by Karli James
Kara0717: Don’t worry, Jude. We’re all a project. None of us have a damn clue what we’re doing. I heartily believe that. Or I’m in denial because it’s working out for everyone else, and I don’t want to believe that I don’t have what it takes to turn a guy’s head in my direction. Although I am short, so maybe they turn their head, but forget to look down.
This girl...God, it’s me again, thank you so much. Again.
TheJProject: I turned my head for you, Kara.
Kara0717: Metaphorically speaking, yeah, I guess you did. Thanks for that ;).
TheJProject: Metaphorically for now, maybe we can work up to literally.
Kara0717: You’re smooth. Why are you single?
TheJProject: I previously dated, Satan. When that delightful trip through hell ended, I took some time to wipe off the ash. When I was ready to start dating again, everyone I care about (it’s only two people actually) began setting me up on horrible blind dates.
Kara0717: Wait, what? Do they not care about you?
TheJProject: Right? I asked. They do. They just suck at knowing people.
Kara0717: Oh right. I get that. I suck at knowing people too, I have one best friend. She’s…a lot. Amazing, but a lot. So, she’s enough. Quality, not quantity folks!
TheJProject: Exactly. So, have you met anyone off of here yet, like in person, or…
Kara0717: I’ve had a couple bad coffee dates with total frauds.
TheJProject: Frauds? This sounds super interesting, please…go on. I love story time.
Kara0717: Lol. Okay see, I’m really not focused on looks, but they do matter. I mean you have to be physically attracted to someone right? It’s not like people wanna make out with someone just because they’re nice. People need to feel that…thing. That spark. Sigh. Okay, so if you’re putting up a profile pic, and it’s not really you, then you’re a fraud. It’s false advertisement. I thought I was getting a ribeye and what they brought me was a Salisbury steak. It’s not the same guys. Not.The.Same.
I’m dying.
TheJProject: Salisbury steak dates. I hate that for you. I can promise you that my pic is me. And hey, I’m bold enough to say I might even be better in person.
Kara0717: I believe you. And, same.
TheJProject: Your picture sucks, Kara.
Oh shit, that was the very real Jude, I wonder if she can hang?
Kara0717: LOL! It really does. I don’t care though. I’m horrible at taking selfies. That front camera? Such a bitch. Secondly, if someone is interested enough to meet me, then they can be pleasantly surprised? Maybe? Hopefully?
TheJProject: I already know I want to meet you in person, at some point.
Kara0717: At some point, maybe, yeah. You might be okay.
TheJProject: Hold back on the compliments, Kar. I’m feeling swept away by your adoration.
Kara0717: Oh, you’re right, too much? Too soon. I’ll slow down.
TheJProject: You’re a piece of work, aren’t you?
Kara0717: I’ve been told this.
TheJProject: I like it.
Kara0717: As you should.
TheJProject: Feisty.
Kara0717: Facts.
TheJProject: Lol, is it weird that I feel like I’m talking to myself?
Kara0717: No. I mean, I get it. I can tell you’ve got this witty banter thing down. I’m not sure that you’re better at it than I am, but you’ll get there. I have faith.
TheJProject: You’re too kind.
Kara0717: The sweetest.
TheJProject: I call bullshit.
Kara0717: As you should ;)
TheJProject: Kara, this has been delightful. However, it’s late. I’m shot. It took me a long time to find your diamond of a profile inside this rough ass pile of desperate seeking dick, females. I need sleepies. However, maybe I message you again sometime?
Kara0717: Frick. It is late. Yes. I work tomorrow, but I can hop on when I get home – though it probably will be late-ish.
TheJProject: I can handle late-ish.
Kara0717: Until then, then.
TheJProject: Sounds good, g’night.
Kara0717: Night.
Chapter 2
Kara
I stared at the screen in front of me, wondering when this guy was going to turn into a douchebag. By my calculations…aaaannny damn second now. Or at least, that’s what my past wants to convince me of.
Jude is cute from what I can tell; thickly lashed green eyes, full lips, he appears fit, but not bulky in build, still very attractive. He’s also hilarious. We’ve been chatting now for a couple of weeks, and his sarcastic wit is rolling with mine like two backseat lovers. I’m having a hard time fighting that tiny thrill that hums along the skin when you’ve met someone new and interesting; someone you wonder if you’ll ever get to kiss. However, we haven’t met in person yet, and I’m wondering if that’s going to happen because I prefer not to invest further chat time into this online business if this guy is going to end up being a total wanker. I’d rather be saved from exchanging a hundred thousand words over the next month, if I’m just going to be severely disappointed in the outcome. That is, if I’m just going to find out that, oh no, you don’t look like that actually and also your entire personality is about as thrilling at toast, then please move along.
