28 Days Left
If people can come out of rehab in twenty-eight days, I think I can surely find a man in that amount of time.
It’s not time to give up hope yet.
Elf was awesome and just the break I needed. The weather wasn’t too bad. There was a light breeze blowing off the water. Tiki torches were scattered around the viewing area. I brought a blanket, snacks, and an ice chest with a couple of mixed drinks and relaxed under the moon and stars. The only thing missing was someone to snuggle and enjoy it with.
I need to work on learning how to flirt. Most women are born with this trait. I think I was standing in line twirling my hair and daydreaming somewhere when this trait was handed out. Another thing I need to work on is reading signals. I don’t think I always read the signals guys are sending correctly.
Maybe I should research this on the internet or read a book. Pitiful. Thirty-one years old and can’t flirt and can’t read guys’ signals.
***
“The funnel theory, girl! You must try the funnel theory! More men in!” my friend Rose said when I sent her a text about my dating dilemma.
Desperate times call for desperate measures. It’s now time to initiate my friend’s funnel theory. It apparently works because she has one of the best relationships I’ve seen. She’s a “thinker” and I’m a “feeler.” Maybe it’s time that I apply more thinking and less feeling to this search. Apparently, I need to find some balance somewhere.
This is how the funnel theory works. You put all your prospects into a funnel, and as you date and learn more about the men in the funnel, some fall through the funnel and only the good stuff is left.
Before I take stock and weigh who should remain in my funnel, I should say that I took her advice to heart. I text messaged or online messaged every dateable man I could think of. Gotta fill the funnel, right?
I sent a simple “What’s up?” then made myself a drink and sat back to see what would happen.
Chad was the first to respond. Chad and I have talked off and on for five years. This is longer than any relationship I’ve had. Chad is hot. If I had to rate the guys in order of hotness, Chad would be number two. Second to Jack—who really shouldn’t even be around my funnel! Chad is emotionally unavailable and has no intention of starting any kind of relationship. He does get points for being the first to respond though.
Joey was the second to respond. I can always count on him. I love my Mr. Right.
Armyguy, a guy I met recently through the dating site, was next. We ended up sending messages back and forth. He wants to go see a movie tomorrow night, but I have to work. Armyguy also gets the “Weirdest Response” mention.
I’m sitting and chowing down Thanksgiving dinner leftovers that Glinda sent me home with when my phone beeps, signaling a message. I look down to see that it’s Armyguy.
Armyguy: My dog just fell in the fire.
What? I’m picturing my poor Sammy and what my reaction would be if she happened to fall in a fire, but considering she’s a weenie dog and is two inches from the ground, her just falling into a fire is hard to imagine. That and she’s the laziest damn thing I’ve ever seen.
I’m still imagining this scenario in my head and nothing in this picture has me text messaging someone to tell them my dog fell in the fire. My mental image has me running around like a maniac and calling my mom, because every emergency in my house results in a call to Mom. Then, I’d be driving to the nearest vet at exactly two miles over the speed limit. Hey, I am no speed demon.
He finally messages back that all is good. And I’m relieved. For the dog.
No response from Ryder.
No response from Jack. Yes, my dumbass added his number back in my phone and messaged him. You know, just to see what kind of response I would get. Jeesh, I don’t know why I do this to myself. Oh yeah, I’m an idiot, that’s why.
That’s it. That’s the funnel for now. Five guys total. Honestly, though, Jack shouldn’t even be counted, Ryder is hanging on by a belt loop, and Joey should fall through also. But I like him there, so he stays.
I need more men in the funnel. Maybe I should try speed dating or something. Do they even still have that? I bet I could find it in New Orleans. And I wouldn’t mind a move to New Orleans.
For now, I’ll keep trying the online dating sites. I’m determined to make this happen.
Chapter Seven
Monday, November 28
27 Days Left
I came to a major realization today. I’ve been looking for the wrong man. Ding. Ding. Ding. Ding!
I’ve been looking for the same type of man for several years, not taking into account that I’ve changed considerably in the past couple of years. I came to this realization while browsing the fishing site this morning. When you join, you take a personality and romantic style test. I joined years ago, and most of my matches have been based on those results. So, this morning, I decided to take the test again. The results were so different. While I took it, I could see how I might have answered the questions then compared to how I answered them now. I know the results have to be valid.
After I took the test, I did a search based on compatible personality types. I was like a kid in a candy store. I was like, “Ooh, I like that one! Oooh, I like that one too! Man, there’s another one!”
This is good news.
I think I know what I’m looking for now. And you know what? It’s not Jack. And it’s probably not Ryder.
But you know what? It’s someone with Jack’s sense of humor and ambition. He would have Ryder’s adventurous spirit and good heart. He would have Joey’s intelligence and honesty. It’s someone with the best of all three. Now, if this person has the worst traits of all three too, I’m running like the wind in the opposite direction.
I sent several messages through the site, so maybe I’ll get some replies. If so, I’ll see where it goes. Hopefully, better than the last online date I went on. He was about as tall as the Orbitz gnome. He looked at my boobs all night, mostly because he had no choice. It was just weird. Then, when we left, he asked me to meet his parents. I wanted to ask what mushroom they lived in, but I didn’t. I didn’t go on anymore dates without checking the heights on the profiles.
