CHAPTER 5 Amelia
Amelia
“I’m so on board with your dating plan!”
I sigh loudly and take a big gulp from my wine glass. It’s been three days since the decision was made to help fix my love life—with a game no less—and I’d been hoping that maybe, if I wished hard enough on every star and all my fallen eyelashes, perhaps it would all go away.
No such luck.
“Amy,” I begin, hoping to appeal to the one rational person in our group of book clubbers (that’s what she calls us! So maybe not as rational as I need her to be?). “I still think this is a terrible idea.”
She ignores me—fun!—and turns to the group, comprising Lilly, Bella and our other two book-loving (and wine-loving) friends, Madi and Sammi. We meet every few weeks at Amy’s place under the guise of discussing whichever book Amy has chosen for us, when in reality it’s just a great excuse to get together and catch up. Or bully a friend into doing something she really doesn’t want to do, as the case may be tonight.
“I’ve put together a folder of potential suitors, all cross-referenced with their careers. See, I’ve even added different coloured tabs to help us keep track.” Amy’s cheeks are glowing with excitement. Whether it’s about the dating plan or the elaborate use of her stationary, it’s hard to tell.
“Amazing work, Amy.” Bella takes the folder from her sister-in-law and starts flipping through it. “We can make a group decision on which lucky guy will get to date Amelia first.”
“Explain the plan to me again,” Sammi asks, biting into a Love, Lilly cookie, her face promptly contorting in ecstasy. “Lilly, these are SO good.”
“I know,” Lilly says, taking a cookie for herself and nibbling on the edge. “So, the basic premise is based on the notion that Amelia has been dating all the wrong men. Agreed?”
They all nod in unison, making me feel fan-freaking-tastic.
“When we dived into the past few disasters, we found a pattern. Not only are all her past boyfriends dead-set losers, but they also don’t have proper jobs.”
“None of them?” Madi, our resident career-woman, asks, her eyes wide in dismay.
“Not a single one of them,” Bella confirms. “And we’re not saying a man needs a job to be a good partner…”
Amy and Lilly both nod their heads in solidarity. We wouldn’t want to appear snobbish in any way.
“But that’s what they all have in common. So, Amelia decided she needs to break the pattern.”
“Amelia decided no such thing,” I interject. And am promptly ignored.
“To help with this, we’ve devised a fun way to get her out into the dating world.” Bella picks up the folder, raining glitter down on the carpeted floor in the process (Glitter? Really?). “And that’s where this comes in!”
The five of them gather around Amy’s bedazzled handiwork, a hush coming over the group.
“The ABCs of Dating Amelia,” Sammi reads out loud, a smile in her voice. “I love, love, love it!”
I snatch the book from my best friend and in horror see that the folder is, in fact, labelled The ABCs of Dating Amelia. In purple-coloured glitter pen.
“Is this really necessary?”
My friends all gape at me like I’m being a party-pooper. Which, to be fair, I totally am.
“It’s a way of keeping track,” Amy announces, taking the folder back from me and cradling it protectively against her chest. Like she’s worried I’m going to do something to her precious creation. “And it’s fun!”
“Here. Have another drink,” Lilly says, filling up my now-empty wine glass and then pushing me into the nearest seat. “This is going to happen, so you may as well get on board.”
I take a sip, a small one this time to remain sober and somewhat in control, and motion for them to continue. The sooner we get on with this, the sooner we can move away from focusing on my love life.
“Right,” Bella calls the ‘meeting’ to order. “Let’s begin.”
The girls snicker at the absurdity of this moment, only stopping when they see Bella glaring at them.
“I get that this is a bit of fun,” she lectures them, squinting, making her look alarmingly like a school teacher. A mean one who gives out detentions freely. “But we are also trying to ensure that our friend Amelia doesn’t die alone.”
OUCH.
“Geeze, Bella. Dramatic, much?” Sammi comes to my rescue, sending me a sympathetic smile. She and Madi are also single and perhaps sense that this sort of treatment is heading their way. Possibly sometime very soon.
“Sorry, Millie,” Bella reaches over and squeezes my hand. An apology. “But I just want you to be happy.”
My smile is weak. “I am happy.”
I’m fooling no one.
“OK, happier?” This is from Amy, who despite her passion for her newly decorated ‘love manual’, can understand that being with a partner doesn’t equal being happy. Before she and her yummy husband Lucas got married, they went through a lot of turmoil, leaving Amy as the most realistic in this group in matters of the heart. She knows that a happily ever after isn’t always guaranteed.
