Chapter Thirteen Let Your Freak Flag Fly
Chapter Thirteen
Let Your Freak Flag Fly
Frankie
Tessa calls me that night. “Why are you home? I figured you’d be out.”
It’s Friday night. I should be out. So naturally, I lie.
“I did a self-tanner. It’s important that it develops under the right conditions.” It’s not a complete lie. I did put on self-tanner—yesterday. I’m home because I have nowhere else to be.
We talk for a few minutes more, but she has plans and needs to head out.
Charles is sleeping. And Hayes is out with Malachi. Who knows what they’re up to. They could be picking up women, for all I know.
Meanwhile, I’m home in my pajamas and it’s not even nine.
I haven’t had an adult conversation since Hayes and I called a truce and shared a happy hour cocktail.
I can’t sit around the house every night.
Charles is often in bed by 7:30, and I’m more of a night owl.
I’ll go insane if I don’t get some human interaction.
That’s it. I’ve decided. I’m going to set up a profile on one of those dating apps. I could meet someone and have a fling. Maybe a cute local.
I grab my laptop and begin typing. The key is going to be sounding normal. Bland. Vanilla. Maybe that will attract a nice, normal guy. Tessa seems to think I’m a walking billboard for red flags.
I start typing, and it’s much harder than I thought to write an engaging bio. And who am I kidding? I’m not normal.
I delete everything I’ve written and open a new window.
ChatGPT write me a dating profile.
I click enter and stare hard at the screen.
The dating profile it comes up with is even worse! I might be vanilla, but I ain’t that vanilla.
I close out of ChatGPT and make up my own, letting my creativity fly, because why not? Life’s too short to be boring.
Frankie: 30, currently globetrotting
Swipe right if you enjoy sarcasm, unsolicited snack recommendations, and watching me aggressively parallel park while laughing hysterically.
Location: Somewhere between thriving and needing a nap.
Special Skills:
Can turn any situation into a sitcom episode.
Once won an argument with a seagull (he started it).
Expert at pretending I know things about wine.
Red Flags:
Will absolutely judge your taste in gas station snacks.
Might refer to you as “buddy” just to keep you on your toes.
Laughs at my own jokes (because someone has to).
Looking for: Someone who won’t question my choice in snack foods. Bonus points if you can assemble IKEA furniture without crying.
Let’s make questionable life choices together!
Satisfied with myself, I post it to the site Tessa is always telling me about. The one where women get to make the first move. Once my profile is live, I begin sifting through the options.
Too old.
Too bald.
Too . . . political.
After searching for twenty long minutes, I find someone who looks promising.
He’s thirty-one and a surf instructor, and his profile picture is him carrying a fluffy apricot-colored dog while riding a skateboard .
. . I mean bonus points for the multitasking alone.
He also has really pretty blue eyes and sandy-colored hair.
I read over his bio with a discerning eye, searching for red flags in a way that I hope would make Tessa proud.
Ryder, 31
Professional wave chaser | Mediocre skateboarder | Certified Alpha Male
I spend my days teaching people how to surf and my nights wondering if my dog is proud of me. If you like sunset beach walks, questionable life advice, and spontaneous road trips to find the best fish tacos, we’ll get along just fine.
Looking for someone who can keep up, and won’t judge me for eating cereal straight from the box. Bonus points if you can name at least three types of clouds.
I cannot, in fact, name even one type of cloud, but I click on the message icon and type out something that I hope is cute and friendly-sounding, since according to Tessa I am monumentally bad at this.
Frankie:
Okay, first of all, I’m very impressed by your multitasking skills—carrying a dog and riding a skateboard? That’s a whole new level of impressive. Are you secretly training for the “World’s Coolest Human” competition, or is this just your everyday thing?
(Also, is the dog in charge or are you the one calling the shots here?)
Looking forward to your answer, pro skateboarder/dog whisperer.
Ryder:
Haha, you caught me! I am training for the “World’s Coolest Human” competition. It’s a tough field, but I’m in the running for most likely to have a dog who’s cuter than me.
As for the dog . . . yeah, she’s definitely the one in charge. I’m basically just her personal chauffeur. But hey, I get a good workout in, so it’s a win-win.
How about you? Any hidden talents, or are you just here to judge people’s snack choices and laugh at bad puns?
Okay so we’re off to a promising start. Why is Tessa always warning me away from dating apps? This is actually kinda fun.
I recall a conversation we once had. She all but scolded me.
“Sweetie. I’ve spent so much time on that site, they made me a mod.”
“Oh good, then give me all your best tips,” I demanded.
“The differences in our dating pool are vast. Women are flagged for having included too much personally identifying info—like them in a uniform in front of the restaurant where they work. Guys are being flagged for ahem . . . other pics.”
“Like?” I prompted.
“I’ve seen things, baby girl, let’s leave it at that.”
“Tell me. Quit being weird.”
She did tell me, and I’ve never been the same. Ick! But so far, Ryder hasn’t assaulted me with any photos of his genitalia, so that’s a plus. See? I can do the whole dating thing. Look at me, functioning like a normal human.
I roll up my sleeves and get to work coming up with a witty reply.
Frankie:
Well, you and your tiny, four-legged boss are truly redefining transportation efficiency. Next up: surfing while carrying groceries?
As for hidden talents . . . I have an elite ability to trip over absolutely nothing, I can recite the entire menu of my favorite taco truck from memory, and I once won a staring contest with a cat. (He blinked first. It was a proud moment.)
Now, tell me the truth—does your dog approve of your dating choices? Because I feel like she has very high standards.
I almost want to brag about my ability to come up with witty Wi-Fi names, but Hayes didn’t seem impressed, so I opt to leave that out.
Ryder:
Oh, Sunny would love you, I’m sure. She likes everyone. Taco truck, huh? That’s impressive. If you’re up for it, there’s a killer beach bar that has a great happy hour. Live music and everything. You up for? Tomorrow maybe?
And just like that, I have a date tomorrow.