If I get some replies, I’ll keep an open mind and see where it goes.
Decided to bump things up with Armyguy—I’m working a tight schedule here!—and suggested we meet soon. We managed to chat a while online. I tried to call him later but didn’t get an answer. Oh well. I’m working today, so who knows, maybe my guy will walk through the doors of the bar. I’ll keep my eyes open.
***
After my shift, I decide to stick around to play some music and ponder my dating possibilities. Maybe a few cocktails and conversations would bring some new epiphany.
I play some ’80s music on the jukebox and take my normal spot at the bar. It’s Monday and quiet. A good night to think and talk. Ryder isn’t here, so I can talk about him without him overhearing.
“Appletini?” Crystal asks as I sit back down.
“Why not?”
“So, what’s going on?” Morgan asks. “How’s the manhunt going?” Morgan is another regular, and like most small bars, there are very few secrets. My fishing for a man is common knowledge.
“It’s not. I’m doing everything I can think of,” I say. I tell him of the dating sites and about my disastrous night with Ryder.
Crystal sits the gorgeous green appletini in front of me, and I take a sip.
“Well,” she says, “I think the guy has the hots for you.”
“Ryder?”
“Yes, Ryder. You need to make a move and see what he does.”
“I am not making a move. I don’t even know what a move is.”
“He might be shy,” she says, and I am glad I wasn’t taking a drink at the time because I would have spewed martini all over the bar. Ryder is a lot of things, but shy is not one of them. Part of his charm is that he’s a shameless flirt.
�
�You should ask him if he wants to make out like teenagers,” she says.
Now that is an interesting thought. Making out with Ryder like a teenager? Of course, I couldn’t ask him to watch a movie, so I don’t know how smooth I’d be on the delivery with that one. But after a few appletinis, who knew?
I take another sip and consider making out with Ryder.
“You should tell him what’s in your heart,” Morgan says.
I do spew martini on the bar on that one.
Morgan pounds me on the back as I gasp for air. Tell Ryder how I feel? Morgan has lost his mind. Not only am I a dating idiot, I’m a coward.
“I can’t do that,” I finally manage to choke out. “It’d be easier to ask him to make out!”
“Well, darlin’, I don’t know what else to tell you.”
“I could talk to him for you,” Crystal offers.
“No! We’re not in grade school anymore. I’ll just see how it goes. I still have twenty-seven more days.”
“Twenty-seven days until what?” William says as he takes a seat beside me. William is a guy who comes into the Wahoo on occasion. I don’t know that much about him. He works offshore and is a single dad, so he doesn’t come in too often.
“I’m looking for a good man by Christmas,” I say.
“Oh, is that right?”
“Yeah,” I sigh.
“Sounds like you may have a little problem there.”
I give him the short version about Ryder and Jack. The mixed signals from the one and the lack of returned phone calls from the other.
“If I had your number, I’d call,” William tells me.
I peer at him over my martini glass into his blue eyes. “No, you wouldn’t.”
“Try me,” he says.
I roll my eyes and give him my number.
“All right. I’m going to call you on my way to work tomorrow.”
“No, you aren’t.” I’m still adamant. “If I had a nickel for every time a guy told me that and didn’t, I’d be a rich woman.”
“Girl, what kind of wall do you have up there?” he asks me.
“I don’t have just a wall. I have a moat and a dragon. Cross that.”
He throws his head back and laughs. “I feel ya. But I am going to call you.”
“Okay,” I say, and laugh. “We’ll see.”
The music on the jukebox ends and I take that as my cue to play a few more songs. I come back and sit with William and Morgan and talk about nothing in particular. I have one more martini, then decide it is time for me to go. I have a strict policy I tell all the new bartenders. No more than three martinis, no Jager, no tequila, and if I’m ever seen smoking, do not serve me anymore. Yes, there are stories that go along with those rules, but I’ll save those for another time.
Before I leave, I hug everyone, including William, and go home to snuggle with my not so snuggly Sammy.
Chapter Eight
Tuesday, November 29
26 Days Left
Ugh. Too many appletinis last night has my head fuzzy and my eyes blurry. Those things are potent. Good, but potent. I told entirely too many people about my crush on Ryder. It’s bound to get back to him if it hasn’t already. Great. That will make this situation sooo much easier.
William did call me on his way to work. I was surprised. We talked for about fifteen minutes. I had polled him about Ryder last night, asking him what he thought was going on. He ended up asking how one gets an invite to my house for dinner and a movie.
I didn’t have an answer for him so I said, “We’ll see.”
We talked last night about brick walls we have surrounding us, and our hearts. I don’t think mine’s just a brick wall. Like I told him, I think it’s a fortress complete with a moat and a fire breathing dragon and the Loch Ness Monster. It’s going to take a pretty sneaky—or persistent—person to get through all those defenses.
Prince Charming has his work cut out for him. I’m no Rapunzel who’s going to let her hair down just because he says so. It’s going to take some convincing.
