6. Chapter Five Gloria
Chapter Five: Gloria
“ R aina! Finally!” I’ve been praying for her to pick up my FaceTime call despite the ten-hour time difference between Dorapolis and L.A.
“Of course! We wrapped up filming a few weeks ago so I’ve just been on ‘maternity leave’ in Dorapolis. I forced Kostas to bring me breakfast in bed and watch Downton Abbey with me. It’s great.” She grins. “But what’s up with you?”
“London and I made a deal.” I take a deep breath as I prop up the laptop on my knees, leaning back in the tufted orange armchair in my living room. “Or a bet. Or a contract. Or something.”
“Did you guys make a marriage pact?”
“What? No! I did not make a marriage pact with him. I made a dating pact.”
Wait, that sounds even worse.
“You’re going to date each other?” Raina’s brown eyes widen. Even though it’s nine pm in Dorapolis, she looks wide awake.
“Are you jumping to all the wrong conclusions on purpose?”
“Yes. Keep going.” She waves an impatient hand.
I sip my iced matcha latte. “We agreed that if I meet and date a guy who fulfills all the qualities on my boyfriend list by August, he’s going to date a woman for longer than two months.”
“What?” She pouts. “Why two months? Are you telling me London Boy has never dated anyone for longer than two months?”
Ever since that Taylor Swift song came out, she’s been calling London London Boy . I find it kind of funny, but I’ll never tell London that.
“Nope.”
“That’s weird. He seems like the type of guy who would talk about marriage and commitment on the first date.”
I sigh. “Is this because you think he’s boring?”
“I think he’s… safe.”
“That’s Raina-speak for boring.”
“Okay, fine, I think he’s kind of boring, but maybe you need more boring in your life. I mean, imagine if you were dating the male equivalent of me. That would be insane.”
I chuckle at the mental image. “I have enough of you in my life. I don’t need to date your male clone.”
“Exactly. Anyways. Why did you guys make this dating pact? Why aren’t you guys dating each other instead?”
I sigh deeply and rest my cheek on my palm. “You know why.”
“Thanksgiving?”
“Thanksgiving.”
Six years ago, when we were both single, London and I hung out all the time. Since I didn’t have any family in Los Angeles, London invited me to his house for Thanksgiving.
I made small talk with his siblings, and offered to help peel potatoes and do the dishes.
His sister, Savannah, and I got along well since she was only a few years older than me and also planning to become a lawyer.
I even held out hope that London would see how well I got along with his family, and ask me out.
Then, after dinner, while everyone else was in a food coma, I helped his mom wash the mountain of dishes. In between scrubbing pots, pans, and baking sheets, she told me London was her favourite child.
Well, she didn’t come out and say it, but she told me how much she appreciated that he was always there for her. That she could always rely on him to be her rock. How she knew that whoever he dated would have to meet her exacting standards.
Basically, she said no woman would ever be good enough for her son. No woman would ever understand what he needed. And no woman would ever be able to compete with the needs of his family, because London always put his family first.
“Gloria, that was his mom, not him. It doesn’t mean he feels that way about you,” Raina says.
“Maybe. But I don’t want to confess my feelings only to find out that he and his mom share the same opinions on women. Plus, imagine if we got married. I would have to deal with his mom hating me for the rest of my life.” A shudder wracks me at the thought.
“Then he’s a momma’s boy and not worth your time.
” Raina folds her arms over her chest. “Come on, Gloria. Would you rather spend your whole life not knowing how he really feels about you? You guys have been friends for almost ten years at this point. Do you want to spend another ten years dating gas station attendants and pining away for him? What if he marries someone else?”
“Then he never loved me,” I say.
“He never knew you loved him!”
“And he’s not getting married.” A headache throbs at my temples as I say my next words. “He doesn’t want a family. ”
I wonder if his mother knows that. The thought of knowing something about London that she doesn’t gives me a warped sense of victory.
“He—what?” Raina frowns. “I mean, I’m not judging, but why?”
“I don’t know. He’s just always been firm about that. Maybe he’ll meet a woman who also doesn’t want kids and they can live a happy, child-free existence together.” Tears burn in the back of my throat and I swallow them down. “This isn’t what I called you to talk about.”
“Okay. I can tell this is upsetting you.” Her expression morphs to one of concern. “I’m sorry I brought it up. I won’t push the subject, okay?”
“Thanks.” I sniff and drink more matcha. “Anyways, I made a spreadsheet.”
“Why is it every time we talk these days, you’re making really boring things like lists and spreadsheets?”
“Hey, I also made an algorithm.”
“You can’t code, Gloria. How did you make an algorithm?”
“I asked Reggie, the IT guy from work, to do it for me.” I grin.
“Why would you make an algorithm and a spreadsheet? Is this for work?”
“No, Rain, it’s for my dating life. I made a dating spreadsheet.”
“Has anyone ever told you that you’re fantastic at sucking the romance out of life?”
“I’m going to take that as a compliment.” I toss my hair over one shoulder like I’m Pia Wurtzbach walking across the stage at a Miss Universe pageant.
“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but tell me more about your dating spreadsheet and algorithm.”
“I’ve narrowed down a list of men that I matched with on Match, Tinder, and Hinge.
From there, I asked Reggie to help me create a bot that filters out men who live with their mothers or put in their profile that they want a girl who ‘doesn’t take herself too seriously.
’” I hate that ridiculous phrase. “I also filtered men by profession, age, height, and ethnicity. ”
Raina snorts. “Did you also get their dental and criminal records?”
“No. Great idea, though,” I say just to tease her.
She groans. “Gloria, I was just kidding. Please don’t.”
“I won’t. Using my spreadsheet, I’ve ranked the men from most to least eligible based on my list of qualities, and I’ve scheduled three different dates already.” That should be enough to get my mind off London, and how I’m the last woman on Earth he would date.
Okay, maybe not the last. Maybe if we were the only two people left, he would agree that we could have children to repopulate the human race.
Maybe. Like, a 0.00001 percent chance.
Not that I want to have children with London Young. Nope.
“So how many men did you find who seem to fit your dating criteria?”
I check the spreadsheet. It’s colour-coded pink. “Eleven.”
She whistles. “Not bad. When’s your first date?”
“Monday.” That gives me Sunday to get a mani-pedi, do a face mask, and ensure total and utter full-body relaxation before throwing myself into work and the dating scene again. “And if you wanted any more proof that London’s not into me, this dating spreadsheet was his idea.”
“Really. He sat you down and said, ‘Gloria, I think you should make a spreadsheet ranking various men based on how much they fit your boyfriend list.’”
“No! And why does your version of London have a British accent?”
“He’s London Boy . Duh.”
“So he didn’t explicitly tell me to make a spreadsheet, or a list. But he told me that since I organize the rest of my life, why not have a dating strategy too?”
“Maybe because, like I said, it drains all the romance out of dating. ”
“Raina, you married your husband because he ran into you in a coffee shop and offered you five million dollars to be his fake wife. I don’t think you have any leg to stand on when it comes to romance in dating.”
“Okay, you have a point there. But look how happily in love we are now!”
“And maybe I will fall happily in love with whatever perfect guy is out there who matches my eighteen-point dating criteria,” I protest.
“I hope you’re hearing yourself.” She shakes her head, then yawns. “I have to go to bed.”
“Thanks for picking up the phone. I miss you.”
“I miss you too, Gloria.” She smiles. “We need to hang out again soon, okay? Before I have this baby.”
I smile. We make plans to meet again and hang up.
Despite all my confidence in my dating plan, I’m suddenly a little more unsure that it’s going to work.