Logan moves over to the whiteboard, writing ‘postur
e’ under the D.

  “Does this mean I’ve aced my first day of training?”

  He laughs while shaking his head, “You’ve been here for less than an hour. Training isn’t over yet.”

  Damn. I was feeling pretty good about myself there for a minute.

  He sits back down and looks me over, my heart picking up pace. My shoulders are squared, my chin is up, nothing is crossed or slouching. What am I doing wrong?

  The right side of his mouth tips up on the side, “During our conversation, I noticed that not only do you close yourself off to make yourself appear smaller but also that you don’t make any direct eye contact. If I move, you’ll look at me, but it’s always brief. It’s important to make eye contact in conversation; you come off truthful and engaging. By always averting your eyes you're not only hurting yourself but the relationships you build.” His head tilts to the side while a slow smile grows, “There are those beautiful eyes.” I drop my gaze at the compliment, but return to his face when I catch myself, “You need to learn how to accept a compliment.” His finger idly taps his bottom lip, “Do you like your sweater?”

  I look down at the fuzzy multi-colored stripes, “Yes.”

  “I don’t.” I feel my body deflate, why is he always picking on my clothes? “Does the fact we have separate opinions change yours?”

  “No.”

  “The same thing applies when you receive a compliment. You don’t have to agree with it for it to be that person’s truth. We all perceive beauty differently.”

  Except he's already more or less told me, I'm ugly. I don't point that out. Instead, I meet his eyes, “Fair enough.”

  “Straighten your posture.”

  My shoulders lift immediately, “Sorry.”

  He waves off my apology as he studies me once again. “Eye contact.” He points, “That’s where we were. It’s important to hold eye contact, stop chewing on your lip when you hold eye contact you’re more likely to be assertive and more alluring. If you avert your eyes while someone is speaking, you look bored, and by doing it while you're speaking, you come off dishonest. Eyes, Devina.”