8. Chapter Eight
Chapter Eight
B eau was like WD-40 for the soul.
A newfound rush of horniness combined with stronger muscles and stretched out limbs made me in need of company. So, I threw myself to the wolves with online dating.
I downloaded a dating app to assess the area dick on demand. I set up my profile, having to find a good balance of photos. Everything I had was almost three years old and required me to crop out Chris. Disembodied hands in dating profiles didn’t bode well. I needed a fresh set but didn’t have the social calendar of someone who did cool things like attend cocktail hours, concerts, lie out on the beach, or hike. But I could pretend to be. A shower, shave, and a round of teeth whitening strips later, my mission began.
First photo, I went to my condo’s poolside. Posing in my sunglasses, floppy hat, bikini, and holding a real margarita with a fake daisy in it, I fidgeted on a lounger at the pool as if I was on vacation in Cabo. Between my props and the sunshine, all that was missing was sand, relaxation, and eighty-degree weather. I was settling for a cool fifty degrees. With enough pool chairs and pillows, my phone sat at an angle where I could manage something flattering. A hundred shots later, I discovered the pose that emphasized my boobs and the pool. Ronald and Florence from the condo down over stared confused from their perch on the hot tub. I’d edit them out in post.
This next one took fewer props but way more effort. I hiked up the Caballero de Hierro Trail to the picturesque top of it, the town of Gorda Vista below. Winter brought enough moisture to the area, so the normal rocky and dusty terrain came alive with rolling green hills and fields of orange flowers. With a few rocks and twigs, I set up my phone and propped my foot up on a boulder .
For the final photo, I had to go for something journalistic. I assessed the decor in my condo. My kitchen, with black granite counter tops, was open plan and blended within a few feet into my living room. I kept my furniture simple: a comfortable beige couch with a similarly plain easy chair, which held every blanket I ever owned. My bedroom had a similar plain yet comfortable style. I added color with my rainbow-hued pillows and framed art of my favorite illustrators, Eric Carle, Maurice Sendak, and Lizabeth Zwerger. My living situation needed to tell a more active story. I dusted off some Christmas decorations, laid out some fake evergreen on my fireplace mantel, and put on an old sequin, cocktail dress. With my hair and makeup on point, I leaned against the mantel holding a half-drunk glass of red wine. I didn’t have to fake the half-drunk part. I faked a laugh as if I heard a good joke and click took a photo. A couple more glasses of wine, I found the perfect “in the moment” photo.
With the impeccable dating profile of a cool woman, I scrolled through the menfolk offerings: awkward selfies, a sentient sunglasses and ball cap holding up a fish, a posed photo with a disembodied hand. Didn’t anybody make an effort? I settled for swiping right on an awkward selfie. Half a bottle of wine later, I finally had a match and a message.
Hi pretty lady
Eye roll. I typed.
I see you like to travel :) Where have you been?
Unmatch.
Eventually the effort of the day and the wine and margaritas took over. I was half passed out in bed until I heard a vibration. A match—one of those disembodied hands people.
The match sent a message.
Heyyy
Chilling and reading a book :) What are you up to?
Watching Netflix ;) What are you reading?
First one set the standard so low, I was already feeling heartened by this match’s art of small talk. I wasn’t going to scare them off with the real me. What important books in my library had I not managed to read?
The Testaments :D What are you watching?
Ah, a Booker prize winner. Rewatching Mindhunter .
Shit, I reeled in a cultured one. I speed-read some Goodreads reviews to help if he quizzed on my knowledge of Margaret Atwood’s latest.
Then he sent another message.
Your photos are cute .
Thx ;)
I added to my response.
Mindhunter is a good show :) Too bad about the cancellation :( I enjoy the work of David Fincher. There’s a cute indie cinema in Clarktown I’d love to go to sometime .
DTF?
Wait what? My finger hovered over the block button. I hesitated. Maybe I could mine this situation though and get an easy lay out of my system, so I wasn’t so damn awkward around Beau. This could be good for me. Heck, maybe this—I read, Ryan from Chestnut Grove—would be good for me. We’d discuss books, prestige television over drinks, and address our horny issue.
I could be… :) After a couple of date s
He sent me a photo. I tapped it and saw a dick pic, a thumb-looking thing in a mountain of tangled pubic hair.
Block button.
But all wasn’t lost. I had another match. The match messaged.
How are you doing?
Great! Chilling at home :) And you?
Not so well. Didn't respect my dairy allergy lol Now I'm stuck on the can.
Huh, not the kind of vulnerability fit for an introduction. I hit Unmatch .
Maybe getting on the dating horse was going to be a lot more difficult.