Page 23 of Dating Goals
“And he doesn’t know a soul here except me,” James adds. “It would be a friendly gesture, really.”
“We were thinking dinner here, very casual,” Ivy says. “No pressure, just…meeting someone new.”
I stare at my oldest friend, trying to process how we arrived at this moment. Her feeling she needs to rescue me from my singlehood.
Oh the shame!
“I’m not looking for anyone right now,” I say finally, the words coming out more defensive than intended. “The pub keeps me busy enough.”
I shift uncomfortably in my chair as Ivy and James exchange another one of those married-people looks. I hate those looks.
“It’s just dinner,” Ivy presses, leaning forward. “If you don’t like him, no harm done.”
“He really is a nice guy,” James adds. “Loves the outdoors, very down-to-earth. Nothing like those finance bros Maja’s always trying to set you up with.”
I take another sip of tea to buy myself time. How do I explain this without sounding like a complete failure at life? I’m twenty-five years old, and I’ve never been on a proper date. Not one.
“I’m just…not good at that sort of thing,” I finally mutter, staring into my mug.
“What sort of thing?” Ivy asks, genuinely confused.
“Dating.” The word feels foreign in my mouth. “I wouldn’t know what to do or say. It would be a disaster.”
There’s a beat of silence, and I can feel their surprise without looking up.
“Wait,” Ivy says slowly. “When was your last date? I don’t think you’ve mentioned anyone since…Actually, have you dated anyone since my wedding?”
Heat creeps up my neck. “Not exactly.”
“Not exactly as in…?” James prompts.
“As in never,” I blurt out. “I’ve never been on a date. I’ve never had a boyfriend. I just…never got around to it.”
Ivy’s eyebrows shoot up. “Never? But what about that ski instructor? The one from St. Moritz?”
“We had drinks with a group after lessons. It wasn’t a date.”
“And the bartender from Zürich ? The one with the tattoos?”
“We exchanged numbers, but I never called him.” I twist my fingers in my lap. “The pub needed new plumbing that month, and by the time things settled down, it felt too late.”
Ivy and James exchange glances again.
“It’s not that weird,” I say defensively. “Some people focus on other things.”
Ivy sets her tea down. “Oh, Anika.”
“Don’t ‘oh Anika’ me,” I say, suddenly irritated. “Not everyone’s life follows the same timeline. I run a business. I own property. I’m doing fine.”
“Of course you are,” James says quickly. “But don’t you get…lonely?”
The question hits harder than I expect. Do I? Most nights, I’m too exhausted to think about it. I fall into bed after closing, sometimes still smelling of beer, and sleep until it’s time to do inventory or place orders. The days blur together in a rhythm of work that leaves little room for reflection.
“I have the pub,” I say. “I have customers I see every day. Old Herr Ziegler, who comes in for his afternoon beer. The hiking guides who stop in after tours. The seasonal workers who become regulars for a few months before moving on.”
Like certain hockey players…
But even as I say it, I realize these aren’t real relationships. They’re transactions wrapped in pleasantries. No one asks how I’m really doing beyond the polite “Wie geht’s?”
