9. Sebastian
NINE
SEBASTIAN
I’m sitting in a coffee shop that’s plastered with paper hearts, even though Valentine’s Day is already over.
I try not to roll my eyes over the ridiculous promotion of romantic love as I wait for my date, who went to the restroom.
It’s been an exhausting week, and I was tempted to cancel; between promotions and meetings with a team from Vancouver to develop an app for that market, I’ve barely gotten time to breathe.
But Marisol and I have been messaging all week, and I couldn’t say no to a post-work coffee and potentially more.
“So, did you do anything special last night?” she asks, taking a seat.
I take a beat to remember that for most people, February 14 is about celebrating love and not optimizing marketing opportunities.
She’s still looking at me, so I shake myself back to life, focusing on my date. Marisol is gorgeous, with long black hair, piercing brown eyes, and a tanned complexion. It’s rude to space out during our time together. “Nope, just work and the gym. How about you?”
She chuckles. “I had a girls’ night with my sisters, so I’m a little worse for wear, hence the coffee shop. We did makeovers with my niece, so that was fun.”
Marisol takes out her phone to show a photo of her with makeup that could only be described as clown-like. Her mouth is covered with a garish blob of orange-red that stretches from her lips to halfway across her cheek.
“So I’m assuming your niece is applying to cosmetology school, right?” I joke. I like a person who doesn’t pretend to look perfect all the time.
“Yep, in about twelve years or so,” Marisol replies, smiling. “She’s six.”
I almost take my phone out to show her the only photo I took of my Valentine’s Day, a sunset from my balcony that I sent Ashley, but Seth has been spamming me all day with potential engagement rings for Diana.
I don’t want Marisol to see something and get the wrong idea.
God, weddings are a nightmare, and he’s not even engaged yet.
Still, maybe we can capitalize on his wedding on our social media, even if he’s more of a behind-the-scenes guy.
We could invite the other influencers—Ashley and Tansy, who joined the team this week.
Although, who knows if Ashley will still be working on the app by the time Seth ties the knot.
This kind of promotional gimmick can’t last forever, plus knowing Ashley, she’ll meet her Prince Charming one of these days and exit the dating scene.
I picture her going on couples’ vacations with Laurel, accompanied by some tall, muscled Ken-doll type, and I almost miss her already.
Stop thinking about work, Sebastian. I focus on Marisol, who is still talking about her niece.
“She sounds adorable.” I missed half of what she said, including the kid’s name, but I’m sure she’s cute. Despite being uninterested in the whole partnering up thing, I do like other people’s children, at least for short periods of time.
“She’s a handful,” Marisol replies, shaking her head. “I’m not up for that lifestyle any time soon.”
“Amen to that.” I raise my latte and catch her eye. She’s even prettier in person than in her photos, and I chide myself for letting my attention slide.
“So what do you do?”
“I work in tech.” While developing a dating app is a good opener in the wild, when I meet women on the platform, I’d rather not reveal myself as the founder.
Either it sounds like I’m lying—because frankly, who would believe that?
—or like I’m doing some secret shopper experiment.
That’s why my Mr. Six account is incognito too. “I’m a programmer.”
She nods blandly. Very few people ask follow-up questions about programming. Ashley is one of the few people I know who thinks the back end is interesting, even if she doesn’t have the expertise to follow my ramblings about it.
“What do you do, Marisol?”
I touch her hand lightly, and she smiles slightly. “Art therapist.”
“That’s so cool. Tell me more.”
One advantage to dating a lot is hearing what people do with their lives.
I mostly went into computer science because I was good at it, and it seemed like a good way to get a job and get out of my mom’s house.
Meeting women who do art therapy or urban planning or even goat yoga opens my eyes to all the different ways people fill their days.
Since I go on so many first dates, I get tiny snippets of a lot people’s lives, and it’s fascinating.
Marisol’s eyes light up when she talks about some of the children she works with.
I try to listen, but my brain keeps going back to our app influencer project.
Tansy has gotten off the ground as Downtown Diva, bringing a new perspective on dating as a Queer woman, and Ashley’s Miss Midtown profile has gained a loyal following.
