Page 3 of My Grumpy Sweetheart
This was really fun, but… shouldn’t I be looking at questionnaires and profiles instead of answering questions? I mean, I was going to bid on someone; I didn’t want to enter as someoneotherscould put a bid on.
“There,” I said when a notification finally popped up on my screen informing me that I’d answered all the questions. Next, the auction site opened, and there they were. The questionnaires.
A smile tugged at my lips as I started scrolling.
These looked like tamer versions of the regular profiles, less nudity that bordered on dick pics. Mind you, most people still didn’t have pictures of their faces up and there were plenty of abs to look at, but all in all it seemed a bit less hookup and more dating.
I liked it.
And I really liked the questionnaires. Especially the fun questions, though I wasn’t sure if I should choose Petey-with-a-y because he preferred Lord of the Rings over Star Wars like I did or Will-I-69 because he didn’t, and the arguments could be fun.
I reached for my bowl of microwave popcorn, placed it next to me on the couch, and grabbed a handful. Salty, buttery goodness hit my tongue, and I let out a little sigh.
In the end, I closed both profiles and kept scrolling. There were so many options available… how would I ever be able to choose one?
Abs, smiley face, abs, abs, smiley face, axe murderer, abs, smiley… Wait a minute! I scrolled back up, frowning at my display as I saw the photo I’d just scrolled past. There he was, the glaring axe murderer in all his hipster-lumberjack glory. He was even sporting the iconic flannel shirt! Damn… I bet he’d look really nice if he’d smile. But he didn’t. He looked into the camera like he wanted to kill someone — probably with the axe he had casually draped over his shoulder.
Seriously, who thought it was a great idea to use a picture of themselves holding an axe as a profile picture for a dating site that wasn’t calledDate a serial killer?
Still, I found myself weirdly fascinated by his profile. He’d definitely managed to get my attention. And, to be honest, I was interested in what kind of guy was hiding behind his frowny face.
Huh.
I chuckled, shaking my head.
Attention.
Interest.
Was that guy in marketing?
Did he try to use the AIDA model to sell himself?
If so… I was even more intrigued.
My logical brain tried to tell me I’d probably get myself killed if I actually won a date with him, but the fascinated part of me won out, so I started browsing through his questionnaire and photos.
The profile was… weird, especially his pictures. I had to admit, the frowny axe-holding picture really was the best of the bunch. The others all looked like they used to be group pictures and he’d just badly cropped the other people out of the photo… like, there was a picture of him with a random arm slung over his shoulder and the top of someone’s head partially in front of his thigh like said person had been sitting and leaning against him when the picture had been taken.
Shaking my head, I exited the photo gallery and closed the profile.
I’d just scored a promotion, so I didn’t want to be the first victim of what would be known as the Carousel Killer, thank you very much.
Oh! My promotion!
A quick glance at my phone’s clock told me it was late enough to give Parker a call to tell him about my exciting news. He’d know what a big deal it was. After all, he’d worked at Greenfield Publishing, too, before he’d decided to open up his own marketing firm.
Hitting the call button, I prayed for him to answer because I’d literally die if I couldn’t tell someone soon.
After what felt like an eternity, I was ready to hang up when the ringtone was replaced by a sleepy, kind of raspy voice.
“Hello?”
“Guess what!” I told him while bouncing on my couch, my smile returning to my face.
“Uhm… Bailey?” Damn, he sounded like he’d been asleep. I checked my phone, but it was only a little past eight, not his usual bedtime at all.
“Yeah. Of course it’s me. Now guess what!”
