Page 31 of See You at the Finish Line

“Caleb ruined my life,” I say dramatically, knowing full well it wasn’t entirely his fault. He didn’t have to be a rat, though. When I finally got back to Vancouver, we had it out. The last words he spoke to me were, “If I had known you were such a pussy, I never would have stayed friends with you.” And that was it. Finally recognizing Caleb as the asshole he is was the only good thing that came out of being disqualified.

I did look up Paige, but I never got up the nerve to contact her. I was upset at first, not with her exactly, but with the whole situation. Caleb betrayed me, and I wasn’t in the right headspace to deal with it all.

The more time that passed the harder it was to reach out to her. So I didn’t. I settled for silently stalking her online. Every day I would tell myself that it was time to either message her or stop pining. She stopped posting over a year ago, dropping off the face of the earth. Her last post said she was taking time away for her mental health.

She’s never posted again.

I was irrationally irritated at that, but it set me free. I had let checking her profiles become an addiction—not a good look for me. So while I still wonder about her, she doesn’t haunt me like she used to.

At least, that’s what I tell myself.

I erase my answer to the last question.

Dislikes: people who don’t like animals.

There, that’s better. It shows I like animals and hides my baggage.

“Pathetic,” Mateo mutters.

“What?”

“People are going to think you’re a serial killer.”

“Why?” I skim my profile. Everything looks normal to me, not that I’ve ever signed up for online dating before.

“Women want to see that you actually care.” He turns his screen towards me. There’s so much writing that it takes me a few minutes to read everything.

Name: Mateo Ruiz

Age: 36

Occupation: physical therapist for professional athletes—yes I can get you tickets to Whales games

Likes: a woman who is not scared to speak her mind, who is competitive and thrives on being challenged. Bubble baths, and Taylor Swift. Reality dating shows and snuggling up with my Weimaraner. Watching sportsfor the funny moments in between, especially hockey players and their goalies.

Dislikes: women who don’t know their own worth. Not being able to go outside when it’s raining. When I open my cupboards for the tenth time and none of my favourite snacks have magically appeared. Going anywhere without my emotional support water bottle. People leaving their dogs in the car. Reels that don’t have captions.

I look at him, trying to contain my laughter.

“What?” It’s his turn to ask.

“You sound like a walking cliche. I’m surprised you didn’t say you love long walks on the beach.”

He looks like he’s considering adding that when he realizes I’m joking. “Too cheesy?”

“Too serial killer-y—in a different way than mine.”

He genuinely looks offended. “But all of this is true.”

“Yeah, I know, but it makes you sound like you searched ‘What do women want in a man?’ and copied the answers.”

Furious, he turns back to the screen, rereading his answers. I can see when the realization clicks in his brain.

“I do sound like a cliche. My mom would be so proud.” He doesn’t change a word before hitting save. I roll my eyes and click the button to publish my own profile. Almost immediately Mateo’s phone pings. And for the next several hours his phone continues to alert him to the fact that women like him more than me.

My phone stays quiet. I swear it’s the most judgemental silence I’ve ever heard. Except for maybe my dad’s.

While Mateo checks out his latest match, I take a sip from my beer and look around the club. We got here twenty minutes ago. It’s a relatively crowded place. I don’t like it much, but Mateo insisted on picking our spot for the night since he’s clearly the superior male. Can’t argue there.

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