Page 11 of Exes and O's

Yikes. That sucks. You should get a cat.

Grandma Flo makes a tsk sound, severely disappointed with the youth of today. “The Facebook is no way to meet someone.”

I don’t bother to explain that Facebook is not synonymous with the internet writ large. “Tell me about it. But this is how it is now. This is modern dating.”

“So, what you’re saying is, you’re looking for love and you’re finally open to my help?” Grandma Flo’s eyes light up like a Christmas tree. For years, I’ve warded off her offers to set me up with random suitors (including her church friend’s eighteen-year-old grandson).

“So long as they’re in my age category,” I warn.

When she strokes her chin, I expect her to rattle off a laundry list of potentials. But she just shrugs and says, “I don’t know of anyone suitable right now, aside from Ethel’s grandson, Hank. The one who just got out of prison. I’ll survey my girlfriends and get back to you.”

I cringe. You know the dating world is bleak when Grandma Flo can’t even muster up one measly option aside from a convicted felon. “I wish I could just meet the One in a laundromat like Mom and Dad. Or by crashing into each other on bikes like Grandma and Grandpa Chen. Or by reuniting with my childhood sweetheart like you and Martin.” I let out a disgruntled sigh at all the romantic love stories in my family. “Romances like those don’t happen in real life anymore.”

She leans forward to the edge of the couch. “They don’tjust happen, Tara. You have to make them happen. Why don’t you do what I did?”

“Try to date my exes?” I clarify.

“Why not? What better pool to choose from than already vetted men? Of course, leave out the duds,” she advises. “But I remember you dated some fine fellows.”

She’s not wrong. Some of my exes are total catches. They’re all somewhat similar. Generally kind, soft-spoken, good-natured, and trustworthy. The men most women friend-zone, ignoring their potential and understated sex appeal until it’s too late. “You know what, Grandma? This could be a good place to start my search.”

She leans in with yet another slightly disturbing double wink. “I’ll tell you one thing. Men only get better with age. Trust me,second time’s a charm. Maybe you can even find one on time for that Valentine’s Day gala of yours.”

By the time we end our Live Session, there’s an avalanche of comments on our video, most of which are encouraging me to pursue my exes and get a date for Valentine’s Day. In fact, it’s garnered twice as many views as my usual videos.

Maybe Grandma Flo has a point. All the romance books and movies insist true love happens passively. Love, as we’re told, is not something you actively seek out. The best love stories just magically fall into the laps of those who don’t expect or want them.

But what if I don’t want to sit around and wait for potential suitors like a demure flower who’s just come of age? What if I want to take matters into my own hands? To prove romance-book-worthy love still exists?

Inspired, I grab my phone. It’s time to do what I do best.

Internet stalk.

chapter five

WHICH EX SHOULDI reach out to first? My high school sweetheart? My college boyfriends? Don’t forget to let me know in the comments. You can also vote in the poll—”

My video is interrupted by a figure taking up nearly the entire width of my bedroom doorway behind me on camera.

“It’s only six in the morning and you’re already plotting something sinister,” Trevor remarks in a hoarse, early-morning voice. He’s in a plain white T-shirt, which has no business contouring his every muscle the way it does.

I swiftly turn my attention back to the camera, but not before shooting him a stern look over my shoulder. “Sorry. That was my roommate. Anyway, as I was saying, you can vote in the poll in my stories. Bye, everyone!” I wave, hittingEnd.

Trevor is appalled by the state of my room, horror-movie eyes darting from the half-emptied box in my doorway to my bed,where the remainder of its contents are scattered. He gulps when he spots the item behind me. “What the...”

“Behold. My hit list.” I gesture to my masterpiece like it’s a sparkling Cadillac onThe Price Is Right.

Rescuing my old college corkboard from the depths of my storage space, I created an FBI-style link chart of my ex-boyfriends.

TARA’S EX-BOYFRIENDS

Daniel (childhood love)

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