“Sure,” I agree to keep the peace. “Happier.”
“Right.” Bella claps twice to get our attention. “Let’s start at the beginning.” She opens the folder and flips to the first tab. Careers that start with the letter A.
“This is so ridiculous,” I mutter under my breath.
“But it could be fun,” Sammi whispers back as the others debate over the names on the list.
“I vote for accountant,” Lilly says, raising her voice for no reason. It’s not like anyone is challenging her. “Oliver has a guy at work who would be perfect.”
They all look at me expectantly. An accountant? Boring!
“Numbers? Really?”
“Yes, we’re deviating from your normal type, remember?” This is Bella, who is shooting daggers at me from across the room for turning down the first suggestion. Uh oh, I definitely don’t want her angry at me.
“Um, OK. Tell me more.”
Lilly’s pretty face lights up and she picks up her phone.
“His name is Tom, and he’s twenty-eight years old,” she reads off her screen. “He runs the accounts department where Oliver works. He’s never been married. Apparently, he likes to cook and is training to run the Melbourne marathon next month.”
“He sounds great!” Amy enthuses while the rest of the ladies all nod along happily.
“How do you know all of this?” I ask, dread taking up residence in my stomach.
She shows me her phone, where Oliver had typed a message for her with all the relevant details. It’s like his friend is applying for a job; all his credentials are laid out for me to decide upon.
“Did you tell Oliver about this ABC plan?” I ask, placing my wineglass on the table in front of me and then picking up a couch cushion to scream into. This is mortifying.
“I just asked him if he knows anyone who would be worthy of you,” Lilly soothes while Bella takes the cushion off my face, preventing my self-suffocating attempt. “And he came up with loads of guys who he thinks would die for a shot to date you.”
This makes me feel a little better.
“OK, so the accountant. What do we all think?” Bella puts it to the group for a vote, cutting me out of the decision-making process.
“Who’s behind door number two?” Sammi asks, now firmly on board with the plan.
Bella reads the profiles of a few more candidates. Who knew so many men in our orbit have a job beginning with the letter A?
“So that’s a no for Ted in advertising?”
The group all nod.
“And we’re vetoing the architect?”
“He’s too old,” Amy shouts, the wine making her more boisterous than usual.
“And the ‘automotive engineer’ is getting bumped because of a technicality?”
“He’s a mechanic trying to jazz up his job description,” Madi points out, being all logical and acting like the rules in this plan are more than what we just made up on the spot. “We can revisit him when we get to the letter M.”
My whole body shudders at the thought as I sing the ABC song in my head, counting on my fingers as I go. If I have to revisit Lachlan the mechanic, that means I’ll have gone through thirteen other letters before him. Thirteen dud dates to get me to the letter M.
No. Thank. You.
“Let’s park that one for now,” Lilly says, reading the panic on my face and attempting to course-correct. “I think we have a winner in our midst.”
My five friends look at each other with matching grins.
“Congratulations, Amelia. You’ve got yourself a date with an accountant.”
Brilliant.
*****
When I get home later that night, I’m consumed with a sense of relief. I had only just survived Book Club. After my friends had decided that my perfect match may just be Tom the accountant, Lilly had promptly texted Oliver to let him know to set something up and now I have a date with a stranger next Saturday night.
“How did I let this happen?” I ask Callie, the cactus.
When she gives me nothing in response, I do what I always do in times of stress. A beauty treatment. In my bathroom, I take my time deciding on what will best soothe my frayed nerves, settling on a hair mask that promises to add both shine and volume to my hair, in only one hour.
With Taylor Swift blasting in the background—I’m in my Reputation era—I carefully apply the lotion to my hair, starting at the roots and working my way down. Once I’ve applied a thick layer, I place the pink cap that came in the box on top of my head and sit down to let it work its magic. Given I’m someone who changes their hair colour on a dime, it’s important to make sure I give my hair some love.
“Now what?”
It’s only 9 p.m. and I don’t have work in the morning. This treatment needs to stay on for another fifty-five minutes, so…I should probably call my mum.
Calling my mum is a weekly chore I’m eternally finding reasons to put off doing. Each week I find creative ways not to call her until I’ve run out of hours. If I don’t call her tonight, she’ll make her displeasure known. In her own creative, passive-aggressive ways.
