Page 15 of The Boyfriend List
I wonder if his mother knows that. The thought of knowing something about London that she doesn’t gives me a warped sense of victory.
“He—what?” Raina frowns. “I mean, I’m not judging, but why?”
“I don’t know. He’s just always been firm about that. Maybe he’ll meet a woman who also doesn’t want kids and they can live a happy, child-free existence together.” Tears burn in the back of my throat and I swallow them down. “This isn’t what I called you to talk about.”
“Okay. I can tell this is upsetting you.” Her expression morphs to one of concern. “I’m sorry I brought it up. I won’t push the subject, okay?”
“Thanks.” I sniff and drink more matcha. “Anyways, I made a spreadsheet.”
“Why is it every time we talk these days, you’re making really boring things like lists and spreadsheets?”
“Hey, I also made an algorithm.”
“You can’t code, Gloria. How did you make an algorithm?”
“I asked Reggie, the IT guy from work, to do it for me.” I grin.
“Why would you make an algorithm and a spreadsheet? Is this for work?”
“No, Rain, it’s for my dating life. I made a dating spreadsheet.”
“Has anyone ever told you that you’re fantastic at sucking the romance out of life?”
“I’m going to take that as a compliment.” I toss my hair over one shoulder like I’m Pia Wurtzbach walking across the stage at a Miss Universe pageant.
“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but tell me more about your dating spreadsheet and algorithm.”
“I’ve narrowed down a list of men that I matched with on Match, Tinder, and Hinge. From there, I asked Reggie to help me create a bot that filters out men who live with their mothers or put in their profile that they want a girl who ‘doesn’t take herself too seriously.’” I hate that ridiculous phrase. “I also filtered men by profession, age, height, and ethnicity.”
Raina snorts. “Did you also get their dental and criminal records?”
“No. Great idea, though,” I say just to tease her.
She groans. “Gloria, I was just kidding. Please don’t.”
“I won’t. Using my spreadsheet, I’ve ranked the men from most to least eligible based on my list of qualities, and I’ve scheduled three different dates already.” That should be enough to get my mind off London, and how I’m the last woman on Earth he would date.
Okay, maybe not the last. Maybe if we were the only two people left, he would agree that we could have children to repopulate the human race.
Maybe.Like, a 0.00001 percent chance.
Not that I want to have children with London Young. Nope.
“So how many men did you find who seem to fit your dating criteria?”
I check the spreadsheet. It’s colour-coded pink. “Eleven.”
She whistles. “Not bad. When’s your first date?”
“Monday.” That gives me Sunday to get a mani-pedi, do a face mask, and ensure total and utter full-body relaxation before throwing myself into work and the dating scene again. “And if you wanted any more proof that London’s not into me, this dating spreadsheet was his idea.”
“Really. He sat you down and said, ‘Gloria, I think you should make a spreadsheet ranking various men based on how much they fit your boyfriend list.’”
“No! And why does your version of London have a British accent?”
“He’sLondon Boy. Duh.”
“So he didn’texplicitlytell me to make a spreadsheet, or a list. But he told me that since I organize the rest of my life, why not have a dating strategy too?”
