Page 23 of Experiments in Offline Dating

We ate in cozy stretches of silence and easy chat. He didn’t interview me and I didn’t interview him. But when we were done with our tea and crumble, I sensed my reprieve was over.

“What do ye say, shall we go for a little walk outside? You can explore and meet the animals while we have ourselves a little chat.”

“Animals? That sounds fun. Would it be okay if I recorded the chat for the podcast? I may not use it, but I think listeners might be interested in what questions you ask me.”

“That’ll be just fine. That way we’ll have your answers on record in case my mind goes! Here. Find a pair of wellies there that fit. Just in case. One never knows what they’ll step in at a place like this.”

I laughed but did as instructed. He had lots of wellies in all sizes and colors lined up by the door. I found a red pair, clipped my mic to my cardigan, and we set out at a pace.

“This land here was bought by my grandfather when they moved from Wicklow back in, ohh . . . 1822, if I’m not mistaken. And most of it is just as they left it. From that hill there to about that road over there.”

Soft hills stretched out in every direction, and in the distance, round-topped rocky mountains framed the farmland with gray, unhurried brushstrokes, while stone walls broke the land into patchwork. The color green was somehow different here—highly saturated, glossy.

“Was the house here when they bought the land?”

“Oh, yes. I reckon that house has been here, looking pretty much as it is now, since sometime in the late 1700s.” I smiled and blinked into the sun. I liked that idea. That Jackie’s family had been here in this house for over two hundred years, bringing up big, noisy families and matchmaking the county.

The walk felt good. I had gotten a morning of extra sleep and quiet time, and now the soft sounds of the countryside, the wide horizon, and the fresh air on my skin soothed my nerves after a full day of sensory overload. I’d always been a city girl, but the country felt good. Different.

We walked into a nearby barn where Jackie held the lid open to one of the large plastic feed cans. “Here now, scoop some of that out, and we’ll give them a little treat.” He handed me an old plastic jug. I didn’t know what kind of animals these treats were for, but I was excited and didn’t want to spoil the surprise.

“So, why don’t we start with the basics, then.” His voice was gentle, casual, conversational. “What sort of person are you looking for, Maya?”

I took a deep breath. Here we go. Luckily, I was well practiced in talking through the intimate details of my nonexistent love life.

“Well, I like men. I’ve tried a couple of times with ladies but didn’t feel anything overwhelmingly sexual. That seemed like as clear an indicator as any.”

He nodded. “It’s always good to explore your options. Well, what sort of looks are you attracted to?” We left the barn, and I followed Jackie down a well-walked path where the grass had been rubbed away by too many wellies.

“I mean, frankly, I’m not that picky. I’ve dated all sorts of men, in all different shapes, sizes, and skin tones. Some were more attractive to me, of course, but never with enough overlap to categorize a type. Also, sometimes it’s the ones that are less pretty who have more character or a better sense of humor, right?”

“To be sure. All right, then, flexible on looks. That’s a good start.”

Uh-oh. Was that a mistake? Was it too late to tell him that I might have just discovered a new type—angry, bearded lumps of granite?

“And how about personality, then?”

“Well, I guess the basics—no jerks, no murderers, no book haters, no barnacles. They’d have to like cats. And be nice to their parents.”

“Barnacles? What the devil is that? Some unpleasant sex disease?”

I laughed. “Clingy. Someone who latches on and doesn’t let go. I would need a busy person who has their own stuff, because I have my own stuff. And I like a lot of time on my own.”

He studied me for a moment. “I see. Independent. What else?”

“Hmm. I think it would be good to find someone who helps me get out of my routines. Because I really like to try new things, but I don’t often think to do it myself. If I’m left to my own devices, I’ll just stay at home with a book every day. That’s why this podcast has been so good for me.”

“So, someone active with a bit of a sense of adventure. That was always top of my list too.” That made me wonder about Jackie’s partner. Did he have one? Where were they? But before I could blurt out a tactless question, he broke in. “Well, here’s a brand-new adventure for you, then!”

Jackie opened a gate and ushered me through before closing it behind us. He clicked his tongue, and suddenly, stampeding toward us was a herd of . . . teeny-tiny goats?

“What the heck are these? Why are they so tiny?” I laughed.

“They’re pygmy goats. That there is as big as they get.”

I giggled like a little girl and went ahead and sat right down in the dirt. They jumped up and poked me with their teeny little hooves and butted me with their tiny little heads.

“Oh my God! Can they fit in my carry-on?” Their fur was not as wiry as expected, and I tried to pet them all so that no one felt left out—eight, I thought, though they were too rambunctious to count. They licked me with their strange little tongues and rolled their creepy little goat eyes at me and bleated out their miniature voices. “They’re so affectionate!” I laughed as they climbed on me like a jungle gym. One decided that my big mess of curly hair was probably edible with enough determination.