Marley: Going on dates, apparently. ClikClak is trying to hook you up.
No shit! I open the app and see yet another trending video for me. Okay, maybe that was not my brightest idea. I should probably not be on this app. I can't be trusted with the responsibility of it.
Me: Make me not read the negative comments.
Marley: Like I can control anything you do. If I could, you wouldn't be in this mess in the first place.
Me: That's not untrue.
My hand shakes as I begin to scroll through the comments. There are tons that tell me about a brother/son/cousin/friend who is available. But then there are those that are downright mean. Apparently, being an accountant is not well respected, and people are not shy about telling me I should be ashamed of it. I mean, just because I help people file their taxes doesn't mean I'm the one responsible for them. There's a bunch that say I don'tlooklike an accountant. I don't even know what that means. What's an accountant supposed to look like? A tight bun and glasses? No, wait, that's a librarian.
And then there are the ones that say I'm a three or a four and shouldn't expect much.
Ouch.
Or that I'm too desperate and needy and no man wants that. There's more than one "woof" comment. There is definitely a common thread that agrees I'm undateable.
People are mean, yo.
No, I have to remember that there are millions of people out there, so a few negative comments don't mean the world is mean. And that maybe, just maybe, one of the suggested brother/son/cousin/friends might actually be the guy for me.
Either that or I'm truly undateable.
Still, it's a little too overwhelming for my hungover brain to process, so I close the app. I think I've closed ClikClak more in the past five days than I ever did in the entire length of time leading up to last Friday.
I should try to focus on work.
And I will as soon as I respond to that Xavier Henry. I've had my share of impoliteness on social media. Responding to his kind words is the least that I can do.
Me: Thanks for recording the other night. I mean, I sort of wish you hadn't because, well, my life has blown up ever since. But I guess it's good to know that Trent is a … wanker. What is a wanker even? Is there any chance you got a video of him losing his shit? It'd be epic to post that. Oh, BTW, did you see his latest Insta post to me? Next time I ask you to record me, please make me go sit in a corner and think about my actions.
I got back to his profile, click follow, and then look at his latest picture. It's a selfie … with the Custom House in the background. At least it looks like the Custom House, which is my favorite building in the downtown skyline. Before I can stop myself, I flick back to messages.
Me: Wait, you're here in Boston? I live in Boston.
The minute I hit send, I wish I could take it back. It sounds so desperate.
This is why I'm not allowed to people.
I need to put myself in time out.
I send a quick message to Marley and my mom that I have to turn my phone off for a work thing, and if they need me, they should send an email. Then, I do the unthinkable and power off my phone.
It's for the best, really. I can't be trusted.
Why would I say that?
It's not like I'm going to meet up with him. I don't even know him. One kind message does not mean anything. Other than he probably now thinks I'm some kind of psycho stalker.
Speaking of which, I should look him up.
FOCUS, Ophelia.
Yes, I need to focus on my job that pays my physical bills but leaves a great emotional void. It's great to get lost and hyperfixate for hours at a time, but, you know, not exactly the career aspirations I dreamed about.
Here's the thing: I never wanted to do this. But with one brother in vet school and the other already through law school, the last thing I could do was tell everyone I wanted to be a writer. They would have said I was being foolish Ophelia, lost in her daydreams and out of touch with reality. Again. I'd heard that enough when I was growing up. I wasn't about to have that shoved in my face for the rest of my life.
If only I weren't too chicken to do the job I've dreamed of, instead of doing the job I'm good at.
