Chapter 3
THREE
Zara
Today is Tuesday. That means that tomorrow is Wednesday, which also means that it is my day when I meet my brother for lunch.
I look over my calendar to make sure there is nothing that I would need to reschedule for the next day, although, I never make any appointments that would interfere with my weekly lunch date with my brother.
Most people would find it odd that I am so insistent on having lunch with Owen every week, rain or shine. But it’s our thing. It has been our thing since I moved in the area. We didn’t start this tradition on purpose, it evolved to be that way, and it is my favorite day of the week.
Because of our shared experience with our father, Owen has always understood my anxiety when it came to him showing up when he promised that he would.
The devastation left behind by our father affected me the most, and I never truly recovered from it, even after I cut all contact with him.
I thought that would solve all my issues, but it only left me more upset and just lost in general.
Owen, like the best big brother that he’s always been, rushed to my rescue. He understood how important it was for me that he showed up every week without fail. I am making every effort to relax a little when he does run late, although, last week, I slipped.
My cell phone dings with a message. When I see his name on the screen, I worry that he might have to cancel our lunch tomorrow. With shaky fingers, I unlock the screen, then frown at the words.
Owen: I expect an update on your search for a date
It takes me a second to realize what he is even talking about. Then, I remember. I said I wouldn’t have a problem bringing a date to his friend’s Fourth of July party.
Me: I will give an update when I am ready
Owen: I would like to meet this person before you show up with him at the party. Don’t ambush me with it, Z
That last part makes me chuckle. He is giving me contradictory signals. On one hand, he’s pushing me into finding a date for this party, forcing me more like. On the other hand, he wants to give the final approval.
Me: I’d rather surprise you
I wait for a few seconds to see if he says anything back.
When he doesn’t, I stare blankly at my phone.
I’m not quite sure how to find a date at such a short notice.
I am down to a handful of weeks now, and I wish I could just pay someone to go with me only to prove to my brother that he doubted me for nothing.
That actually puts an idea in my head. There has got to be some online business that provides such service. I rush to grab my laptop and log in, but freeze when it’s time to type something in the search bar.
My fingers tremble slightly as they hover over the keyboard. This is a lot harder than I thought, but only because I don’t have a creative mind. I am all about the numbers. They are predictable and never disappoint. Creativity never attracted me in any way.
Taking a deep breath in, I finally type.
How to find a date fast? I press enter and wait, holding my breath as the results of my search load up.
When I can focus my eyes on the words, I am equally overwhelmed and disappointed by what I read.
Everything suggests that the best course is to sign up for a dating app and find singles in your area.
“How to find a date without an app,” I say the words as I type them.
The results are once again nothing that I would like. Everyone suggests social gatherings, meetups, joining clubs or various other interests. Somebody suggests to use spontaneity to strike up conversations. That’s a definite no for me.
“Okay, let’s try again,” I mutter, with the tip of my tongue stuck in the corner of my mouth.
I try my hardest to concentrate so that I can come up with a better way of wording what I am actually looking for.
I don’t need this date to go beyond the Fourth of July weekend, which is why I wouldn’t want to mess around with a dating app.
Suddenly, an idea strikes. Date for hire , I type in.
I press enter, then wait for the page suggestions to load.
When they do, I about scream in distress.
The first few are definitely prostitution related, I decide.
Clenching my teeth, I decide to continue scrolling, although, the more I do, the worse it gets.
That’s until something catches my attention.
Need a date for a holiday event? A family dinner with nosy relatives pestering you about settling down?
“Yes, and… sort of yes,” I reply like they’re actually talking to me.
With that in mind, I click on the link, surprised by how cheerful the website is when it finally loads.
They have pictures of couples laughing, out to dinner in large groups.
Nothing about it suggests that it would be romantic in nature, which is exactly what I am looking for.
My eyes run over the text that describes their services, but I am reading so fast, I can’t process the words, so I have to start over.
The Holidates app is the perfect answer to your busy lifestyle needs. With this dating app, find the perfect rental date; both parties set the terms and conditions, absolutely no strings attached.
“Wow…” I let out a long breath of air. This is too good to be true. It checks all the boxes.
Since I am a little skeptical about it, I open a new tab on my laptop and do a search of the Holidates app, looking specifically for reviews.
My eyes further widen in surprise when I find that they are mostly positive, with an average of four point eight out of five stars.
Instinctively, I click on the negative reviews, hoping they’d give me more insight into this app.
They give me nothing, though. The complaints are that the person they got matched with were not interested in developing a more romantic connection once the event they were asked to attend was completed.
“This is amazing,” I mumble to myself once again. I feel almost giddy with it as I go back to the main page, following the necessary steps to create an account. I give my name, a brief description of what I’m looking for and the location.
The hardest part is when I am asked to load a picture for my profile. The only one that would work is my professional headshot from work. I hesitate for all but a second before uploading it. Once that’s done, I give everything a once-over and hit submit.
My hands feel instantly clammy, and panic threatens to take over. This entire experience is completely out of my element. I am suddenly scared that I made a mistake, and I wonder if I should go back and delete the account I just created. But then, I change my mind.
