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I pull off my sweatpants and T-shirt, changing them out with my winter weather outfit. I braid my hair in two long pigtails and throw a beanie on my head, remembering to grab my mittens and clear fanny pack.
I’m excited to meet Matthew in person and get to know him better. We’ve spent the last two weeks talking, and he seems like a good guy. He lives a couple blocks away and has a golden retriever, Daisy, he walks up to the National Mall when the weather is nice. He told me he’s not sure what he’s looking for, but he enjoys talking to me.
A cheesy line, but it’s not fair to judge him; I’m not sure what I’m looking for either.
Something serious, maybe? Someone to have fun with without any labels? I’m standing on a tightrope, awkwardly teetering between the desire to commit to someone,justsomeone, and enjoying what life can be like as a single woman.
I have a good job and a good set of friends. I know what I like and I have my fun. I also know I’m young and I don’t need to decide anything about the future right now, but the nights I spend in my apartment alone have shifted from empowering self-fulfillment to loneliness. There’s an ache in my chest when I imagine the thousands of people out there happy, living with their person and content as a clam. I’m not sure how to combat that longing of missing out on something important that everyone else around me seems to have.
I guess by putting myself out there and going on dates to football games with men I meet online.
“Ready,” I call out. I grab the lucky pair of white sneakers I wear on game days and hustle down the hall. “I just need to find my jacket. Where’s Aiden?”
“He got tied up at the hospital and is meeting us there.” Maggie grins and tugs on my hair. “You look hot, Lace.”
“Like a hot blueberry.” I tie my shoes and grab my keys. “I feel like today is going to be a good day.”
“Do you think the Titans are going to win?”
“No. I mean, yes, I do. I can’t explain it, but it feels like something big is going to happen.”
“Sounds like someone is excited about their date. Maybe Matthew is going to be the love of your life,” she says.
I don’t have the heart to tell her I don’t think it has to do with Matthew at all.
* * *
“Look.”Maggie points at the pixelated screen across the field from us. “It’s kiss cam time. Oh, I love when they do this. It’s so cute to see so many people who love each other.”
“What if the camera people get it wrong?” I ask. “What if the couple they show are brother and sister? Second cousins? What if someone is getting dumped at the game? Things could get weird.”
She laughs and turns to Aiden, no doubt asking him to do something that will get them on the big screen. Maybe he’ll hold up his shirt and flash the stadium. Do a stupid dance where everyone points and laughs. There’s nothing Maggie could ask for that he wouldn’t give her.
I glance over at Matthew, my date, who’s standing next to me. His hands are shoved in the pockets of his jeans and his eyes are narrowed on the railing in front of us. He looks miserable.
“Hey,” I say. I nudge his shoulder with mine in an act of single people solidarity. “Are you having a good time?”
“Yeah,” he answers, but it doesn’t sound convincing. “It’s just colder than I thought it was going to be.”
“The winter games can be brutal. Do you want my jacket? That drink warmed me up.”
The mulled wine we grabbed in between the first and second quarter at the bar in the lounge downstairs soaked into my bloodstream and gradually heated me from the inside out. It’s a liquid protectant to the frigid bite of cold in the air, and it feels like I’ve stepped into a furnace. Transported myself to someplace tropical, with a mountain of blankets resting on my chest.
“Nah.” He rocks back on his feet and exhales. I see his breath, and he shivers. “I’m fine.”
“Okay.” I shrug and look up at the jumbotron, smiling as the camera pans to an older couple with matching tracksuits underneath their down coats. They wave, their hands clasped together and wrinkles on their skin. “Look how cute they are.”
“Kiss cams are so fucking stupid,” Matthew declares. “Half the PDA is probably fake. Orchestrated by a P.R. team to give someone good press. And almost all of these relationships will end in a breakup.”
I’ve never met someone with so much disdain for in-game entertainment before, and I frown.
“They’re just average people, Matthew. I like it. It’s fun to see so many generations and so many kinds of love. Look.” I gesture to the screen. “Those kids are probably on a first date, too. Oh. And there’s a dad with his daughter.”
I smile at the man holding up his little girlLion Kingstyle, joy clear on her face as he peppers her rosy cheeks with kisses. I’m about to mention the group of fraternity guys who are shown next, the men who lift their beer as a protest to love and chug back their drinks, when my own face appears.
I squint, and I wonder if I’m staring in a very large, very confusing mirror. I lift my hand and the me on the screen—the one that’s two stories high and large enough to see from Dulles Airport nearly thirty miles away—lifts their hand as well.
“Lacey.” Maggie shakes my shoulders. “That’s you.”
