A Year to Remember (4 page)

“Haven’t I been doing that for the last ten years? I’ve been dating since my freshman year of high school, so really, I’ve spent more than half my life already searching for my soul mate. If I haven’t found the one by now, what makes you think this time will be any different?”“

“Take a deep breath, sweetie, and listen to me. Yes, you’ve been dating for roughly fifteen years. How many dates do you think you average a year, not including the times you were in a relationship? Maybe three at most?”

As I thought it over and tried to calculate with my still hungover brain, I deduced Missy probably overestimated the amount of dates per year. I spent the last two years without any dates at all. Sadly, it had been even longer since I had sex. I was practically a born-again virgin.

Even though Missy was my best friend in the world, I couldn’t reveal the truth of my pathetic love life. I couldn’t admit I lied to her many times throughout the years, telling her I went on a date, when I actually stayed home watching reruns of
Buffy the Vampire Slayer
and eating an entire package of Girl Scout Samoa cookies before passing out high from a sugar binge. Some things were just too private and painful to share with even my best friend.

Women literally threw themselves at Missy’s feet. I’m not kidding. I’ve seen it happen.

After seeing
Les Miserable
at the theatre, we visited a gay bar in the city. I figured I owed her, since she always came with me to the hetero bars. Plus, I have to admit, I was curious about what it would be like. Since women look deeper than physical appearance, I thought I had a shot at being hit on. I visualized having to politely reject some beautiful lesbian.

Not only did I not get hit on, three women bribed the DJ to play “You’ve Lost That Loving Feeling,” in order to serenade Missy just like the scene from
Top Gun
where Tom Cruise and his buddies sang to Kelly McGillis. She ended up dating one of them for a few weeks after, but then broke it off because the woman sang too much. I mean, what did she expect?

“Yes, three dates a year sounds about right,” I lied. “So, I haven’t dated a lot of men, but how is that relevant?”

“Here’s how I see it. The more dates you go on, the greater the chance you’ll meet the right guy. For the next year, you’ll put yourself out there. Like you said in your toast last night, technology has changed the way we do things.”

I groaned over the mention of my speech. Something else I shamefully accomplished while intoxicated.

“I am never going to live that down. Goldman will bring it up every time he sees me from now on. It wouldn’t surprise me if he puts it on YouTube for the whole world to see. Then, whenever I meet a guy, he’ll only have to Google me to discover I’m desperate.”

Embarrassing scenarios rushed through my imagination. Missy clapped her hands three times to get my attention.

“Don’t worry about Goldman or anyone else for that matter. It wasn’t as bad as you think. Besides, I seriously doubt anyone will bother to take the time to embarrass you on YouTube.”

“Fine,” I muttered, trying to stay focused on the present. “What are your ideas for getting me out there?”

“What you need is to join JDate. You and I will spend the day developing your profile and when it’s complete, you’ll pick five men to contact.”

“That’s it?”

“No, that’s not it. If any of those five respond, you’ll set up a date to meet them.”

“Shouldn’t we email or talk on the phone for a while before meeting?” I interrupted.

“Absolutely not. You don’t want to waste time and that’s exactly what you’ll do if you don’t meet someone right away. First, it will help to eliminate those guys who are married, lying about their appearance, or too intimidated to go on a real date. Second, you may get to know someone on the phone and then you meet and there’s no chemistry. Third, the idea is to go out on as many dates as you can. Phone calls and emails do not count as dates.”

My head spun as I processed everything. I needed something to eat.

I ran to the kitchen to bring a box of Lucky Charms cereal back to my room to munch on while Missy instructed me on “Ten Ways to Meet Your Future Husband Thru the Internet.” She typed it for me while she spoke.

“You will contact five men that live in the tri-county area each week. The email will include one thing you liked about their profile.

“You will accept all offers of a date.

“If he doesn’t ask for a date after one week, you will ask him out. If he gives any excuse, i.e. out of town, working, etc., cease all communications with him.

“You will change your photos monthly to accurately portray your current appearance.

“Always portray confidence. Never indulge in self-deprecating behavior.

“Don’t exaggerate or lie about yourself. He’ll discover it eventually.

“If you don’t feel any chemistry on your first date, tell him at the end of the evening. Do not pretend you’re interested in a second date or plan on telling him by email you’re not interested. Treat him as you wish to be treated and be honest.

“Even if you aren’t interested, let him kiss you if he tries. Don’t forget that on
Friends
, Monica wasn’t interested in Pete until he kissed her. Yes, they didn’t end up together, but that’s not the point. If you are interested, try to get him to kiss you.

“Don’t stop dating other people even if you are interested in one. Until you are in a committed relationship, you will continue to contact five men a week per this agreement.

“Don’t have sex on the first date even if you want to!!! Wait at least four dates!”

After she printed her rules out, she made me read it out loud and sign it in acknowledgement.

Someday, I’d get my revenge.

“Now, you take a shower while I rummage through your closet for some decent clothes for your pictures.”

I saluted her and headed off into the bathroom.