TheJProject: How was work tonight?
Kara0717: Really good actually. Some guy at the bar, poor thing, thought he was finally going to be the one to win my affections and take me home. He did not, of course, but I do appreciate the heavy amount of tips he bestowed upon me during his delusion.
TheJProject: You. Are. Brutal.
Kara0717: Meh. Honest.
TheJProject: Am I also being delusional when it comes to you? Have I completely misjudged where this could lead, over the past couple of weeks?
Kara0717: I mean….
TheJProject: Why are you the way that you are?
Kara0717: Lol, don’t hate. Are you still bitter because I beat you in booze trivia last night? I mean, you do remember what my job is right?
TheJProject: Right, right. Bartender. How could I forget?
Kara0717: Clearly you have forgotten since I’m fairly certain I previously emphasized that I am a MIXOLOGIST!
TheJProject: I’m sorry, is there a difference?
Eff him. He knows there’s a difference.
Kara0717: Gasp! Is there a difference between a doctor and a nurse?
TheJProject: Umm, I’m sorry…did you just...holy shit. You did. You just compared yourself to a DOCTOR. A medically trained person, who can save actual human lives.
Kara0717: Oooookay, Judgy McJudgerson. Way to harp on details. I may not save lives, but I help mend broken hearts one cocktail, shot, and beer at a time.
TheJProject: Mending, or pick pocketing from the heartbreak? You little tease. You get these sad saps in there ready to give you the D, and you just smile, sashay, and politely thank them as they hand over their last penny.
Kara0717: Way to be dramatic. Hardly their last penny.
TheJProject: Theif.
Kara0717: Lies.
TheJProject: Con artist.
Kara0717: Scoff! I don’t lead them on. They assume based on my flirtatious smile, and a little cleavage that they have a shot. That’s on them, not me.
TheJProject: Cleavage?
Kara0717: That’s what you’re focusing on?
TheJProject: You mentioned boobs, Kara. So yes.
Kara0717: I never said boobs.
TheJProject: You said cleavage. Cleavage is essentially, boobs.
Kara0717: So, are you a boob guy, then?
TheJProject: Every guy is a boob guy, even if it’s not at the top of the list.
Kara0717: Are they at the top of your list?
TheJProject: No, but close. Middle range.
Kara0717: Well what’s at the top?
TheJProject: The ass, of course.
Kara0717: Really?
TheJProject: My fave. When designers started ma
king lounge wear with words stretched across the booty? Genius. Best thing to ever happen to me.
Kara0717: Damn Jude, you’re serious. And also, maybe sad. You need to get out more.
TheJProject: You’re right. So, time out. Can we meet? Face to face? Like, now?
Kara0717: Wait, what? Like right now? As in tonight?
TheJProject: Did I stutter?
Kara0717: Don’t be a butt. I can’t meet you in person tonight for frick’s sake. That’s not how you ask a girl! I’m not ready. I’m a mess. Hair in bun. Yoga pants on. What are you trying to do to me?
TheJProject: Meet the real you, and from what you just described that sounds pretty real. A real I can hang with. Come as you are. Local pub. You, me, beers. If we hate each other, we walk away. But to keep doing this? I will lose my absolute shit, Kara if you suck even an ounce after I’ve talked to you this much.
Kara0717: That’s the first time I’ve ever had a guy tell me he would lose his shit if I sucked even an ounce.
TheJProject: I’m legitimately laughing at that right now, but it doesn’t change the fact that I’m super serious. Let’s just do it. Rip the band aid off. I want to see your smile, especially if I’m the reason behind it.
Well. Daaaamn. I want that too. And I get where he’s coming from; I was just having the same thought process rolling around in my gray matter, but seriously? Can I? Now? What time is it? Oh. It’s seriously only nine on a Friday night. Yes. I can do this. Normally I would still be at work, but the owner decided to play bartender tonight so I was let off by eight.
I don’t want to go, but I want to. Fuuuuuck. But seriously I can’t go out in yoga pants and this? What is this that I’m wearing? Whose t-shirt is this? Oh, holy nopes. This is a t-shirt I stole from my brother about eight years ago. I’m so glam.
Kara0717: I have to have time to change at least. And what pub?
TheJProject: You are allotted 15 minutes for hair and wardrobe. Shaney’s Pub, Second Street, on the less scary end.
Kara0717: Wow. The less scary end. You really know how to treat a girl. Ok, I can meet you there by 9:45.
TheJProject: I can live with that. And yes, the less scary end. Only the best for you. I’ll buy you the big beer even. They call them tankers.
Kara0717: I’ve had their tankers, and damn right you will.
TheJProject: Wait you’ve been there before and you’re giving me shit about the locale? You’re a piece of work. Get your ass there, or be fuckin’ square. (Sorry, had to.)
