“Maybe he was just nervous,” Julia said.
Eileen was entranced by the way Julia was swirling her mimosa as she talked. She thought for sure it was going to spill out, but the waves of orange foam never quite breached the seawall at the top of the glass. “Hmm? Oh, maybe. I don’t know,” she eventually replied.
“Show me what he said in the chat,” Julia ordered.
Eileen searched her bag for her phone. “Any progress on your thing?” she asked while she searched.
“Ugh. No. I’m still fucked. Let’s not talk about it,” Julia pleaded.
Eileen found her phone, put her finger on the lock and waited for it to come to life. “Wait. I’m not sure I’m comfortable with showing you this. What if I said something gross?”
Julia laughed. “Just give me the fucking phone.”
Eileen handed the phone over. “We’re still mostly talking in the dating app. On the home screen.” She watched as her friend poked and swiped at her phone awhile.
“Hmm. Okay. Jack, right?” Then silence. “Oh! Jesus. He’s yummy.” More silence. “Mmm hmm.” Eileen smiled as she listened to Julia’s peculiar monologue. “Hmm. Okay.” A long silence ensued. “Oh fuck. Wow. Okay, yeah,” she handed the phone back. “My mouth is literally watering. Holy shit. He’s good at texting.”
“Right? I guess maybe my expectations were unreasonably high.”
“So be more specific. Like, what did he say on the date?”
“I’m telling you,” Eileen said, leaning forward. “Not a damn thing. It was like, I’d ask him a question and he’d kind of laugh and then not answer it at all. If I had just met this guy at a bar and we started talking, I’d think he was…” she leaned closer and waited for Julia to lean in as well. “Retarded,” she whispered.
Julia barked a short laugh and quickly pulled her hand to her face. “You did not just say that. You can’t say that!”
“I know. I’m a terrible person. But seriously, that’s what it was like. Like, this guy should be bagging groceries, not… not whatever the hell it was he said he did.”
“Options contracts,” Julia said. “I noticed that in the text.”
“Yeah. What the fuck is an options contract? I meant to Google that. How is that a job?”
“I’m embarrassed to say, I actually do know what that is, and I know how if you are good at it, you could make a hell of a living doing it. But you’d have to be on the computer all the fucking time.”
“He is. I mean, he’s always there when I text him. He lives on his phone and the computer. Oh!” Eileen paused and took a long draw from her mimosa.
“Oh?” Julia asked.
“Maybe I’m not being fair. At one point he told a story, and it was hilarious. But also really weird. And after the date he goes to kiss me. And he puts his hand on the back of my neck, like under my hair. Just slides it in there to hold my head as he’s making me wait for the kiss—”
“I love that!” Julia interjected.
“Right? Me too. But it hurt.”
“Like he was squeezing too hard? Like a good ‘it hurt’?”
“No. Well, yeah, that too. But no, his hands were really rough and calloused.”
“Oh my God! Really? It’s a good thing I’m wearing underwear,” Julia said with a wry smile.
“Yeah. Like, this guy clearly works with his hands. They are rough and strong. But do you see why that’s weird?”
Julia sat back and thought. She sipped her mimosa and then started swirling it in the glass again. Eileen watched her think but then became entranced by the vortex, wondering when that drink was going to end up all over the table. She was feeling her own drink now, which she supposed might have something to do with this newfound fascination with fluid dynamics.
“I got nothing,” Julia declared.
Eileen shook her head. “He sits at a computer all day. He isn’t a lumberjack or a carpenter or whatever. Why does he have callouses on his hands?”
“You’re overthinking this. He’s tall. His jaw is square as a two by four under that stubble. He looks like a fucking movie star. He knows how to kiss, right?”
“Fuck yes.”
Julia smiled. “So he has a weekend hobby that gives him rough hands. Maybe he’s building a retaining wall in his back yard for fun. Maybe he was just nervous on the date. Or maybe it was loud and he was having trouble hearing you. If you mess this up, I’m going to kill you.”
Eileen sat back. “You’re right. No. I’m totally overthinking this. I’m sure you’re right.”
“How long are you in town?” Julia asked.
“A few days. My next trip is pretty short. Hopefully I won’t have another long one like that for a while. It’s why we spent so much time texting.”
“That makes sense. I know you said that you prefer to see guys from those dating apps as soon as possible, so you don’t waste your time.”
“Exactly. I don’t want to spend weeks getting to know someone and then find out he smells like my ex or some other perfectly valid reason for not wanting to date him.”
“One hundred percent valid,” Julia agreed.
“Did I tell you that story?” Eileen asked.
“I think I’d remember that.”
“We’re going to need another drink. This one’s kind of long.”
“I’m jealous,” Julia said. “You’re meeting all these people, and I’m going home to the same boring guy every night. You can sleep with a guy whenever you want, while I’m hearing ‘I’m tired,’ or ‘I have an early day tomorrow.’ I’m dying here! Dying!”
Eileen pursed her lips. “I’m sorry. I know that sucks. But honestly, this sucks too. Dating is horrible.”
Julia drained her glass and waved to the waiter. “So tell me that story. The guy who smelled like—”
“Bruce. He smelled exactly like Bruce.”
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