Page 12 of Experiments in Offline Dating

I filled my lungs and gave myself a second. Okay. It’s showtime. Pretend you’re in the studio. Don’t say anything stupid.

I sat on my hands.

This can be fun if you let it.

I thought back to the Dating Show reruns and channeled their corny 1970s OTT flirtatiousness. “Hi, everyone. My name is Maya. I’m from San Francisco”—and? And what?—“and I flew fourteen hours today because I was told that Lisdoonvarna is where they keep the sexiest bachelors in the world.” The crowd went wild. Annie looked delighted. My spine relaxed a bit. Nailed it. Laughter was my positive reinforcement. Laughter and confidence had a direct, positive, causal correlation for me. That’s how I knew I was doing something right.

“And other than being on the lookout to find a sexy bachelor, what kinda things do you like to do for fun, Maya?”

“Well, honestly, I love watching dating shows.” Everyone laughed, but it wasn’t a joke. “It’s true: Love Is Blind, Blind Date, Love on the Spectrum, Naked Attraction, you name it, I’ve seen it! When I’m not doing that, I’m either pampering my many rescue cats or reading fantasy books.”

“And what . . . would you say . . . would be your fantasy for tonight, then, Maya?” I pulled at my collar and fanned my face. Everyone clapped. I was getting into it now. It was kinda fun. “What are you looking for in a man?”

“Hmm . . .” Pedro Pascal in nothing but slutty little glasses? No. Remember, they don’t want an honest answer. How should I play this? “Strong arms, a strong jawline, and of course . . . a strong Irish accent.” Everyone cheered. This was too easy. I sent a silent thank-you to the Guinness brewery.

“Well, let’s see if we can make your fantasies come true tonight!” She had to wait a moment for the crowd to die down. More people pushed in from outside, and the pub started to fill up. My stomach gave a little lurch, but I remembered that I already had the crowd laughing, so I was fine. “All right, so let’s get started. Bachelor Number One. Please tell us where you’re from, what you do, and why you’re here tonight. No names, please.”

“Ach, hello. My name’s Dan—”

“No names, Bachelor Number One!”

“Oh. Sorry. Then I’m from something something Mayo. Where I . . . something something something.” Holy crap. I had tempted fate and gotten what I’d asked for! This man’s accent was so outrageously strong that I couldn’t make out the words. It was all just sounds smooshed together. “Blah blah blah, something. The dog.”

“Oh, is that what they’re calling it these days, is it?” Annie said, and everyone roared with laughter, but I could only guess why. “Okay, thank you. Bachelor Number Two, same questions.”

“Right. Well, I come from County Leitrim, where I also have a farm.” He sounded a little over a hundred years old. “I’m here to find a girl who isn’t afraid to get her hands dirty.” Everyone laughed.

“And would that be from touching you, then, Bachelor Number Two?”

“One can hope, Annie. One can hope.” I couldn’t help but laugh right along with the crowd. I remembered the drink in my hand and gave it a little sip for moral support.

“Same questions to you, Bachelor Number Three.”

There was a big, breathy sigh on the mic, and I waited a moment before a low, gravelly voice rumbled, thick with what sounded like exasperation. “I’m from here. Also a farmer.”

“And tell us why you’re here, then.”

A scoff. “I’m here, Annie, because you gave me no choice in the matter.” This obvious reluctance only seemed to rev the crowd up more. Annie let out a big booming laugh.

“All right, Maya. You’ve heard from our three men, all fighting for the chance to take you on a date. Now it’s your opportunity to ask some of your own questions, and get to know them a little bit better. So, tell us, Maya, what would you like to ask, and which bachelor would you like to ask it to?”

“Well, thanks, Annie. I have so many questions. Let’s see . . .” Do I? No! Holy shit! But I knew how this game worked. Make it quick. Make it shallow. And give plenty of room for innuendo. “First question is to all three bachelors. What would you say is your best quality?”

“Bachelor Number One,” prompted Annie.

“Me best quality is . . . something something something right enough . . . blah blah big hands . . . yadda yadda with all those damn crows!”

“All right, then! You all heard that!” Did we? “What about you, Bachelor Number Two?”

“Well, I’d love to show you my best quality tonight, Maya, but you’ll have to wait until after dinner.” The audience roared. I think I actually heard the wink in his voice. I squirmed, but he was clearly the crowd favorite.

“Bachelor Number Three.”

“Oh, I would say that my best quality is that I always repay a favor, even when it goes against my better judgment. Like agreeing to come up onstage for this ridiculous circus. Wouldn’t you say so, Annie?”

I scoffed. That’s not how the game is played!

“And you’ll owe me another favor if you don’t start behaving yourself!” But Annie laughed, and it seemed the scolding was just for show. “All right, next question, please, Maya.”