She manages to mix in hilarious stories with dating tips and genuinely introspective reels about the realities of dating and the trade-offs you have to make in relationships.
Still, it’s the funny videos where she shines—the one with the guy and his parents had a lot of reactions.
Ashley would love hearing about art therapy. I consider introducing them, but that’s ridiculous. Marisol seems like a cool person, but this is a one-time thing. We both agreed we aren’t looking for relationships, so I’ll probably never see her again.
Tonight, however, we can make the most of things. Or we should be able to. Instead, I’m distracted as images of sitting intertwined with Ashley on her couch flash through my mind.
“It sounds so rewarding,” I say, catching the end of her story, which does sound fascinating.
Marisol gives me a shy smile. “Thanks. Hey, I’m not in the mood for drinks, but if we’re done with the coffee, maybe we could grab dinner? I know great tapas place not far from here.”
I look down at my hand, still on top of hers. Despite her gorgeous face, I realize I’m not in the mood. “Sounds like fun, but I’m beat. Maybe we can take a raincheck?”
“Oh, okay.” She seems surprised, but not terribly disappointed.
We grab our things and leave, and I tell myself I’m just tired. I need to go to bed early. But instead, I stay up late, obsessing over accounting spreadsheets and not thinking too hard about why I cut my date short.
“Too many wild nights there, Don Juan?” I open my eyes to see Seth smirking from his desk. For a guy who has never played the field in his life, he’s been accepting of my commitment-phobic tendencies, but he’s less cool with me falling asleep at work.
“You could say that.” I lean my head back in my chair and stifle a yawn. “I never thought I’d get tired of the game, but maybe my thirties are catching up to me.”
I have to admit that a month into life as a dating influencer, the late nights are getting to me, along with extra email monitoring on top of regular work.
All the evenings seem to blur together. It’s only been a couple of weeks since Valentine’s Day, but it feels like I’ve barely slept since then.
I hadn’t anticipated the added time commitment of both dating broadly and filming videos about it, even though it’s mostly been fun.
Seth bursts out laughing. “Well, you’re older than me, so I’ll take your word for it.”
I shake my head. He’s exactly five months younger, but he pulls this card a lot.
“So you don’t have some hot date tonight?”
It’s late on Friday afternoon. I’ve contemplated texting a new acquaintance to see if she wants to grab a drink, but suddenly I don’t have the energy to put my best foot forward.
“I don’t know yet,” I reply, not quite ready to admit I may have bitten off too much, considering it’s helped us gain traction. “What are you up to?”
He sighs. “Diana’s brother is in town, so we’re stuck hanging out with the family all weekend. I guess I should take off now, or we’ll be late.”
“Well, have fun with that,” I say, as he gathers his things. His expression says fun is unlikely to be part of the evening.
I take out my phone to text the woman I’ve been talking to, hovering over the dialogue box. Instead I open my thread with Ashley.
What are you up to tonight, Miss Midtown? Another round of drinks with a sexy stranger?
Ashley:
I’m exhausted. Not in the mood to schmooze with a new guy tonight.
I thought maybe I’d do a night in with Laurel, but I’m sure she’s busy doing couple things.
So do a night in with me. Come over and we’ll watch a movie.
This is probably a bad idea, but now that I’ve put it out there, I realize I do want to chill with Ashley.
I mean actually chill, not a euphemism. We never used to hang out this often, but this collaboration has thrown us together more and reminded me how much I’ve always enjoyed spending time with her.
I promise, no funny business.
Did you just say “No funny business”? Are you my dad now???
Okay, no ulterior motives then, young lady.
Sounds like a plan. What time? I’ll bring dessert and you can order pizza.
But don’t keep me out past curfew. I have to run early tomorrow morning.
I can work with that.
Ashley shows up with fancy cupcakes and peruses the streaming options, finally deciding on The Princess Bride. Again. It was always her go-to pick after a bad breakup back in the day. She said Inigo’s desire for vengeance was relatable, but I suspect true love is what keeps her going back.
“Haven’t you already seen this like a thousand times?” I ask as I bring two cans of seltzer out from the kitchen. “You know, they’ve made a few more movies since the eighties.”
“But none as good as this one,” she says with a smile. “You invited me, so I’m picking the movie.”