“Mum first, then Gilmore Girls as my reward.”
I press on her contact on my phone, holding my breath while it rings. Once, twice, three times. Maybe she won’t—
“Amelia.”
Groan. Internally, so as not to set her off.
“Hi Mum.”
“I was wondering when you were going to find the time to call me.”
And we’re off. The guilt trips. The backhanded insults. The making me not want to call again.
“It’s been a busy week,” I get in as she draws breath. “With work and…stuff.” I don’t tell her about Bella’s wedding; she won’t want to hear it. Like I’d told Jake, my mum was once burnt, forever shy. She doesn’t want anything to do with relationships.
“You’re not seeing someone, are you?” She sounds suspicious and annoyed. So, normal, then.
“Not right now.” It’s the truth. I’m seeing Tom…later.
“Well, just remember what I’ve always told you. Find a man who is…”
“Not married to his job,” I finish her sentence, having heard it a million times before. She’s nothing if not consistent with her bitterness.
“And don’t expect whoever it is, not to cheat.”
My stomach drops at this. How is she so OK telling her daughter this? To expect a man to treat her badly just because that is all either of us has ever known? Shouldn’t she want more for me? Shouldn’t I want more for myself?
The dating plan is becoming more and more attractive the longer I stay on this phone call. Maybe I do need a way to break the toxic cycle I’ve been in…forever.
“Well, anyway, Mum. It’s been nice talking to you,” I lie. “But I think I’m heading off to bed.” More lies. I have a date with Rory and Lorelai that I’m dying to get to. A mother/daughter dynamic so different from my own, it’s like an aspirational dream.
“Come and visit me soon,” she demands. “You know the holiday season is hard for me.”
Another silent groan. Every year when December rolls around, Mum gets more depressed. Then her sadness turns to anger and we both get bogged down by it. Fun times ahead.
“I will,” I promise, knowing she only has me to rely on. A heavy burden. “I’ll see you soon.”
“Love you,” she says as an afterthought. I grab onto it, holding it close so that I won’t dread the next time I have to call her.
“I love you too, Mum.”
We hang up and I sigh. A painful sigh that tries to purge all the negative feelings that rush to the surface when I’m speaking with her. My duty done, now I get to indulge.
Gilmore Girlsit is.
Patting my haircap—still another forty-five minutes left on my treatment—I grab a box of Tiny Teddies from the pantry and make my way to the living room. Once there, I flop down onto the couch and settle into a comfortable position, stretching out length-wise with my feet elevated over the arm of the couch and carefully drape myself with two plush blankets, using the couch cushions to create a cushion fort around me.
“There,” I say into the silence as I turn on Netflix and skip to the season where I’d left off. Oh goody, season five. The one where Luke and Lorelai finally get together.
“Oh Luke, you’re such a big softie,” I tell the TV through a mouthful of chocolate chip teddies. “How Lorelai waited so long to let you in is beyond me.”
With my heart in my eyes, I watch my two favourite characters on their first date.
“Do you remember the first time we met?” Luke asks a luminous-looking Lorelai and then goes on to describe in great detail what he remembers from their first encounter. He loved her from the start.
“Have I ever had that feeling?” I wonder into the empty living room. “Meeting someone and everything being just, right?”
My mind, against both my will and my better judgment, takes me away from Stars Hollow and transports me back to the only time I’ve ever felt anything close to that feeling. Of being in the right place, at the right time…with the right person.
*****
It was just over twelve months ago, and the night had started like any other night. Having just watched my best friend Bella fall deeply in love with her roommate Daniel, I’d decided it was time to dip my toe back into the dating pool again. Still a little bitter after the last heartbreak, I’d carefully scoured the online dating apps, looking for one that would bring the right sort of people—men—into my life. Given the many times I’d been swayed by a pretty face in the past, I’d settled on a dating app modelled after one of my favourite reality TV shows, Love is Blind, where candidates aren’t allowed to upload pictures and instead the technology in the app chooses potential perfect matches based on shared values and personality traits.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” Bella had asked me over the phone, the night of my first blind/blind date. “This feels super risky.”
I’d just pulled up in front of the restaurant where I was meeting my potential soulmate. It was too late to back out. Besides, the guy I’d chosen to go out with seemed super cool. And he was a musician. I had a good feeling about the whole thing.
“I need to give this a try,” I’d told her, chewing on my bottom lip, my nerves threatening to overwhelm me.
