Page 3 of Talk Birdie to Me

Her life was boring by any standard. She had a 9-5 accounting job. She read cozy mysteries before bed and watched a lot of documentaries. The only interesting thing about her was the time she put in at the shelter.

“Where did you meet up?” Liz asked, taking her turn waving the feather wand at the calico. “Did you at least get a good meal out of the disaster?”

“We met at a sports bar.”

Taylor lit up with promise. “Ooh, nachos!”

“No. Not nachos.”

Nachos were not first-date food. Nachos were at least third-date food.

Her date, however, didn’t seem to follow the order of dating operations because he devoured a sandwich that poured wing sauce down his chin. He at least had enough manners to wipe the spillage after each bite, but it left her questioning his judgment.

If that was his best behavior or his first date version of being on top of his game, what would life look like with this man once he relaxed and stopped caring about how he behaved around her?

Dates had rules for a reason. They set the stage for what one could reasonably expect from the person sitting across from them. If her date couldn’t pull himself together enough to spot a chin sauce speed bump, how would he spot any bigger roadblocks ahead?

She wanted a partner. Not someone she’d have to babysit or watch, so he didn’t stumble around like a toddler.

Wing sauce might not sound like a big deal, and she knew if she explained this, she’d come across as judgmental. But she had logic and reasoning in her assessment. She was thinking ahead, something she realized other people didn’t always do.

If she was going to step into another relationship, she wanted something better than what she had before. She wanted a good match this time. Otherwise, what was the point? Better to make a quick assessment and move on rather than waste people’s time.

“At least tell me you had fries.” When Geena didn’t respond, Taylor rolled her eyes. “It’s like you aren’t even trying to have fun.”

“I can have fun without fries or nachos. Those aren’t fun requirements.”

“No, but they sure do help,” Liz said. “Moving on from food. Was he at least cute?”

Her date appeared in her mind. She remembered their first introductions. How he smiled at her, pre-wing sauce, when she arrived. He’d looked a little rough around the edges for her taste, with shaggy hair and a faded graphic T-shirt for some band she’d never heard of.

But he had a nice smile. And nice shoulders. She liked shoulders.

“Yeah, I guess so.”

“You can just admit the guy was cute,” Taylor said. “She does this all the time. She doesn’t want to admit when she thinks someone looks good. Like it’s a point against her for not being practical or some nonsense.”

“Physical appearance is the least important factor in a lasting relationship.”

Liz snorted. “Okay. Sure.”

“It is. A hot butt or whatever the trendy body part of the decade is won’t solve a disagreement or help make a tough decision down the road.”

Liz dropped the stick toy and let the cat have the feather while she scrunched her brow and turned to Taylor. “Is she always like this?”

“Always.”

Geena lowered her camera. “You mean reasonable?”

She would have thought Liz, of all people, would understand her on this. Sound decisions were more important than lustful ones.

“Reasonable is all well and good,” Liz said, “but aren’t you in the middle of a divorce?”

“Yes,” Geena said. “Even more reason to make better decisions going forward.”

“OR even more reason to give yourself a break and have some fun. The next guy doesn’t have to be the forever guy.”

Liz was correct, of course. But the idea didn’t sit right with Geena. She’d spent her whole life trying to do things correctly, to get the right answer. It’s why she liked math so much.

---