CHAPTER SIXTEEN
I ’m digging through my jewelry box, looking for my small gold hoops. My feet are all warm and cozy in my short ankle boots. They match the dark blue mom jeans I’m wearing with a cropped green sweater. I put on a pair of long, dangly boho earrings and gaze into the full-length mirror.
Nerves run through me. I think I let Briar and Lucy get into my head. What are the chances I will actually get murdered on this date? I would think it’s slim. I check that I have my travel-size hairspray in my bag. It’s not pepper spray, but that shit burns the eyes. It’s something. Something is better than nothing.
How am I going to let him even offer me a drink? How will I know if he’s slipped something into it? Oh. My. God. My mind is running like a hamster on its wheel. I’ll only drink water, I decide. I blame Lucy and mentally curse her. Obviously, she is just looking out for me, but she knows I have anxiety. I’m an overthinker, and not in a good, productive way.
Okay, now I am going back and forth. Do I cancel the date?
I’m spiraling.
Fuck it.
I’ll chance it. I am not going to get kidnapped or murdered today.
I’m a ball of nerves when I look at the time and realize it’s almost time to go.
Why is dating so hard? Why do you have to assume everyone is a liar, a thief, a murderer, or even sixteen years old? Okay, if I had to choose to be catfished, I am one hundred percent glad it was by a sixteen-year-old and not some random creepy old man. I shudder at the thought.
Okay, Sof, you’re not helping the nerves with these thoughts.
I turn back to the mirror.
I am open to new experiences; I am open to love, and I will enjoy myself tonight.
Satisfied with my affirmations, I head to the couch and sit beside Bob. He immediately stands and sits on my lap. Leaning my back against the couch, I sigh, petting him lightly. He purrs, and I focus on the sound and the vibrations. I inhale, and I exhale. I suddenly feel maybe two percent calmer. Okay, that’s as good as it is going to get.
Lucy is no nonsense when it comes to dating. Her intuition guides her constantly. I don’t think I have one of those. An intuition. I think I may be gullible or na?ve. So I’m told.
“Okay, it’s time, Bob.” I pet him one last time and gently try to shoo him off of my lap.
He doesn’t budge, and he just looks up at me.
“Bob, I gotta go,” I say, a little annoyed this time.
Nothing.
I go to stand, and he slides off my legs and scatters as soon as he hits the ground.
“Sorry, dude.” He’s in the hallway now, glaring at me.
“See you later. If I don’t get murdered.” That last part comes out in a whisper.
Turns out Ty lives less than ten minutes away from me. If things go well, that’s definitely a bonus. Traffic here sucks to get across town.
I pull up to a brown brick home. Large trees surround the house. It’s a friendly-looking bungalow. I see a blue SUV in the driveway. Oh, thank god, he doesn’t have a trunk to stash me in.
Before I get out of my car, I text Briar and Lucy that I’m here. I take a picture of his SUV with plates, just in case, and send it to them. The thoughts in my head are getting out of control.
I want to turn around the minute I step out of the car. But I don’t. This is all part of the experience. I wonder why I have to feel moderately terrified to meet a new guy—to date. I doubt my parents had to worry about this when they were younger.
I hear my phone chirp and look down. Lucy responds with a thumbs up.
The spring gardening has already been done. The flower beds are ready for planting, and fresh ground lays still. I’m walking pretty slowly, taking in my surroundings. I make my way to the side door, and I ring the doorbell.
Nothing.
I wait.
How long should one wait before they ring again?
Is this a sign?
Do I run?
I wait another minute. I ring again.
I hear a loud but muffled “Come in” from inside the house.
Oh, he’s cooking and probably has his hands all dirty or something with chicken.
I open the door slowly, peering in before I commit to stepping inside.
“Hey Sofia, come in.” I hear it louder this time. I close the door behind me. “Sorry, my hands are full,” Ty calls out.
Called it. Chicken. I knew it.
I start up the steps and make my way to the landing.
