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“I like an independent woman,” he said, cutting me off. “A woman who can pay her own bills, handle things in her own way. That’s very impressive.”
“Thank you …” I wasn’t sure whether to pick up where I left off or not.
A waitress set two cups of hot chocolate between us, and after we both took sips, Mr. Perfect motioned for me to continue.
“Well, like I was saying, it’s called Sifted Perfection and I’ve been running it for a couple of years.”
“That’s very impressive, Christina. Do you live alone?”
“What?”
“Do you have your own house?” he said, giving me his perfect smile that looked a lot creepier all of a sudden.
“Um, yes. What does that have to do with anything?”
“I suddenly feel a real connection between us right now.” He reached over the table and clasped my hand. “A beautiful, once in a lifetime connection.”
I blinked.
“I think you’re pretty as hell, you have great conversation, and if you’re making enough to live in Cedar Falls on your own and run a business, I think you’re the one for me.”
“I’ve said less than ten sentences since I met you, four minutes ago.”
“That’s the whole point.” He smiled wide, caressing my knuckles. “With some people, it only takes a few seconds to know if you’re a match. We’re a match …”
“Um …”
“I think I need to move in with you as soon as possible,” he said. “I’m not a fan of the in-between dating thing. I’m all in, right now. You also look pretty fertile, so I think we should discuss the number of babies we want to have together.”
What the fuck? “I barely know you.”
“But you will soon.” He leaned closer, lowering his voice. “I have all of my things in the car outside, and if you feel what I feel, let me stay with you.” He paused. “There are only two more rounds of dates left, and I don’t think you’ll like the guys that are left.”
I looked over my shoulder, at the only guys I hadn’t spoken to yet. One was a salt and pepper haired man who’d been rude as hell to the wait staff all night. The other was a magician.
“I’m not looking for anything serious right now.” I pulled my hand away from him. “I’m just here looking to make new friends.”
“That’s not what your button says.” He pointed to the red, tell-tale “Speed date” button on my coat. Red meant “looking for love,” blue meant “just testing the waters,” and yellow meant “only looking for new friends.”
I looked at the sleeve of his jacket and noticed he’d pinned ten red ones.
“See?” he said. “I know you better than you know yourself already.” He looked out the window. “I’m afraid I’ll need an immediate answer as to whether you feel the way that I do or not. If you don’t, I’ll need to hide my car before the loan company repossesses it again.”
“Again?”
“Yeah.” He groaned. “Can you believe my ex-girlfriend stopped paying my bills once we broke up? Selfish bitch.”
Beep! Beep! Beep!
I WALKED OUT OF THE lodge empty handed and annoyed at the end of the night, upset that I’d wasted another two hundred dollars and another two hours of my time. The only productive thing that came out of tonight was my purchase of extended life batteries for my vibrator.
Ever since I moved back home to Cedar Falls, I’d realized just how different the dating scene was from Seattle. The town was always made up of half-tourists, half-residents, but the visiting men worth meeting were hardly ever single. And the ones that were? They were only interested in having sex with as many women as possible before returning to their hometowns.
Online dating was out of the question ever since meeting a man who told me he had a “pretend” murder fetish, and right before the guy who told me that he wanted to “suck the dirt from [my] toes.”
With my thirtieth birthday looming nearer, I was tempted to throw in the towel on finding anyone anytime soon.
This can’t be real life …
Stepping onto the next trolley, I took a seat near the back and sent my younger sister a text.
Me: Soooo, Speed Dating Session #100 is over …
Her response was immediate.
Amy: Wutttt? Did you find someone fuckable? (Anyone who finally knows how to use his mouth in the only place it counts? **wink wink**)
Me: UGH! Why is everything always about SEX with you?
Amy: Yes or no? **smiley face** (Scott Johnson went down on me twice today by the way. TWICE! For over an hour each time. #dontbejealous)
Me: NO. (He’s unemployed and still lives in his parents’ basement. #imneverjealous )
Her name crossed my screen via phone call, and I turned down the volume before answering.
“I’m on the trolley, Amy,” I said. “Please don’t say anything crazy right now.”
