Chapter 12 A Perfect Match
A PERFECT MATCH
Poppy
After returning from my visit last month with Cici, clients suddenly came out of the woodwork. Along with the catching up I had to do, it wasn’t possible to focus on my new endeavor to find a man. But since it’s Thanksgiving weekend, I have no showings or plans for the next couple of days.
It’s nice having a moment to finally breathe, and after stuffing myself with turkey yesterday, I’ll need the whole weekend to recover. With our offices closed and most people on vacation for the holiday, I might as well get started on my manhunt.
Getting comfy in an oversized T-shirt and grabbing a beer, I settle on the couch with a blanket, then open the app for the first time since being approved. I’m seriously nervous. What if Cici’s right and I’m crazy to think this could work without knowing what the guy looks like?
Okay, pull it together, Poppy. You can do this.
At least their height, weight, hair, eye and skin color are listed, and luckily, it’s required to submit a picture to the company for verification. Plus, even if I have a match, that doesn’t mean I have to engage. Although that is the reason I’m doing this.
Chugging some of my beer, I steel my resolve and focus on the first profile. He seems normal with no red flags, but I won’t make any choices until I’ve seen a few more.
I like that you don’t have to choose immediately and can save profiles you want to go back to. That way, you can pick one or two at a time to talk to, while having the rest to refer to when ready for someone else.
So far, I’ve saved three out of ten when I come across a profile that makes my skin prickle. It’s… perfect. Almost too perfect. It seems impossible for anyone to tick this many boxes and be real.
He’s fit, according to his activity level, height, and size.
They don’t ask for weight but use words like curvy, medium build, or svelte.
He’s a regular at the gym and says he’s of medium build.
He drinks socially but no drugs or smoking.
He’s a career-minded professional and is ready for a relationship.
I’m squealing in delight as I read on.
His signature physical trait is sideburns, which I’ve recently become a fan of. On a side note, we put freckles on mine, but didn’t indicate red hair. Less chance of creeps like Braden, who might only want the answer to the same question he had.
It’s like this guy was made for me, and I’m filled with hope, wondering if I’m finally on the right track. With nervous excitement, I take a deep breath while hovering over the button to like the profile, willing myself to press it.
After I do, only a second passes before a message pops up on the screen saying we’ve matched. Oh my God. The first one, and it’s the one. Mr. Perfect.
I’m not sure what happens next. Does he reach out, or should I? I don’t want to be the one to make the first move. I guess I could start by clicking on the notification.
It opens a chat window that says, “Congratulations! You’ve made a match. Take this opportunity to say hi.” While I stare at it, contemplating what to do, a message appears.
Owen: Hey, Poppy. It seems we’ve matched.
Oh my God. Oh my God. I’m hyperventilating, bouncing on the couch. Shit. I need another beer for this. Plus, I can’t look too eager, so I set the phone down and go to the kitchen to grab one before replying.
Poppy: Hi, Owen. This is my first match so I’m not sure how it works.
Dots appear, showing he’s typing.
Owen: I suppose we should get to know each other. How about we play one of my favorite games? Truth or dare?
I giggle. Oh, good lord, he’s already got me laughing.
Poppy: We’re not with each other, so how would we do the dare part?
Owen: It takes a certain level of trust.
Poppy: I don’t know you enough to trust you.
Owen: Let’s change that. You up for it?
Poppy: Who goes first?
Owen: You go ahead.
Poppy: All right, Truth or dare?
Owen: Oooh, tough choice. I don’t know you well enough to decide.
Okay, I’m laughing again.
Owen: Let’s start with a truth.
Poppy: Why did you sign up for a dating app?
Owen: Great question. To meet you, of course.
Oh God. I’m grinning from ear to ear.
Owen: Okay, my turn. Truth or dare?
Poppy: Dare
Owen: Risky. Text your last hookup that your feet smell, with no other explanation.
Poppy: No way. What if I don’t do hookups?
Owen: Then the last person you slept with. Are you forfeiting out of the gate?
Poppy: Ugh. No, I’ll do it.
I can’t believe this. What if I just say I did it but don’t? He’d never know. But then, if we end up together, I’d have lied, and what if he asks to see the text?
Owen: Are you chickening out?
Poppy: Just give me a minute. I’m doing it.
Here goes nothing. Taking a deep breath, I type out the message to Braden, wondering how this will go after I shut him down last week.
The crazy thing is, a part of me wanted to meet up with him since I haven’t stopped thinking about what we did.
But I know it would bite me in the ass if I gave in.
Booty calls may be the norm for him, but I couldn’t keep my heart out of it if they became a habit.