“OK but send me an SOS message if you need saving. I’m on standby.”
This had made me feel better, so after I hung up with Bella, with many assurances that I’d be safe, I made my way inside. And stopped dead in my tracks. How am I supposed to find this guy when the entire experience was blind?
“Can I help you?” I looked up to see the hostess staring at me expectantly.
“Um, I’m meeting someone?”
She gave me a knowing smile. “You’re using the LIB app?”
“Yes!” I was so relieved that I wouldn’t need to explain just how blind my blind date was.
“I suggest you wait at the bar and see if the two of you can find each other.” She winked at me, and I smiled gratefully in return. At least I wasn’t the only one dabbling in this crazy experiment.
On shaky legs, I made my way to the bar and hoisted myself up onto the bar stool. With nothing else to do but look around and wait, I ordered a glass of white wine, my gaze constantly roaming the surrounding area.
“Hi.”
Ohmigod. That voice. That has to be him.
I turned slowly on my stool and came eye to eye with the most perfect-looking specimen of a man. Tall, a head taller than me, sitting on this stool, with thick wavy black hair that my hands itched to run their fingers through. He had an olive complexion and a long straight nose that looked to have never taken a punch. But it was his eyes, behind the most perfect pair of black glasses frames, that immediately captured my attention. Green, a deep shade like a polished emerald, with the smallest fleck of gold in the centre. They were the sort of eyes I could get lost in for the rest of my life.
“Hi,” he said again, a smile causing a dimple to pop in his cheek and the skin around his eyes to crinkle.
“Hi.” My one word came out sounding breathless, and I felt my cheeks heat.
“Is this seat taken?” He gestured to the empty seat next to me and instead of grimacing at this cheesy pickup line, I nodded. Eagerly.
“Yes.”
He frowned at me. Disappointed?
“I mean no!” I yelled, like the lunatic I was. “I mean, please sit down.”
His eyes crinkled at me again, like he found me cute, and I watched with a lump in my throat as he sat down. Next to me. This has to be my blind date. Right?
“What are you drinking?”
My brain blanked at this, the simplest of questions. What was I drinking?
“Umm.” I stopped. C’mon, Amelia! What’s in your glass?
“She’s drinking white wine,” the helpful bartender said, coming to my rescue.
“I’ll have the same,” he said with that heart-stopping smile. I looked at the bartender, whose nametag labelled her Sally, wondering if he’s having the same effect on her.
Sally winked at him and wandered off to get his drink, while I continued to sit, frozen, staring at him. Even blinking seemed impossible.
“Hi,” he said again, like we hadn’t already covered this particular greeting. The side of his neck heated, and I wondered if he was feeling as nervous as I was. Probably not, given he could still form words.
“Hey,” I breathed out the word. Yes! I’d finally found a word.
The wonderfully handsome stranger said nothing in return; instead, he just stared at me. I ran my hand over my hair, wishing it was a more normal shade than the fire-engine red I’d dabbled in last week, and searched for something to say. If he’s my match from the LIB app, I figured, surely, we’ll have heaps to talk about.
“Do you come here often?” The minute the words were out of his mouth, he grimaced. “Ignore that,” he muttered. “Terrible question.”
I watched with my heart in my mouth, my eyes and my stomach as he rubbed his large hand over his stubbled jaw. He seemed so awkward it made me like him even more. It’s like he’d never met a girl at a bar before.
“I’ve never been here,” I told him, putting us both out of our collective misery by finding my ability to converse again. “But I’ve heard great things.”
He had lit up. “Me too! I’ve been wanting to come here for ages but never had the time.”
This comment was weird, given his profile had him as a musician, but maybe he was a really successful one, who was too busy making music to check out the latest, trendiest restaurants in Melbourne?
“I’m Jake,” he said, causing me to frown.
Jake? That wasn’t right.
“Jake?”
We both turned in unison to find a younger version of the man who’d just captured all of my attention. Wait, what?
“Robby?”
Robby! That’s it. That was the name of my match. Uh oh, this can’t be happening.
I watched, my heart sinking from its residence in my eyes, my mouth and my stomach right down to the soles of my feet. The handsome stranger wasn’t my match for the blindest of blind dates but instead seemed to know him. Somehow?
“What are you doing here?” This was from Jake, whose previously delicious bronze complexion had taken on a greenish tinge.
