Chapter 2
Harper
I stare at my phone, seeing his last message. His profile tells me he wants kids, likes to travel, and apparently can’t cook. My head shakes, thinking of him burning something on the stove after his comment, learning to cook without a microwave. At least he’s honest. That’s hard to find from anyone. His hair reminds me of the CEO-type, but the muscles seen through his uniform make me hot.
About a month ago, Tessa talked me into downloading this app and trying it. I just want to find someone to share my life with, you know, an honest person who wants an actual partner.
When I first see Liam’s profile and click on the pictures to scroll through, the uniform gives me bad vibes. He probably doesn’t even have to work for it. Ladies are lining up outside his door right now just to have a shot with him, and he probably has a wall of trophy underwear on his wall. He is definitely pretty-boy-esque, and usually I steer clear of them, but after reading his profile, he makes me laugh. Ugh, maybe I shouldn’t have looked or messaged him, but I can’t take it back now. Please Hod don’t let him be a douche. I can’t take any more of those.
The pretty boy type are always the ones that think about themselves first and us later. They never want to engage in foreplay and it’s always about their pleasure. I stay away from those guys. Of course, I have a list, but doesn’t every woman who is looking for their Mr. Right. Of course, he needs to be attractive, but in a plain sort of way. I’m not looking for someone with a six-pack, perfect teeth, and looks that make me want to grab their shirt and rush to the bedroom, but someone who can make me laugh long after his looks depreciate. If there’s one thing I know, when I’m old and saggy, the man sitting next to me is going to be the same, and things that once made him seem perfect like being great in bed and being easy on the eyes, aren’t going to matter. It’s what he stands for, how he treats me, and that’s it.
Agreeing to the date, I fear the worst. My luck with dating apps has turned out to be a monumental mistake, so much so, I promise tomorrow will be my last one. I can’t handle sitting through an hour of horrible conversation with guys who do nothing but stare at my breasts and talk about themselves. It’s a waste of time, and I’m not getting any younger.
I’ve been on five dates since joining, and they have all been terrible. Although Jamie had to be the worst. His profile showed him in Abercrombie & Fitch clothes, which I didn’t even realize was still a brand. So, I guess he would be preppy, but I was wrong. When I showed up at the bar to have a drink with him, the man that sat down across from me was anything but what the profile depicted. He had a long beard with matching hair, biker clothes on, and tattoos everywhere. Now this might be some women’s type, just not mine. I like my man to be clean shaven or maybe a bit of a five o’clock shadow and never been one to like tattoos.
So, one thing I really should have put on my profile is that I hate body hair. It’s called trichophobia. I don’t like excessive hair on the face, like Jamie. Hell, sometimes, I can’t even look people in the eye because their nose hairs or their ears have hair pointing out. Gross. And don’t even get me started on loose hairs all over shirts and clothing. Don’t people lint roll their clothes before leaving the house, or is that just me?
When I asked him why his profile was so different, he said the pictures were from ten years ago, and he saw nothing wrong with it. I’m not one to judge someone purely on their looks, but so much differs from the profile that I was hesitant to even continue the date, but did anyway to give him the benefit of the doubt. He could be a really sweet guy and surprise me.
We ordered some wings and beers while he asked me some basic questions that were answered on my profile. Clearly, he didn’t actually read it, just sent me a message based on my picture. So, he can judge me based on my looks, but it’s wrong for me to? Kind of a double standard, right?
After about an hour, he mostly talked about himself, telling me about his job, and things he wanted to do in life. It’s great to have aspirations, but he barely let me talk, and when I tried, he would cut me off and finish his sentence. Rude!
I finally decide I’m done and let him know I’m ready to head out and that’s when he asked if I wanted to go back to his place. My firm answer was no, and so he slides me the check and says, “Why don’t we split it then.”
“So because I don’t agree to go home with you, you want me to pay for my half?” Fine. So I did, and let him know I was not interested in seeing him again before hustling out to my car to get the hell out of there.
Some men just really appall me. The way they think that just because we don’t sleep with them, we should have to pay for our own dinner? Now, do I think it’s always the man’s responsibility to pay for the ticket? No, but he made it clear the only reason I was paying was because I said no to his offer. Jamie was a perv, and I never wanted to see him again or that ridiculous beard.
When Tessa asked about the date, she laughed hysterically for like ten minutes. I don’t know why it’s so funny. We’ve been texting each other every day, and when I found out she got engaged, she asked me to be her maid of honor. Of course, I said yes, because she’s a wonderful woman, and has my back. That’s what friends do.
I commend her for all she does. Being a single mom for almost six years takes a lot out of someone, and she is still caring and willing to help others. I haven’t met her fiancée yet, but the way she talks about him makes my heart melt. They seem so perfect for each other, and found each other when they both weren’t looking.
I pick up my phone and shoot her a text.
Me: So, have a date tomorrow night. So I'll text you 911 if I need you to call and give me an excuse to leave. You know the drill.
I haven’t used her for that yet, but the day is bound to come eventually. Hopefully Liam turns out to be a good guy, and his profile rings true.
Kids have always been a big part of my future, and to do that, a husband is required. Although, I guess I could go to a sperm bank, but I want my child to have a loving mother and father, just like I did.
Thinking about that makes me tear up, reminding myself that I’ll never get to see my parents again. Yet, I don’t let myself get caught up in it, and start surfing more of Liam’s profile.
He doesn’t smoke, thank God. The lingering smell on smokers is overwhelming and I briefly dated one, and it just didn’t work out. He drinks. Well, good because I sure do enjoy my wine at night. Nothing wrong with that.
Although when school gets back in session, I take over as the Chemistry teacher and it’s a little overwhelming. Most of the break has consisted of me coming up with my lesson plans. After I graduated with my degree and moved to Grapevine, the receptionist position put me in the position to take over once their current teacher was set to retire. So, all I had to do was bide my time for a little while. It’s what I enjoyed doing, helping students learn a subject, and especially if they think they won’t do well and end up acing my class. That’s my goal in my first year, is to help students find a love for Chemistry, and have an A at the end.
I’ve always been an ambitious person at everything in my life, and that’s what my parents were most proud of. They knew I would work hard to achieve my dreams no matter what was put in front of me. They believed in me, and I wish they were still alive to see how well I’m doing.
My phone vibrates.
Tessa: Good luck. Hope it goes well. Have you picked an outfit yet?
She has a good point. What the hell am I going to wear? I’m not exactly a big shopper, and most of my clothing has been with me for years. I dig through my closet to the back where all my nicer dresses are.
Me: It is New Year’s eve. So should I dress up a little more? What do you think?
I snap a photo of a maroon dress.
Tessa: No, something more... glittery.
Okay, something that has that New Year’s vibe. I get all the way to the back and my eyes set on a silver strapless dress, not too short but just long enough and snap another picture.
Tessa: Perfect! That’s the one with your black pumps. He won’t know what hit him.
I glance at the clock, holy crap it’s one in the morning. The silver dress is hung back up at the front of my closet, and then I jump in bed, smothering myself with the covers. School is back in session in just a few days, and I need to show the principal that I’m ready with a kick as learning plan and that means being prepared on day one. Like a boss.