Missy mumbled something under her breath. “Jeez, do you own any clothes that aren’t black?”

“Other than my jeans and a couple of T-shirts? Nope, all my clothes are black,” I replied, wondering what was wrong with black. “Black goes with everything. It’s flattering, it’s slimming...”

“It’s boring,” Missy continued. “We need to get you some brighter clothes. You want to look happy, not like you’re going to a funeral.”

“Fine, we’ll go to the mall. I don’t have any clients on Wednesday, if you have a couple of hours free,” I shouted over the sound of the shower.

“Wednesday after work sounds good. I’ll pick you up at 5:30.”

Missy worked as a program director at a retirement home for the very advanced aged. Over ninety years old, most of her residents still managed to care for themselves with minimal assistance. She loved each and every one of her residents, treating them with respect and dignity. In return, over one hundred devoted grandparents treated Missy as part of their family.

I didn’t know how she could stand it forty-plus hours a week. I couldn’t even stand ten minutes in that place. All the old people remind me of death and dying. She said they reminded her about triumph over adversity. She’s such an optimist.

On the other hand, I worked with teenagers. My psychology practice consisted mostly of teenage girls with self-esteem issues. Missy often liked to point out the reason I chose to work with that population is because I need to work on my own issues with self-esteem, as in “Physician, Heal Thyself.” Sadly, she’s probably right, but I believe because I have those issues, it’s easier for me to relate to my clients. Either way, I have enough confidence to acknowledge I’m a terrific therapist.

We spent two hours getting ready, between choosing my outfits and creating my “natural look.” Missy pulled her digital camera out of her bag.

She reminded me of Mary Poppins. Anything we needed could be found in that bag.

Missy took almost fifty pictures of me in three different outfits, some casual and others more posed. Out of those pictures, we chose two headshots and two pictures of my full body for my profile on JDate.

We spent the rest of the day creating my profile. Like an essay exam, I answered open-ended questions. You would think it would be easy, but I honestly drew a blank when I read the questions. All of a sudden, I was back in college with fifteen minutes left of my exam and no way to finish the last two questions before time was up. At least now, I had Missy to assist me with the answers. By the time I finished an entire box of Lucky Charms and our pizza arrived for dinner, I completed my profile.

“Now you just have to find five men to email and you can call it quits for the night.” Missy chomped on her slice of pepperoni pizza.

“How hard could that be?”

As it turns out, it wasn’t as easy as I anticipated. I weeded out all the guys who were interested only in dating thin girls and focused on those who preferred average, athletic, and voluptuous.

I classified myself as average, even though the average woman in America weighs approximately one hundred and forty pounds at five feet four inches tall. The average weight of the women I know is generally about twenty to thirty pounds more than that. Even though I argued I fell into the voluptuous category, Missy countered that anyone with two eyes could see my figure from the pictures and I shouldn’t limit my possibilities.

After I eliminated the men based on their desired body-type, I weeded out any man under twenty-five and over forty. With over three hundred profiles to choose from, I still couldn’t decide who to contact. I found something wrong with every profile.

Tired of my excuses, Missy picked the five for me. I wrote them each the same basic email, detailing something specific about them that attracted me to their profile. She even made me use the word attracted, explaining men would read the word and think about sex, which they would now associate with my profile. Apparently, that’s a good thing, although I have to wonder how she can consider herself to be an expert on men when she’s a lesbian.

At eight o’clock, Missy left me alone with half of a pizza and my computer. I checked my email every half hour until bedtime to check my inbox for communications from JDate. Just about the time I gave up, my cell phone alerted me to an email message.

I snatched the phone from the charger on my nightstand and touched the envelope icon to read my email.

A message titled “Welcome to JDate” had been sent from AMG300. I couldn’t bring up his profile on my phone. Instead, I moved my tired butt to my computer.

As I waited for the website to load, I chewed on my acrylic nails, convinced it was probably a standard message that came from the management of JDate. Logging on, I discovered it came from another JDate participant. I clicked on the link and it took me to the profile of Adam Goldman.

Dear Lord, I didn’t think about people I actually knew discovering I used an online dating site to meet men. Of all people, why Goldman?

Reading over his profile, I noted he selected to date only average and athletic women, excluding voluptuous. Then again, he hadn’t chosen thin either. He said little about himself in the essay portion, revealing only that he practiced law, enjoyed music, and preferred heterosexual, single women between the ages of twenty-five and thirty-five.

I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to reply to his email. After ten minutes, I decided it was good enough to send.

Dear Goldman,

Thanks for welcoming me into the JDate community! After careful deliberation, I have decided to plunge head first into the dating pool. Your email has indicated you have done likewise. In other words, I won’t tell if you won’t.

Your Comrade in Singledom,

Sara

P.S. Just remember, I have plenty of info I could use to blackmail you, too!

It only took him five minutes to respond.

Dear Sara,

Please be careful to check the depth of the water before you plunge head first into the dating pool. As some of us have learned, the water can be shallow.

Your Comrade in Singledom,

Adam