Page 89 of My Sweet Dollie, You Have to Love Me
“You’re not trying to set me up with one of your cousins, right?”
“God, no. Have you seen my cousins? They aren’t fit for swamp ogres. They’re lazy and visually unappealing.”
“So, what did you do?”
“I may have set you up on a dating app.”
“What? Why?”
“To keep you amused when you start to feel lonely. Trust me, it helps.”
“Annabelle, the last thing I want right now is attention from men.”
“You sure, because you’re getting quite a lot.”
“I don’t get attention. My own fiancé would rather give it to someone else.”
“Then take a look and get yourself a worthy man.”
The new app sits on my screen, calling attention to it with its big pink speech bubble heart.
“MateMatch? Sounds like some kind of Fairy thing, and no, I haven’t tried those books yet that you post all over your socials.”
“Oh, you should. I tell you, no man is good enough for me because I’m in love with a made-up Male called Cassian.”
“I don’t know who that is.”
“That’s fine. I feel like you’d be a Rhys girl anyway. We just gotta find you your Rhys. And who knows, he could be on the app. Give it a try. I mean, it’s not like I put you on Bone and Groan.”
“I don’t even wanna know what Bone and Groan is.”
“My friend Toni recommended it. Honestly, I worry about her sometimes. More so, after seeing that app.”
A small smile hikes up my lips.
I click open the app to an inbox full of topless men.
“God, this one guy is older than your dad.” And Annabelle’s dad is old.
“Okay, so ignore that one. No point in giving him false hope. He might get excited and have a heart attack.”
Taking a seat at Annabelle’s side, we check out the guys together. The desperation that clings to so many of them is like sweat on their almost naked bodies.
Three of the five messages I’ve clicked so far have all hinted at hook-ups, and that’s their opener.
I close them and delete their conversations without replying.
“Is Bone and Groan worse than this?”
“Well, not for the guys, I guess. At least over there, they have some chance of getting laid.” That snorting laughter comes again. “What about him?”
Unlike every other guy, the guy she points to leaves everything to the imagination.
“He doesn’t even have a picture. And speaking of, do I?”
I click off the message from the guy with the standard little stick man photo and move across the icons with a swipe of my finger to my homepage.
A sigh slips through my lips. Annabelle chose a tagged photo from my social media that I despise.