Kara0717: I get it. But also…Impossible. I’m all curves and lumps.
TheJProject: Are you stalling? Fishing for a compliment? Get yourself there and I’ll tell you the exact truth about those curves I’ve partially only sorta kind of seen.
Well, hello there, unexpected tingles.
Kara0717: You’ve convinced me. Now let me go, so I can get ready.
TheJProject: ;)
I shut my computer down and run toward my bathroom: pee, brush teeth, fix messy bun into stylish messy bun. I pull from my closet dark blue skinny jeans, brown boots, long sleeve black tunic, with form fitting crimson tank underneath. Layers, girls. Layers.
Because here’s the thing: I didn’t lie on my profile. I am not a “skinny” girl. I’m not fat. But I’m not skinny. And yes, I recently lost some weight, but mostly I’m still curvy because that’s just my build. I have thick thighs, and an ass, and boobs that are slightly unequal in size. I don’t love this body, but I don’t hate this body. I do however have great hair. He’s just not going to get the full effect on last minute notice tonight. Too bad, so sad.
It’s still cold because I live in Western, NY and springtime never aligns with the proper calendar date. I grab my black pea coat, keys, and wallet. I’m starting my car when I realize I probably should have called a cab because…tankers. Shit. I’ll have to be careful or call a friend for a ride, or perhaps Jude and I can share a cab back. IF he remains in non douchebag status. We shall see.
The drive there takes me approximately fifteen minutes. I pull into the small, side parking lot and suddenly feel so grateful he chose Shaney’s. A small, hole in the wall Irish pub. Yes, you can grab a pint, but I’m a true American and I hate that sludge so much. Seriously, I do not want to drink something that looks and tastes like you could pour it into a cracked sidewalk for repairs. Sue me. I take a deep breath, climb out of my car and make my way into the dimly lit bar that feels like home the minute you step inside. As I’m looking around I hear my phone ding. I scrounge around in my purse to pull it out and realize I have a notification “You have one new message from TheJProject” – I swear if that motherfucker stood me up after I put on skinny jeans, SKINNY JEANS, for him, well…I will nev-
TheJProject: Back corner. Tanker is waiting. Move out of the way Kara, you’re blocking the door.
That bossy fuck. My head whips up, I see him in the back and oh holy sexiness, he’s better looking in person. He’s not just cute, he’s hot. I wasn’t really prepared for full on hotness. His hair is thick and has a bit of a curl to it. Instantly my fingers itch to feel it; would it be as soft as it looks? Yikes. I feel nervous but I steel my features and narrow my eyes at his smirk. Dick. I slowly walk to the table, take my coat off, slide the chair out and sink down, all the while never taking my eyes off of him, but also never saying a word. I picked up my tanker, gulped down what would have been several sips, smacked the thick glass back onto the table and said:
“You bossy fuck.” Shoot. I don’t have a good handle on this whole, not speaking every single thought you have, thing yet. His eyebrow quirked, his lips twisted further into that damn smirk, and I thought I was going to melt directly into the seat.
“So aggressive. Is that how you greet all your first dates?”
“Oooooh no. This isn’t a date, sir. This is a hang. A date is planned; a lady prepares. This right here is a very casual meet and greet. I’m not sure this will ever progress into a date because I get the feeling you like to be bossman big, and in control of all the things.” He laughs. A sound so attractive I need to dart my eyes elsewhere before they give away all my bravado. I look down at my phone to feign checking text messages. Well I actually did check text messages. Spoiler: None.
“I’m not generally bossy, but you seemed like you needed to be bossed about tonight. I can’t deny that there’s something about you that just begs to be told what to do now and then.” I felt heat rise to my cheeks. I’m not sure if he’s being sexual…or…what is he being? Either way I’m kind of pissed at his assumption, a little turned on, and a little pissed that I’m turned on.
“‘Scuse me? When did I ever give you the impression that I needed to be bossed around?”
“When you wanted to argue about coming here. Bullshit excuses about hair and yoga pants.”
“Those aren’t bullshit excuses. Those are facts. You can’t expect a girl to show up in her Sunday Worst when she’s meeting you for the first time. It’s unacceptable.”
“For the record it wouldn’t have mattered to me what you wore. I just wanted you here. That was the point.”
“While I can appreciate the sentiment, I’m a girl. And most girls, don’t work like that.”
“Ah. I didn’t think you were like most girls. Maybe I was wrong.” His tone changed, and he had a flash of disappointment; genuine fucking disappointment flash across his eyes. My cheeks burned with embarrassment, as I cocked my head to the side and studied him. A shutter had come down over his features, and he looked past me to the bar, rather than directly at me.