Poppy to Braden: My feet smell.
Poppy: All right. I did it.
Owen: Good girl. Your turn.
Poppy: That’s it? You’re just going to trust me?
Owen: Isn’t that what all solid relationships are based on?
Oh. My. God. A ‘good girl’ and a meaningful statement back-to-back. I’m swooning over here.
Braden: I’m sorry to hear that, Mouse. Too bad I’m not with you.
Poppy: How would that help?
Braden: I’d wash your feet.
WTH? He can’t be serious.
Owen: Are you there?
Oh shit, what have I gotten myself into? I’m talking to two men at once. This is wrong on so many levels. Not to mention, really difficult to keep track of.
Poppy: Sorry. Truth or dare? Though I think you owe me a dare after that.
Owen: LOL, I’ll indulge you this time. Dare.
Ugh. I wasn’t ready. I have no idea what to make him do, and I can’t copy him. However, giving him a taste of his own medicine sounds good. Hmmm, it’s too easy to pass up.
Poppy: Text your last hookup that you want to wash her feet.
Owen: Cute. And completely unoriginal.
Poppy: You started it.
Shoot. I left Braden hanging, but another text shows up anyway. I must’ve taken too long.
Braden: Is this a bad time to share my foot fetish? I’d love to wash your feet. I’m hard just thinking about it.
Wait. What the hell? I screwed up with that dare, since now it’s even harder to keep each conversation straight. I’m so confused.
Owen: Done. Truth or dare?
Poppy: Truth
Owen: Best sexual experience.
Poppy: Uh…
Braden: Did the foot fetish scare you away?
Poppy: Shouldn’t the threesome have done that already?
Braden: Did it?
Owen: Too soon? Rewind. What’s your relationship dealbreaker?
Poppy: Liars. Your turn, truth or dare?
Owen: Don’t I deserve a follow-up question to that?
Poppy: Rules are rules. One question per turn.
Owen: Ah… so you’re a stickler for rules, I’ll remember that. Fine, I’ll go with a truth.
Poppy: Give me a minute. I need to think of something and grab another beer.
Owen: I’ll grab one too. We can have a drink together.
Poppy: For some reason, no.
Braden: I’m glad. But regardless, I don’t plan on sharing you again.
Poppy: I’m not yours to share.
Braden: Not yet.
Poppy: Not ever.
Braden: We’ll see about that.
What the heck? I pad into the kitchen for my third beer, completely perplexed at the situation.
Tossing my empty bottle into the trash, I open the fridge for another and return to the couch.
If someone had told me I’d be sitting here talking with a potential date and a past hookup, I’d have called them insane.
Even crazier is that “past hookup” is a phrase in my vocabulary.
At least this is fun. I like the option of chatting through text, rather than the stress of meeting in person and having to be on. It’s easier to be myself and not panic over my appearance or how I sound.
But whatever this is with Braden is crazy. I figured I’d never talk to him again, let alone be bantering back and forth. I’m not sure what this means, or where to go from here, but I’m already in this mess, so I’ll see it through. At least it’s only over the phone.
Owen: Did I lose you?
Poppy: I’m here. Just had to get settled. What’s the biggest misconception about you? Cheers, by the way.
Owen: Cheers to you. Let me think about it. Don’t go anywhere.
Poppy: I’ll be waiting.
I’ve got to be quicker at transitioning between conversations.
Braden: What are you doing tonight other than texting me about your stinky feet?
Visiting the Twilight Zone. Having a conversation with two men at once like some hussy. Wondering what the hell is happening right now.
Poppy: Relaxing. I’ve hardly been able to since I’ve been back.
Braden: I wish I could help you with that.
Poppy: I don’t think you’d be much of a help.
Braden: You were pretty relaxed after I made you come.
I can’t believe he said that. I’m fanning myself, suddenly too hot, and removing the blanket covering me. That he can provoke a reaction from a thousand miles away is insane.
Owen: That I have no heart. Truth or dare?
Wait… what? I scroll up to look at my question. Oh. That sounds bad. Why would people think he has no heart? Is it because he’s mean? That was too ambiguous. I need to make a list of concerns for later.
Poppy: Truth. We should keep learning more about each other.
Owen: It’s okay to admit you’re scared of another dare.
Poppy: As if…
Shoot, I have to respond to Braden, but I can’t let him think he got to me with that comment. Maybe I’ll take a page from his book.
Poppy: Yeah, but I don’t need you for that.
Braden
Damn. My dick goes rock-hard as I lie in bed at the vision conjured by her retort. I like the direction this is taking. I’ve been trying to keep things PG with Owen, but the conversation with Braden allows me to spice things up.