Page 56 of Debugging Love

No one has complained about the smell of my Indian food. That’s good because if they did, I might file a complaint with HR. After tossing a couple cans of Coke into my backpack, I grab two packs of gum, toss them in, and head to my car.

I bought my Honda Civic used with two hundred thousand miles on it and it runs great except for the AC. It’s a hot South Carolina morning, as usual, and the air conditioning works just enough to keep me from dripping sweat all the way to work. My extra dose of cologne in the mornings backs up my Old Spice deodorant, so I have dual protection. After surviving a summer in Texas, South Carolina summers are a walk in the park.

I crank the four-cylinder engine and turn the AC to the right. It doesn’t budge. I already had it maxed for my Saturday evening date with Chelse. She complained about the heat all the way to the restaurant.

We opted for Mexican. Tex-Mex to be exact, a cuisine I’m well acquainted with and will go back to any day of the week. I ordered chicken fajitas. She ordered chicken tacos. I tried to go through my list of questions to keep the conversation orderly,but she wanted to talk about her job as a retail manager at the mall.

After listening to her ramble on about women’s clothes for half an hour, I kinda zoned out. My eyes glazed over and went south. Chelse thought I was staring at her breasts but, really, I was fantasizing about escaping to my apartment and playing Call of Duty.

When the check came, I paid. She didn’t offer to pay her half. I was fine with that, and because it was only seven thirty, I felt obligated to say, “Do you want to see a movie?”

She frowned. “What’s playing?”

“I don’t know. We could go look.”

“As long as it’s not The Avengers. How many of those dumb movies does the world need?”

On the way to the theater, she told me she’s been going to the gym to work on her six-pack. At one point, she lifted her shirt and tried to show me. I kept my eyes glued to the road and said, “Oh, yeah. Those look great.”

“You didn’t even look.”

My grandma’s words echoed through my head, something about American girls being too high maintenance and that, with an arranged marriage, you don’t have to go through all the dating nonsense.

“I have a tiny waist. You probably haven’t noticed because you’ve been staring at my breasts all night.”

“No, I haven’t.”

“Well, you won’t be seeing them anytime soon. I don’t put out on the first date. Or the second. Or the third.”

“I wasn’t asking you to.”

“Your body language is hinting at it.”

“No, it’s not. I’m just sitting here.”

“Right.”

By then, I wasn’t in the mood to see a movie. Unfortunately, we were at the theater. Chelse wanted to see a post-apocalyptic flick, which I was fully prepared to pay for until she ran to the bathroom and didn’t return until twenty minutes later.

“Take me home,” she said without looking at me, her face pale and sweaty. “And hurry if you don’t want me to poop all over your car.”

And that was that.

Score: 15

I pull out a chair and join Danni and Heng at the conference room table. She opens her laptop and hits a key to wake up the monitor. After entering her PIN, her screen projects onto the wall. Her design document takes up most of the viewing area.

“I know you’ve started working.” Danni glances at me. “Or, at least I think you have. But before you share your status, I want to reiterate that I spent a week writing this design document. We are following the architecture I outlined in this design document. I want our code to be consistent and coherent so a toddler could make sense of it.”

“That’s never happening,” Chance says.

“It could. If you follow this design document.”

“A toddler?”

She arches an eyebrow at me. “Have you worked with junior programmers?”

“Now that’s just mean.”

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