Speaking of Prince Charming, he did not walk through the doors of the Wahoo last night. Just some regulars and older gentlemen there to watch some Monday Night Football.
But Armyguy sent me a text message asking me to dinner tonight. I accepted, and we made plans to meet at a local restaurant.
***
I arrive five minutes early for my date with Armyguy, and he is already there waiting for me in the lobby. My first impression? He’s precious. A cutie-patootie. He is your average military guy, short hair, skinny but muscular build. He’s a gentleman too. He opens the door as I walk up to the doors of the restaurant.
The hostess seats us and we order margaritas and start talking while looking over the menu. We talk about our families. I tell him my brother, Noah, is the Marines, and we talk about that. We show each other pics of our pets on our phones. As he shows me the pic of his Lab, he smiles, and I’m drawn to his grin and dimples.
The waitress brings our appetizers out, and I order another margarita. As she walks away, he says, “You’d better make sure you only pay for one.”
I freeze. What? I pay for one? I pay?
I have a total of ten dollars in my purse, and as I drove off earlier, I realized I’d forgotten my credit cards at home. I’ve ordered shrimp fajitas and margaritas. Ten dollars is not going to begin to cover my bill. My anxiety level rises from about a two to a ten.
Over dinner, I tune out everything he says until he sounds like the teacher from the Charlie Brown cartoons. In my head, I scroll through the list of all my friends who could possibly pop in and bring me money to pay. I wonder if I should excuse myself to the restroom to start making calls, or better yet, run like the wind and leave him there.
We finish dinner, me nodding and making the appropriate comments as he continues to talk. The waitress comes back, smiles, and asks if we want dessert. I gulp and give her a wide-eyed look as I decline.
When she returns, she brings the bill, and my heart pounds as she lays it by me.
I look at the bill, I look at him, hoping he’s going to take care of it.
And…he does.
I try to hide my big sigh of relief and finally concentrate on holding a two-way conversation. We wrap up the evening, and he walks me to my car. No kiss, but he hugs me.
“Can I see you again?” he asks as he lets me go.
“That sounds great. I will call you when I get home.” Or from the parking lot of the Wahoo. I’m not going home yet. I’m dressed up, which is different for me considering I live in t-shirts and flip-flops.
As I pull into the parking lot of the Wahoo, my phone rings. It’s Armyguy. We talk, then make tentative plans for the weekend. It looks good. He’s cute and nice. The best part? I know he’s interested. He returns my calls, asks me on dates, and seems to be a genuinely good guy. This could definitely be a good prospect. I’ll see where this goes. For now, in the funnel he stays.
Chapter Nine
Thursday, December 1
24 Days Left
First day of December. I really hoped to be farther along on this journey at this point than I am now. I’m no closer to finding Prince Charming now than when I began. At least I’ve weeded out a few prospects and have new ones at this point.
While I was in the Wahoo last night, some of my ex’s friends came in. I haven’t seen them since we broke up, so that was a little awkward. I wasn’t surprised when I got a message on Facebook from my ex this morning.
When I say that I’ve been single for a year and a half, it was this ex I broke up with. We were on again, off again for the better part of my twenties. Our relationship was either heaven or hell. There was no in between. This kind of contact usually sent me into a tailspin thinking about the good times. The road trips, the cards, the hand holding. Not the kind of thinking I needed to do right now.
I ignored his message and quickly made myself remember the reasons I left. The yelling, the moodiness, the unhappiness.
Coming home to a messy house after working all day. His friends all piled up in the house all the time. It had been a nonstop party. He was a musician and lived the life. I knew that when I met him, that had been part of his appeal. But when it came to responsibility, he couldn’t do that, and I got tired of doing it on my own.
I had come too far on my own to be drawn back into that web.
Speaking of webs I keep getting stuck in, Jack was the first man I dated after the ex. Seeing the ex’s friends apparently sent me into more than one bout of nostalgia. Jack was the first thing I thought of when I woke up this morning, and I instantly reached for the phone. I scrolled through the numbers and breathed a sigh of relief when I remembered that I had deleted his number again.
As I lay there, I replayed every single memory I had with him. When we met at the Marine Ball I had gone to with Noah. How handsome he had been in his dress blues. The coffee date, the night out when we went to hear a band play. To the last time I spent time with him at his house over a month and a half ago.
I don’t know what this urge is to reconnect. The fact that I’ve gone a week since trying to contact him? I’m sure writing this book doesn’t help. Whoever said writing was therapy was full of crap on this one.
I have so many regrets with him. Things I didn’t say. Things I didn’t do. Maybe I still need that closure. Maybe I just can’t let go…
***
I stare at the phone laying there beside me on the sofa, my thoughts once again turning to Jack. What is he doing? Is he in town? Jack, like many men in our area, took a job in the oilfield. But being the adrenaline junkie that he is, Jack accepts the more dangerous security jobs that take him to parts unknown for a month at a time. Jack isn’t just emotionally unavailable, he is simply unavailable for long stretches of time.
“I’m better off,” I say to myself. After all, wasn’t I looking for someone who was present?
Catch And Release (Fleur de Lis) Page 3