Chapter 2 Marsh #3
I set my drink on the table in front of us. “For example, there’s news, which objectively can be the most prominent part of any publication. News is what’s universally topical and demanding. It’s what people around the world need to know about.”
“Well.” Lucy raises an eyebrow.
“But the difference is,” I continue, “news has no opinion, no perspective. It’s unbiased.
Nine out of ten times people read news stories and don’t care about who’s writing it, because it’s simply facts.
With sex and relationships, you’re in a vulnerable position.
There’s no way to write your column without tapping into your experiences, your emotions.
To talk about an area of your life that’s so intimate, so personal, is admirable. ”
Lucy’s brows furrow as she spins a thin gold ring on her middle finger. “Thank you” is all she says, and then she takes a deep inhale. “I technically still get one more question, since you didn’t answer my last one,” she tells me.
“Shoot.”
“Are you in a relationship?” she asks. “And that’s not the question.”
“I am not,” I say. “If I was, I don’t think we’d be sitting here right now.”
“Hm.” She lets out a noncommittal noise. Oddly, I’m not sure if that’s the answer she wanted to hear. She props her elbow on her crossed knee and her chin on her fist. “What’s your favorite part about dating?”
“Honestly?” I take a breath in and think. “Nothing.”
“Nothing?!” she repeats.
“I hate dating,” I admit. “It’s demanding, it’s tiring, it’s confusing.”
“Interesting,” she says. “Do you date with the purpose of hooking up or finding a life partner?”
“See, the fact that you have to ask me that is exactly what I mean.” I hold out a hand.
“It’s like you have to lay all of that out even before you go on a first date.
For instance, if I’m on a date with an amazing woman and it goes great and I don’t call her the next day, I’ve done something wrong.
Or if I do call her the next day, she’s upset if we’re not in a committed relationship within the month. ”
“Marsh, I hate to break it to you,” Lucy says. “It’s the same thing for women.”
“Then what do you like about dating?” I throw the question back to her.
“I like getting to know people,” she answers. “Discovering places around the city, finding out if you have chemistry with someone. Those are all fun things.”
“Sure.” I try to see it her way. “If you have the energy to do all of that. I do not.”
“What dating apps are you on?” Lucy asks, and I’m not sure if I’m ready to have my profile ripped apart, because based on the honesty of this conversation, I know she’s going to ask to see my profile. “Wait,” she says. “Are you…not using any apps?”
“To the advantage of the piece you’re writing, I prefer to meet someone organically.” I take another sip of my beer. “I have an account, but the profiles and the photos are too much for me. I never look at it.”
“How’s that been going for you?” Lucy asks. “I’m not knocking it,” she adds. “I’m genuinely curious.”
“I’m not trying to pick up people at the farmers market if that’s what you mean. But sometimes I get to talk to pretty girls at bars on a Friday night.”
Lucy looks down at the floor, and I think I’ve made her blush, which I’m assuming is not easy.
“Can I see your profile?” she asks.
There it is.
“No,” I reply.
“Come on!” She leans in closer. Close enough that I’m very aware of exactly how much space is between our knees. “I’ll show you mine!”
“No, I don’t want to learn what my online dating profile really says about me,” I protest, and another smile takes over her face. “You’ll just have to come across me like everyone else.”
“Oh, I will,” she says determinedly, and now I’m thinking about Lucy’s dating profile, her dating life.
This little detail tells me that she’s single, not like that information is important.
But it’s something that makes me relieved for some reason.
“But I get it,” she says. “Dating apps can sometimes be hit or miss.”
“Dating apps feel like a game,” I say.
“I think they were created to feel that way,” she agrees. “That’s why there’s this urge to always go back to them.”
My dating life isn’t something I talk about. So, to have this space to vent about relationships, especially with someone as honest about the topic as Lucy, is refreshing. She makes it feel like it’s okay to be vulnerable.
“I have a wedding to attend next month,” I begin to tell her. “Even finding a simple plus-one has been a nightmare.”
“That’s it?” She frowns. “You just want a plus-one?”
“Is that bad?” I hesitate, wondering if I sound like a pig.
“Whose wedding is it?”
I hold my bottle to my lips for a second. Fuck it.
“My ex.” I take a swig.
“Your ex?”
“Mhm…”
“Wow…okay.” Her face scrunches. “Why are you going to your ex’s wedding?”
“I don’t want to,” I say. “But our families are close friends and it’s how we met…It’s complicated. I just don’t want to show up alone. I know it sounds stupid—”
“No, not at all.” Lucy shakes her head. “So, you want someone hot,” she concludes like it’s that simple.
“I never said that.”
“Marsh, everyone wants someone hot.” She narrows her eyes. “When’s the wedding?”
“September 13. In Palm Springs,” I say, reminded that I have only a little more than a month to find a date. “God, I don’t want to go,” I groan.
“That’s far away enough.” She waves a hand. “You’ll be fine.”
“I appreciate your optimism.” I force a weak smile.
“Is the problem that you’re just not finding anyone who wants to go?” she asks.
“Oh no, I’ve met women who want to go.” I sigh. “But they also want to go on vacation together, they want to go on double dates with their friends, they want to do day trips to Ikea—”
“Ohhh.” Lucy closes her eyes. “Now I get it.”
“Get what?” I frown.
“You don’t want a relationship,” she states. “And at this point, anyone you start dating and take to the wedding is probably going to expect that the two of you will be exclusive.”
“Exactly,” I say, thankful that Lucy understands. “And I know that sounds shitty, but I just wish there was someone who could come, meet my family, and be fine with doing just that.”
“Why don’t you want a relationship?” Lucy squints at me.
I hesitate for a moment thinking of how to answer exactly, but I don’t necessarily owe Lucy my life story. “I just don’t want one.”
“Fair enough,” she says. “But, Marsh, there are plenty of women out there who would be happy to be a plus-one to a wedding, no strings attached. An excuse to get dressed up, have a free trip to Palm Springs, spend the evening with an attractive man, and eat free food? I think you need to start dusting off that dating app.”
I push past the fact that she just called me attractive.
“I’d rather do anything else,” I say.