Page 10 of Teacher of the Year

“Dr. Knorse would… I don’t even want to think about what she’d say. And with Teacher of the Year and the money the school needs… Oh, my lord. No. Just stop. Forget about it. Now find me a man,” I say, dangling my phone, eager to move past this fakakta foolishness.

“Yes, sir,” she says, clasping her hands together.

Jill smirks. She knows I detest dating apps. We simply don’t see eye to eye on them. Of course, I’m the single one. I’ve heard enough stories, andDateline’s hunky Stone Phillips should not be ignored – for his superior investigative reporting, not his chiseled jaw. If the straight-dating app-arena is a minefield, the gay-dating app-arena resembles a nuclear explosion. It simply isn’t how I fancy meeting people. You can only know so much about someone from a photo and bio. No, thank you. Does this make me a unicorn in the gay community? Absolutely. But I’m happy to be branded as such. Unicorns are fabulous anyway.

Adam and I met volunteering for the local community center. He ran a queer book group. I like books and cute men who like to read. Why are nerds so damn sexy? Their glasses and big vocabulary have me babbling like a fool. At the time, I was single and more than content to live my best life alone. Being twenty-six and adorable can do that. I did, however, want the company of other queer folks. After a couple of years of rotten first dates and even worse second dates, I decided I wasn’t looking for a boyfriend. In the back of my mind, I figured I’d find one when I stopped searching. And that’s precisely what happened. Adam’s confident energy drew me in like a moth to a flame. Or a flamer, in his case. He discussed and debated books with such ferocity, I was doomed from the start. After that first book club together, he asked for my phone number, and the rest became my personal gay soap opera.

“Give me your phone,” Jill commands.

I’d rather eat an entire bunch of bananas than give her my phone.

“Give it.” She puts her hand out and begins a stare down.

“Wait. Now, we’re only looking. Guys on those apps only want to hook up. You know that doesn’t work for me.”

A combination of daddy issues, being the child of an alcoholic, and all the bad dates and attempted hookups helped me suss out that sex without a relationship isn’t for me. I attempted to go out, meet guys, and have casual sex, but the quickness, the awkward morning afters, and the what was your name agains don’t particularly float my boat.

Her open palm moves close to my face, and the scent of her almond hand cream reminds me I need to moisturize regularly, especially in winter.

“Phone. Now. Let’s look. Looking is free!”

With the enthusiasm of a sugar addict heading to the dentist, I begrudgingly hand it over.

Quicker than me shoving a bagel and shmear into my face after fasting at Yom Kippur, Jill downloads SWISH and begins setting up my profile.

“Smile,” she instructs, and before I can turn my lips into something resembling a grin, she snaps a photo.

“Wait, I wasn’t ready. Take it again.”

“I’ll add a blurry filter. You’ll look mysterious.”

“I’ll look like a serial killer.”

“Perfect.Datelinecan feature you. Maybe Stone will interview you.”

The photo resembles a mug shot which makes me appear, at best, a criminal, if not a serial killer. Super sexy. As usual, things with Jill are moving at a breakneck speed, and I’m simply trying to keep up with her hurricane-force pace. When she sets her sights on something, an army of elephants can’t stop her. I can either attempt to keep my balance and ride the wave or drown miserably.

“All right, I’m calling you Hank in case you don’t want anyone knowing your personal information.”

“But you just took my picture.”

“It’s dimly lit here, blurry, and you could have a doppelgänger.”

Naturally. I shrug and nod.

“I’m putting down Pro: loves cats. Con: will snuggle his cat instead of you.”

“That’s scarily accurate.”

“Pro: makes a mean omelet. Con: doesn’t know how to make anything other than omelets.”

“Hey, I can make oatmeal.”

“Oatmeal isn’t sexy.”

“Not wrong.”

“And last one… Pro: can carry a tune. Con: will burst into song in public settings.”

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