“I’m here on a date,” Robby said in a voice that wasn’t as deep or as smooth as Jake’s. “A blind date.”
“With Amelia?” I finally chimed in, wanting to put an end to this.
Robby swivels his head in my direction, wearing a cheerful grin. “You’re Amelia?” His tone signalled that this pleased him and this silent approval made my sinking spirits pick up. Just a bit.
“You two? Are on a date?” Jake frowned at both of us, his eyebrows ruffled, his jaw clenching.
“Do you two know each other?” This is from Robby, and my temples throbbed at the absurdity of it all. The three of us were standing there, looking like the very embodiment of the Spider Man pointing meme. It was so ridiculous that even other people standing nearby were laughing.
“Let’s start from the beginning.” I hopped down off my stool and Jake followed suit. The two men dwarfed me, even in my highest heels, and I leaned back to look them both in the face. “I’m Amelia.” I pointed to myself, clocking the way Jake’s eyes narrowed at this. “And I’m supposed to be on a blind date with someone named Robby.”
“That’s me!” Robby raised his hand for a high-five, his enthusiasm clear.
“Yes,” I agreed, watching closely the way Jake’s cheek muscle twitched at this piece of news.
“And you two know each other how?” I motioned between the two of them, though the answer was as clear as day. They had to be related, with Robby the younger, paler, less formidable version of Jake.
“He’s my older brother,” Robby clarified, emphasizing the word old.
“Ah.”
Jake silently continued to watch this all unfold, his expression growing darker with each second.
“Do you two know each other?” Robby asked, perhaps finally picking up on the palpable vibe within our little threesome.
I stared at Jake, wondering what he was going to say. We’d only exchanged a handful of words, most of them nonsensical, so the chances were he would not say much of anything.
“We just met,” he finally conceded, looking pained.
“Yes,” I agreed. “Your brother was just keeping me company while I waited for you.”
I don’t know why I said this, though in reality, it was true, but it caused Jake to stare at me. And his expression was…wounded?
What?
“Well, I’d best leave you two to your date.” His words had a bite to them that should have baffled me but didn’t. Because I didn’t want him to leave me with his brother. I wanted him to be my LIB perfect match.
“Thanks, bro.”
I watched as Robby took the seat vacated by Jake and attempted to rally. The people and the algorithm at LIB Proprietary Limited had matched me with Robby, so I needed to see this through with him. Right?
“Have a good night,” Jake said, looking like he was wishing us anything but. “It was nice to meet you, Amelia.”
The way Jake said my name was like a warm blanket being draped over me on a wintry day. It offered me inexplicable levels of comfort, and I wanted to hear it come out of his mouth again and again.
“Bye, Jake,” I said in place of what I wanted to say. Which was, Stay and talk to me. Be my date. The algorithm got this one wrong.
“How funny, you meeting my brother tonight,” Robby said, bringing my attention back to him, back from where I’d been hungrily watching Jake walk away. Walk away with only the one backwards glance. “He barely ever has time to do anything social. A real work-a-holic, that one.”
This immediately popped the enamoured bubble that had been forming around Jake since the moment he’d said hi all of ten minutes ago. A man who worked all the time and barely did anything for fun? That sounded an awful lot like another man I’d known, the one man who’d crushed my heart. The one man I should’ve been able to count on to never hurt me that way.
“Let’s not talk about your brother.” I turned my full attention back to Robby. My date. “I want to know all about you.”
And for the next hour, that’s what I did. I learnt Robby was the fun-loving, boyishly charming person I’d been hoping to meet. And that he ticked all the boxes I’d firmly put in place for the sort of partner I desired, someone who’d put me first, above his career, above all else. It was a shame that it had all been an illusion and that he’d go on to hurt me, just like all the men who’d come before him.
*****
I shiver at the intensity of my memories and blink back to the present to see Luke and Lorelai on my TV screen on their way to their own happily ever after (though boy, that was a bumpy ride).
“Nothing good can come from thinking about Jake,” I lecture myself, my words loud and firm in my silent apartment. “We had a moment at the start, and then one moment the other night. And that’s it. They’re just two moments in time. Focus on your upcoming date. With the accountant. Your first date with someone with a proper job. Keep your eye on the prize.”
I nod. Once. Twice. Three times for good measure. This is a good thing, a healthy step in the right direction. Of not becoming my mother and of finally finding my Mr. Right after dating way, way, way too many Mr. Wrongs.