Page 40 of Reel Love

Is that another question? If I’m counting correctly, you already asked one more than I did by asking if I’m close with my siblings. And now this question. If I answer you, do I get to ask another one?

I laugh. This guy.

I don’t think those two count as questions.

Beg to differ. But, let’s make this simple. Since I told you I was an introvert, you tell me. That’s fair, right? Are you? I’m guessing there are more introverts on this app than extroverts.He pauses and types. And, yes. I guess I was nervous to admit I’m an introvert. I’m surrounded by a lot of extroverts, and my family consists of fourextroverts and me. They can treat my introversion like an ailment I’ll get over or grow out of one day. I’m sort of the odd one.He pauses again. Then he types:Not odd, as in you should run for the hills and block me. Odd as in different from the majority.

I am a bit of both,I admit. Introvert and extrovert. I love people. But I need a lot of time alone and I enjoy solitude. People can burn me out. But too much time alone and I get all up in my head, which is not a good place for me to hang out in unsupervised for extended periods of time.

I hit send and look back over what I wrote and then immediately type:Now I sound creepy. I promise I’m not.

So, you’re an ambivert. That’s what it’s called when a person has strong leanings toward both introversion and extroversion.

Well, now you know.I should be a little freaked out by this new level of disclosure, but I’m not—at all. I find myself wanting to tell him more. But I won’t. I can’t, really.

Now I know.His answer is so simple, but it makes me smile anyway.

THIRTEEN

Stevens

Nothing brings people together like a group chat.

~ Unknown

Ihave one dive tour this afternoon, but my morning is free, so I’m on my boat in the harbor, reading the last few chapters ofGone With the Wind.

I smile thinking of Alana’s reaction when I told her what I was reading. I enjoy stories and poems that have spanned generations of readers. It may not be the conventional choice of most men, but I’m not exactly conventional in most things.

My phone vibrates with a text alert. It’s the family chat my mother created.

Can I just take a moment to say whoever created group chats should have a close encounter with a slime eel? Not only do you get a notification of the original message, but that’s followed by all the thumbs up reactions from every single member of the chat. Then another comment is made which instigates the flurry of hearts, LOL comments, and various emoji reactions. I might feel differently if something significant were actually being said.

Trust me. There isn’t.

Mom: Hey, my fam. I’m hoping we can hang for supper.

Dustin: Is this my mother or the teen boy from down the street?

Mitzi: Seriously, Mom. It’s not cool to use slang at your age.

Mom: And by my age, you’re implying I’m some sort of Karen Boomer?

Me: A what?

Mitzi: I’ll translate later.

Against my will, I put a thumbs up emoji in response to my sister’s message. See what these group texts do to a person?

Mom: So, are we all down for picky bits?

Dustin: Lost me there, Mom? Could you speak English?

Mom: Bruh. Picky bits. A meal you eat in hot weather that consists of cooler food so you don’t sweat trying to cook in the kitchen. Get with the times.

Mitzi: Is anyone else snort laughing?

Me: I’m not. I’m getting a headache, though.

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