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"Well, a unibrow is always better than the Unabomber, and with my luck that is completely in the realm of possibility," I mutter, which causes another wave of giggles from her. “Anyways, let’s not talk about worst-case scenarios. No point in tempting fate. If I put the idea out in the universe, I’m sure fate will bite me in the butt."
"Maybe you could get a gym rat?” she suggests.
“I think that would be my breaking point. I don't want to drink my meals in the form of kale smoothies," I whine. “Besides, I’m not exactly the gym type. So, the likelihood of being matched with someone like that isn't very high.”
"What if he's into cosplay?" Denise gags. Clearly, costumes don't do it for her.
"You say that like it's a bad thing. I wouldn't mind the characters and stuff. I'd take a nerd over some Wall Street big shot any day. What if he can pull off my favorite characters? That would be sort of sexy."
“Of course, you would,” she laughs.
“Hey, I think a Thor lookalike offering to show me his big hammer would be hot.”
“You’d get the nerd who makes his costumes in his mom’s basement, surrounded by jars of urine because he doesn’t want to take a break from his video games to go to the bathroom upstairs.”
"Oh God, where do you get your imagination?” I ask, shivering at the thought.
“I watch television. Okay, so, read me the responses so we can pick one.
"So far, there are three. The first one is from a guy named Joe, and he works as a bartender at a golf club, who enjoys golfing in his free time. He prefers movies to books. He recently graduated with a bachelor's in business and was in a fraternity. He has one tattoo that says carpe diem."
"Um, absolutely not. Next one." She says, and I agree entirely with her. I don't know about golf and movies over books? I own a bookstore.
"Second one is a guy named Dave. He owns a ranch a few counties over. He rides bulls in his free time. He's looking for a country girl who can work the ranch by his side and still rustle up some homemade grub at the end of the day."
"Is that actually what's in the email? Rustle up some grub?" she asks skeptically.
"Yes. I don't mind a tight pair of wranglers, but I know nothing about farms or bull riding."
"So, you won't save a horse and ride that cowboy?" she sings, laughing at her tone-deaf joke.
"Not quite. Okay, number three then. Um, so this one's name is Eugene." I say flatly, the corners of my mouth pulling into a frown. Who even had that name these days? Poor guy, I almost feel bad for him.
"Well, that's not very sexy," she says. I’ve got to agree with her. "How do you call out a name like Eugene when he's got you bent over the couch?"
"That doesn't sound fun at all. Eugene sounds like someone that would be your best friend, not your hot sex partner,” I mumble.
"Yeah, like he would probably be nice, but not exactly orgasm-inducing."
"None of these sound like someone I want to go out with." I'm on the verge of emailing Bianca and canceling anything further.
"You have to go out with at least one of them!" she insists.
"How am I supposed to pick one?" I ask skeptically. None of them are standing out as someone I want to meet for a date.
"I'm doing a random number generator over here. Whatever number it pulls up, you have to promise to set up the date, okay?" Denise insists, "That way, you can't cheat."
"Fine," I sit there, holding my breath. I'm not sure I prefer one over the other. She knows me too well and picked up on me not wanting to meet any potential dates.
"Oooohhh, okay, it picked a number. I'm sending you the screenshot!"
My phone dings, and when I open it up, it's got all three numbers in a wheel with the pointer. It landed on number 3. Eugene.
"Yay,” I whine.
“Oh, come on, give ole Eugene a shot.”
“Fine, I might as well get this over with." I mumble, typing out a quick email asking him to meet me for coffee at Wallflowers tomorrow at four. That way, I’m not obligated for much and when it blows up in my face, Denise will give up blackmailing me into going on more dates.
Two
Travis
Walking into the bookstore with big daisies on the logo, I’m already pissed. My agent, Claire, has been hounding me for months to meet her and of all places, she picks this place, which clearly caters to women. I stick out like an elephant in the middle of a china shop. I can feel eyes on me everywhere. She knows I want to keep a low profile. I’m not stupid, I know this is her way of punishing me for running off. I look around and immediately start worrying my balls will shrivel up. This place could obviously drain the testosterone right out of your body. It’s decorated everywhere with bright yellow polka dots, frilly tablecloths and all the desserts at the coffee bar seem to be topped with sprinkles.
