“You’reright about that,” Esther agreed with a disappointed shake of her head. “Thesex isn’t nearly as good since Harry became a ghost.”
***
“Idon’t know about this,” I groaned to myself, staring at the screen and suddenlyfeeling nauseated by the lovey-dovey mushiness staring back at me.
Thewebsite in front of me displayed a slideshow of happy couples. One smilingcouple shared a milkshake while sitting side saddle back-to-back on a carouselhorse. Another pair were clearly on a camping trip, roasting marshmallows;their hands overlapping on the same stick. It was cheesy, and while none ofthose particular activities enticed me to the point of jealousy, I had to admitI wished I had someone to at least hold hands with. Just maybe not on a sandybeach with a sundae.
Undera banner encouraging single men and women to sign up, there was a big glowingbutton reading “CLICK ME,” and I suddenly felt like Alice after making hergrand entrance in Wonderland. But despite my reluctance, I clicked. I halfexpected for the page to load with a caterpillar smoking a pipe, asking “huh-ooo” I was, which would’ve been a lot more exciting thanthe questionnaire that popped up instead.
Firstname:Holly.
Lastname (optional):I opted out.
Dateof birth: 1/28/1985.
Haveyou ever been married? No.No thanks to my ex-boyfriend and his lover.
Doyou have kids? Want them? No and yes.
Wheredo you live? Long Island, NY.No way in hell I was putting down the town Ilived in for these nut jobs to come find me and leave hair clippings on myfront stoop.
Whatis your ideal first date? I’m not into bars, clubs, carousels, or walks on thebeach, but I really like a good book and a good cup of tea, so a bookstore anda café sounds like a plan to me.I figured that would really reel the guys in.
Tellus a bit about yourself: I’m a 31yo woman living on Long Island with my sisterand her kid, because my ex-boyfriend decided I wasn’t man enough for him andleft me for his boss. Oh, work? Nah, I don’t do that either, in theconventional sense. My ex-boss fired me because I’m apparently too much of agrandma to write romantic advice for teenagers, so I babysit my sister’s kidfull-time in exchange for room and board. Fun work stories? Probably notgonnaget ‘emfrom this gal.I had a good chuckle atmy own expense, and knowing that wouldn’t do a whole lot for me, I hit thebackspace key until the space was empty once again.Hi, I’m Holly. I’m 31years old. I hope there’s someone out there who loves sitcoms, cats, books, andtea as much as I do. Could that be you?
Aftersubmitting the form, the site prompted me to upload a picture of myself (alsooptional), and to create a username and password (mandatory). I found an oldcollege picture of me dressed as a witch for Halloween. Lame, but hey, it’swhat I had on hand and it was better than me making some pathetic attempt attaking a decent selfie.
Thefinal step was to create a username. I thought about it for a moment. It seemedso important, like this was the finishing touch that would seal my fate. WouldI find a prince, or would I find a toad? Would I make myself enticing or wouldI find myself a place at the bottom of the barrel? There was so much pressureand I couldn’t decide, so I just picked my old AOL username: HollyCatLover28.
“You’regonnabe a hard one to sell,” I laughed to myself asI completed my profile, and waited, not bothering to hold my breath.
CHAPTERNINE
HOLLY
Ihad scoured the pagesupon pages of men, browsing as though theywere shoes. Except instead of shoes, I was looking at countless pictures ofusually half-naked men. Some of them really should have kept their shirts on,while others I was convinced didn’treallylook that good, and James hadbeen one of the latter.
Hispicture looked like a professional headshot of a successfully dishonestpolitician, and convinced that he wassomebody, I checked out hisprofile. I learned that he was the owner of a few local businesses, restaurantsnamely, and apparently loaded. Although I wasn’t convinced I would be the typeof person he’d go out with, I decided in a moment of optimism to give it a shotand messaged him.
Tomy surprise, he replied and asked if I’d like to go out with him to Bankers,one of the fanciest steakhouses on Long Island, and I said yes withouthesitation.
Bankersis not just any steakhouse. It’s a "fifty dollars for a steak the size ofyour eyeball” type of steakhouse. Only the wealthiest people on Long Islandcould afford to eat there on a regular basis, and the rest of us just had tosettle for gathering around the back door of the kitchen to savor the wafts ofsearing beef. But not this girl. No, this girl was going to check it out firsthand, and a hot stud named James was going to make that happen.
Assuminghe’s really a hot stud and not a troll taking the day off from tolling bridges.
“Whatdoyouknow about online dating?” I had rolled my eyes at Brandonearlier in the day, after he had scoffed at the sheer thought of me having adate.
“Uh,enough to know that you could be going on a date with the Zodiac Killer. I hopeyou’re at least packing pepper spray,” he said as he took a sip of his coffeewhile I stared with horror. “Oh, I’m sorry. Should I trust that this guy isreallya rich business-owner with the looks of a dashing Disney Prince? That’s apretty cliché story to tell to lure gullible women into his house of horrors.”
“I’mnot gullible,” I stated defiantly, more to convince myself than him.
“Whateveryou say, pal.” Brandon took another sip of coffee.
WhileI had wanted to laugh and get back to a dirty scene between a French maid andthe Duke she served, I couldn’t shake the idea that maybe he was right. I hadbeen so excited by the prospect of a date with an attractive, successful manthat I hadn’t stopped to wonder if I was setting myself up to die in a basementtorture chamber.
Brandonhad opened his own book but caught my distressed expression before he beganreading. Laughing, he said. “Holly, relax. I’m joking.”
Jessiehad sat down in her chair and was preparing to read her chosen stories. Annawas well on her way to LaLaLand, and as soon as Ilifted my book to begin reading, I placed it back down in my lap, unable to letit go.