I halt. I can see Ty standing behind an island, hands in oven mitts. He’s setting down a casserole dish of food, steaming.
My eyes dart to the apron he is wearing. It’s bright red and says ‘Kiss the cook’. Okay, cute. Must have been a Christmas present or something. But that’s not what’s got my attention.
He’s shirtless.
Ty is cooking shirtless.
“Come in, come in,” he says, smiling brightly. “It’s so great to meet you. Sorry I couldn’t come let you in - just a second.”
He’s taking off his mitts. I’m waiting, hanging back a bit, wondering what my intuition will tell me. You know, if I have one. But I do notice one thing, and it’s not my intuition speaking.
This man is HOT. He is so much cuter than his pictures. And that chest. I’m now staring at his broad shoulders. I have yet to mutter any words of greeting. Nothing. I’m standing here like a deer caught in headlights.
“Hi,” I utter and take a step closer. Ty is making his way around the island, and I stop short.
Ty isn’t shirtless.
I was wrong.
Ty is NAKED! As in N-A-K-E-D. All except his bright red apron, which hits his upper thighs, barely covering his man parts. His legs are dark and muscular.
No.
Stop it, Sofia. This is not okay.
“Um…” I start.
He’s walking right up to me as if this is nothing. As if he doesn’t realize he is naked.
Does he know he is? Did he get so preoccupied with cooking that he forgot to get dressed?
He’s almost reached me when my hand goes up without thinking in a kind of talk-to-the-hand type of way.
The words are coming out of my mouth before I can stop them.
“Oh, HELL NO,” I say.
He frowns but stops dead in his tracks.
“Not doing this,” I mutter. I turn on my heels, and I am out the door in ten seconds.
I don’t look back until I’m in my car and lock the doors.
This has got to be a record. Two dates that lasted less than five minutes.
I back out of his driveway and thank my lucky stars that he didn’t decide to follow me out the door and make a scene. I don’t know what I’d have done.
As soon as I’m home, I open the group text.
Me: Guys, I’m home.
Lucy responds right away.
Lucy: What’d he do? I’ve got my bat ready.
Me: He didn’t do anything. But he was naked!
Lucy: So why aren’t you in bed with him right now?
Me: Are you kidding me?
Lucy: Well, I mean, he probably wasn’t going to murder you if he was naked.
Me: Ugh, I let you get me all caught up in my head, and I was so paranoid, and he was naked. No, not okay. This isn’t how I want to date. I want to date-date. Not just eat and hook up. It’s too soon to laugh about this, but I’m sure one day I’ll be wondering why I turned down a free meal and a hot, naked guy.
Briar: Glad you’re safe, Sof. Good idea. Glad you got out of there. Who knows what could have happened?
Lucy: You girls don’t know how to have fun. JK.
Briar: Come on, Luce. Lay off.
Lucy: I’m just kidding. Glad you’re home safe too. Don’t give up hope. Lots of fish out there.
Me: Thanks guys.
We chat a little longer. I give them all the deets from the time I arrived to the time I left, including the ‘kiss the cook’ apron and the toned legs.
I’m back on my couch, peppermint tea in hand, and a menu for Chinese food. I still have to eat.
While I wait for my dinner to arrive, I decide I may as well start my article.
So, I decided to date online…
by: Sofia Daria
So, I decided to date online… and he was naked.
You might be wondering, WHAT?
Yup, I showed up for our date, and my date had nothing on except a ‘kiss the cook’ apron.
Again, I haven’t been spending a lot of time chatting up people before meeting them. Maybe this is a bad thing? Or is it a good thing because I’m not wasting my precious time on dudes who are underage, are rude, or, um, only want a hook-up?
I think I’ll keep it as is. I might as well find out the cold, hard truth as soon as possible.
So, let’s go to the beginning…
I wrap up the story with a positive spin on how I’m ready to keep going, to keep swiping. But right now, I’m too exhausted to even think.