I stand up from the couch and shake my hands a couple of times.
“Okay, it’s all okay,” I say out loud. “I will take a shower, get my lunch ready for tomorrow, lay my clothes out, then get back on here to make a list of potential candidates.”
Listing everything like that makes me feel better. I have a mission, and I will complete it in the order I mentioned everything.
The next forty-five minutes go by in a blur.
I feel oddly unsettled, forgetting to pay attention to details like I normally would.
For example, I throw my lunch into the bag I take with me every day.
Usually, I make sure everything is in there just so, and looking at it now, it gives me anxiety.
I take everything back out and organize it so that it fits in a way that doesn’t look messy.
The same thing happens with the clothes that I want to wear on the next day. I forget to pick a pair of underwear, finding myself just staring at the drawer that contains all my undergarments.
By the time I get back to my laptop, I am close to being out of breath, and almost in need of another shower.
According to the reviews I read, it is easier to look through the list of candidates through the app on your phone or tablet as opposed to the website.
I take a minute to download it and log in, but then, I feel completely lost.
“I don’t understand this…”
I’ve always tended to speak to myself when in distress, and tonight qualifies me as being in distress.
“Get it together, Zara,” I try to encourage myself. “You got this.”
The amount of people signed up on this app is overwhelmingly high. I keep on scrolling for a long time before realizing that I didn’t use the filters properly. Backing out of that page, I start over, paying more attention to all the options.
There’s a question about how many miles outside your area you’d be willing to go.
At first, the answer is obvious. I want someone who lives as close as possible.
But then, I’m not sure whether that’s a good idea.
Why would I want someone this close? What if we end up having people in common? I would not like that at all.
I go back and edit my zip code, choosing a small town that’s about twenty miles away from where I live. Then, I pick a fifty-mile radius in the opposite direction. That should do it.
I have no idea how much time I spend scrolling through endless pages of men who I want nothing to do with. In all honesty, I have no idea what I am actually looking for. My eyes go over the pictures on their profiles, but none of them speak to me.
Taking a deep breath in, I go back to the filter. I guess I never chose a calendar date for my event, which is why I have so many results in my search.
“I hate this so much,” I whisper to myself, like I am scared that someone could hear me.
For a brief second, I get distracted by the realization that I don’t have a social life to speak of.
It’s not that I don’t interact with people, because I do.
But I never go out for happy hour or any weekend events they invite me to.
In fact, I know that the invitations have slowed down considerably.
I guess what would the point be in inviting me when they already know I will say no.
Deep down, I understand why my brother pushed me into bringing a date to this party, even though he knows how I am. He is trying to push me and bring me out of my shell.
In that same respect, I feel slightly betrayed by both him and our mother. They want me to get over it, but they don’t understand how much the past still affects me to this day. They are the only two people in this world who I trust.
I find it so baffling that the actions of one man inflicted so much distrust that’s been following me from such a young age.
At some point, my mother tried to get me into counseling.
All I did was cry and scream in protest, refusing to speak with my counselor.
After a couple of months of the same thing, the lady suggested to my mother that she would give me a break.
I calmed down, and we never talked about counseling again.
I learned to hide my misery, but I didn’t do a very good job of it since both Owen and mom got my number. And now… now I am left to find a suitable date on the internet.
“Okay, focus, Zara!”
The words echo in the silence of my house, once again bringing home the fact that I never have anyone around.
Maybe this will be good for me, I decide.
The least it can do is to help me talk to a stranger without finding a million reasons why I shouldn’t.
This is a totally no strings attached situation.
I bring my focus back to the search, this time putting more effort into it. Once I enter the holiday I need a date for, the number of results becomes considerably smaller.
“We’ll make a list.”
This is when having another person around would become handy, because talking to myself during the entire process is just weird.
“Ugh!”
I roll my eyes toward the ceiling and shake off this feeling of ineptitude that’s suddenly hit me. How hard can it be to narrow down my list? I will save ten names, then go from there.
“Ahhh!” I yell at the ceiling when I can’t think of how I want to start this.
Getting up from the couch, I rush to the kitchen to grab a pad of paper and a pen.
I flip to a clean page, then start drawing lines, building myself a table.
I will worry about transferring it to an Excel sheet once I have a better picture of what I’m looking for here.
Column one, nice eyes. That’s the only physical trait I’m looking for. If I don’t trust his eyes, he is out.
Column two, pleasant personality.
Column three, punctual. This actually deserves three exclamation points because it is important.
Column four, not local.
I sit up and stare at my list, happy with what I came up. It makes sense, and it will be much easier choosing potential candidates now that I have a clearer picture in my head.
Grabbing my cell phone, I open the Holidates app and go back to filtering and sorting. I’m not sure how much time I spend that way, but I do know that I am exhausted when I finally put the phone down for the night.
I snuggle into the decorative pillow on my couch, feeling like I have accomplished something. I have five individuals saved in my to keep folder. Next step will be to contact them and gauge their interest, as well as decide whether we’d be compatible.
Too late I realize that compatibility shouldn’t play a part in any of this. We are getting together for one event, not for a long-term relationship. Who cares if we’re compatible?