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I grit my teeth at her patronizing tone.
“You should go out and meet someone.”
Ping!I hear a chirp from Kylie’s iPad. If it’s that guy again, I wonder why he doesn’t just text her. Unless she didn’t give him her cell phone number for some reason. Unease settles over me at the thought that she could be getting catfished like that show on MTV. What if this guy is a creeper? I’m tempted to snoop and check him out, but I don’t want to violate my daughter’s privacy.
“How’s Dad?” I ask, changing the subject.
“Good. He’s down at the firehouse.”
Technically retired for over a month, my dad agreed to stay on as interim chief until they hired someone, but I think he secretly loves to go down there to make his famous chili and visit with the guys he considers the sons he never had. He tends to lose track of time when he’s with them.
“You want to come hang out here? I made a delicious Bolognese.”
“I’m sure it was fantastic, but we’re meeting the Jacksons for drinks later. You should come.”
I scoff. “No, thanks.”
“Come on,” she pleads. “One drink. We’ll even pick you up. Billy’s-”
I interrupt. “Mom, if you say another word about Billy Jackson, I’m never speaking to you again.”
“OK! I’ll call you tomorrow. Night!”
Ping!Kylie’s got a new message. This guy sure is persistent. If I’m being totally honest, I’m a little jealous of the attention. It’s been a very long time since a man has taken that much interest in me. Screw it! Maybe everyone around me is right and I should give online dating a chance. God knows there are slim pickings in this town.
With the click of a button, Matt Bomer’s face freezes as I look around for my laptop. Realizing I left it at the salon, I walk into Kylie’s room to borrow her iPad. The screen is littered with notifications of new messages. I slide my finger and a keypad appears, asking me for a passcode.
A passcode?Why would she lock her iPad? She’s never done that before.
Annoyed that she might be hiding something, I type in several options. Her birthday. The last four digits of her cell phone number. The year she graduated from high school. The day she got Diogi.
Nothing.
I stop trying before I disable the device.
Using my cell, I plop down on the couch and GoogleLust or Love. I shake my head, wondering who came up with the name. It’s stupid, but then again, I guess some users are looking to hook up while others might be looking for a long-term relationship.
I stare at the screen for several minutes, feeling embarrassed and utterly ridiculous that I’m even considering creating a profile. I need a beer for this, so I walk to the fridge and grab a cold bottle of Stella Artois.
With the strange habit of narrating my actions, I type in the information and speak aloud. Diogi raises his head as though I’m speaking to him.
I complete all the required fields and verify my account by clicking the link that was emailed to me. I reread what I’ve typed and laugh. I sound way more interesting than I am. I scroll through my photos, looking for a decent picture. I find a nice one, but my hair is long unlike my current cut. Do I really want to do this? Maybe I should just delete the account.
I snap a selfie of Diogi in my arms then crop it so only his face and part of my face are visible. One of the most important things any man needs to know about me is that I love my dog.
Click!And just like that, I put myself out there in the cyber universe. I play around with the app’s features, learning that emojis, GIFs, voice recordings, and cash can all be sent with the tap of the screen. I can only imagine what things one might do for an exchange of money. Shivering at the possibilities, I toss my phone aside and resume my night with my favorite con artist.
At half past one, I’m awakened by the sound of the front door opening and footsteps on the short flight of stairs. I look up to see Kylie stumbling in with her best friend, Abby, on her heels. Sitting up quickly, my phone drops to the hardwood and startles Diogi who barks like a guard dog.
“Shhh,” she slurs, quieting the dog.
“Why are you on the couch?”
I stand, stretch and yawn. “I fell asleep watching TV.” I glance at Abby. “You girls have fun tonight?”
They share a look and giggle.
I smile tightly as a fleeting moment of regret flits across my mind. Because I was a young mother, trying to prove that I could raise my child on my own, I’d never gotten to experience college parties and the bar scene with my friends. Kylie was and will always be my priority. But just once, I’d like to do something for myself.
