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“But you said she was a great kid.” I love when my words get thrown back into my face.
“She is, but I feel strongly that when I start mothering it should be with a person who can’t call me out on the stupid stuff I might say or do.”
Anna sits back down on her chair and points at the computer. “I don’t really care who you date as long as you put yourself out there,” she says. “It’s time, Missy.”
I refocus my attention on the computer screen, and before I can think better of it, I publish my profile. “I think I might throw up.”
She waves her hands in the air like she’s wielding invisible pom poms. “From what I remember, feeling sick is the first step to falling in love.”
“What do I do now?” I ask. “Just sit here and wait to see who likes my profile?” How depressing.
“No. You start looking at profiles and see who you like. You’ve gotta take the bull by the horns.” She takes the computer off my lap and starts to search for single men in our area. “Look at this,” she declares. “Tim Ferris from high school is back in town and he’s looking for love.”
Tim Ferris was popular and gorgeous and one hundred percent out of my league so I’m nowhere near as excited as she is. But I am curious. I lean over her shoulder and look at his picture. “He looks like his hairline is receding,” I declare.
“So? Bald men supposedly have more testosterone than guys with a lot of hair.”
I point to the screen. “Is that the start of a beer belly?”
“More of him to love,” she says.
“Anna, there’s no way I’m going to like his profile. He’ll take one look at my picture and won’t even remember we went to school together. It’ll be embarrassing.”
“Why? You’re not the same person you were fourteen years ago, and neither is he. Some of us grow up and get better with age.”
I look at his picture again. Maybe that belly is a trick of the light. He does have an appealingly mischievous look in his eyes. My hand hovers over the heart button for so long Anna finally pushes it. I feel hot and cold and nauseated all at the same time. I feel like I’m getting the flu.
“Now, we wait for him to see your profile.” She points at an icon in the corner of the screen. “He’s online now, so it’s only a matter of time …”
I hurry to click the heart icon to unlike his picture, but it won’t let me. “Why can’t I unlike this?” I demand as anxiety floods my body.
She smiles knowingly. “Because Catch wants you to follow your instincts. They claim it’s why they have a better success rate than other sites.” She points at my message box as an ellipsis appears. “Look, someone’s typing.”
I bend over to put my head between my knees, so I don’t pass out. After several moments, I ask, “Is it Tim? Did he respond?”
“It’s some guy named River.” Click, click, click. “He’s kind of cute.”
That causes me to sit up too quickly which once again messes with my equilibrium. I look at River’s profile and tilt my head to the side while I study it. “He looks like a poet or a salamander breeder.”
“Salamander breeder?” she asks.
“Yeah, you know, like he has some odd hobbies.” I look down at the hobby section of his profile and read out loud, “Enjoys quiet evenings reading Dostoyevsky, playing chess, and weaving macramé plant holders.” I shoot Anna a look of pure panic.
“See? No salamanders,” she says smugly.
“I would take lizards over a boring, chess-playing, macramé-loving hipster.”
“He’s clearly intelligent and whimsical,” she counters.
“His greatest fear is climate change,” I tell her.
“He’s ecologically conscious.”
“He’s allergic to peanuts, and I love peanut butter. One wrongly-timed kiss and I’d kill him.”
Anna stands up again and this time starts to walk toward the front of the store. “It’s no wonder you’re single, Missy. You have no sense of adventure.”
“You’re leaving me?” I cannot do this on my own.
