Valerie
“Okay,okay,okay.Deepbreaths, Valerie.” My racing heart is the only indicator that this whole process is making me one anxious mess. Why? I don’t know, since right now, it’s anonymous. I’m a profile on an app, maybe with a picture, and that’s it. As are all of the men I’m hoping are available for Christmas.
I kept my profile as simple as possible. Name and age were easy—Valerie Anderson, twenty-six. Same with location and occupation ofJuniper Grove, New Yorkandpreschool teacher. Facts are facts and thus easy. But the likes…what do I like and how much is too much to share versus not enough? What details about myself will garner the attention of someone I could be compatible with?
I end up addingcoffee, lilies, family, and books. A few of my favorite things, but not an overshare. Besides, those four things are always at the top of my list. The last part was what holiday I need a date for, which is obviously Christmas and surely a very busy time of year. Hopefully, somebody is available for me.
Now that I’ve submitted my profile, I wait. Or swipe. I’m not quite sure how these things work. Do I go after them? Or wait for them to come to me?
To be proactive, I guess I have to start looking. Right?
With a deep breath, I turn to the first profile and immediately cringe. An ugly sweater in your picture, while festive, is a no-go for me.
As I keep swiping no on profile after profile, I’m starting to lose hope. At this point, I’ve been through at least fifteen. When my phone pings, I jump in excitement, only to find that Paul is not at all my type and swipe no again. Three more come in quick succession, all nos.
It’s not until I come across a picture of a man where all I can see is his suit and tie that intrigue takes over. Who creates a dating profile and doesn’t show their face?
While I’m a bit confused by it, the idea seems to be working because I click on his profile to learn more. It’s pretty basic, like mine. He’s twenty-nine, an entrepreneur, though it doesn’t state what kind. He lives in town and is available for Christmas.
Hm. A man in a suit is a good thing. Right?
What if he’s ugly? Do I care that much? A suit is better than an ugly sweater. Or the onesie pajamas one guy was wearing.
Curling my fingers back in, I hesitate. Then swipe yes on his profile.
“Here’s hoping.”
The ping of a return is much appreciated so that I don’t have to wait in anticipation to see what he’ll say.
But now what do I do? He swiped an interest that I expressed first, so what’s the procedure from here?
The heels of my palms dig into my temples. I hate these sorts of things. It’s probably a big reason why I’m single.
But then a bubble pops up with a message, and I nearly choke on my tongue.
Chapter 3
Lincoln
Thistimeofyearis tough when you have no family. It’s not that mine are across the country, they don’t exist.
But I try to ease the pain of being alone, of knowing my parents are no longer with me, by finding company in the female form. It’s not ideal, but it keeps loneliness at bay.
When I heard about the Holidates app, I knew I had to sign up. I don’t make myself available any other time of year, as I don’t need the company as much. Right now, though, being alone is dangerous and depressing.
It’s a time of year when everybody is with friends and family.
At twenty-nine, I’m still a bachelor, so while my friends are with their wives and children, I’m on my own. It’s a sad feeling to be the only single guy at the dinner table.
Christmas is only a few days away, and so far, I have no plans. I’m not exactly looking forward to spending the holiday by myself. Well, I’ll be with my trusty side-kick Johnnie Walker. But he’s not a very good conversationalist.
The thought has me swirling my glass before taking a sharp sip, the burn traveling all the way down to my stomach.
A ping from my phone pulls my attention from the snowflakes outside my living room window. I take the phone from my front pocket and take a look at what requires my focus now. It could be anything from work to one of my buddies boasting about their fantasy football success this week.
Shock coils up my spine when I see it’s from the Holidates app. Apparently, somebody wants my company after all.
Clicking open her profile, I’m immediately intrigued. Valerie’s her name, and her profile is short and sweet, like mine. She’s twenty-six, a good age, and a preschool teacher. I wonder if that means she’s a littletoonice for a guy like me.
