Page 1 of Certified Heartthrob

Prologue

Mark

First dates. They make everyone nervous. Usually. But I sat waiting at the bar, sipping my drink and snacking on some nuts, cool as a cucumber. Because I already knew how it would end.

“Mark?”

I spun around on my stool to see a thin, timid-looking blonde I recognized from her profile pictures.

“That’s me. And...I’m sorry...what was your name again?”

Her face instantly dropped. “You don’t remember my name?” She frowned.

“Online dating.” I shrugged. “You know how it goes.”

She tried to muster up another polite smile and shake it off. But still, I knew it was strike one.

“Daphne,” she said, reaching out to shake my hand. She pivoted as our hands met, awkwardly trying to decide if one of us should go in for a hug instead.

“I’m sorry.” She laughed, blushing. “I never know what’s better...to hug or to shake hands.”

“You kidding me? Definitely to shake hands,” I scoffed condescendingly. “I don’t know why dating makes us think we should be cool with hugging total strangers...which would be absurd in any other scenario. Anyway, should we head to the table?”

She seemed reluctant, since my last remark was teetering on strike two. But it was amazing what people could talk themselves into looking past on their quest for “true love.”

“Sure,” she decided finally, rekindling her smile a second time.

As we settled into our seats, I waited for the obligatory interview portion of the evening to begin. While passively scanning the menu, she asked, “So, Mark. What is it that you do?”

“Well...I do lots of things, to tell you the truth. But mostly...a lot of this,” I told her.

Her brow furrowed. “This? You mean...eating out?”

“With women, on dates, yes.” I nodded.

She cringed for a moment, but then laughed. “I know what you mean. Dating can be so time consuming. Sometimes it feels like it’s all I do, too.”

The waitress, our saving grace, came by at just the perfect moment. It was time to go in for the kill. My record time for sabotaging a date was ten minutes, and if I hurried...I might stand a chance at just barely beating it.

I leaned in too close, eyeing the waitress's name tag which was conveniently placed over her right breast. “Sandra, is it?”

She smiled wide. “Yes, Sandra.”

“Honey, could you bring me a glass of your top-shelf bourbon? The most expensive thing you’ve got. And a water for my friend here...uh, what was it again?”

Daphne’s face went into full-on demon mode. If a person could murder you with their eyes, I would have been dead right then and there. But just as her lips parted, I called out to Sandra again.

“Oh, and, hon...why don’t you go ahead and scribble your number down on the napkin you bring back with my drink? Thanks.” I winked.

Sandra giggled and ran off, leaving me to face Daphne’s death glare. She threw her napkin down over the menu and started to stand up. “Un-fucking-believable. You still can’t remember my name...and you just asked the waitress for her number!”

“Oh, boy. Here we go,” I murmured. “Yes, and I can see how, if you were hoping to find ‘the one’ or whatever here tonight, that would all be in bad taste. But...let’s just be honest with each other. I’m not the one. No one is the one. Dating is the biggest time and money suck ever created by our capitalist system. Marriage and kids, too, for that matter. It’s all a part of the American Dream scam that just doesn’t exist anymore.”

“Are you fucking crazy!?” she shrieked, drawing the attention of other nearby patrons. Which was fine. It probably gave all the bored couples sitting around the most excitement they’d get out of tonight. For the first time in who knows how long, they’d actually have something to talk about.

“No, quite sane actually. More so now that I’ve accepted the truth about all of this. And if you’d care to sit back down and let me regale you with the same truth...you’ll feel a lot better when you do go storming out of here.”

Her bottom lip pursed, but finally she plopped back down into the seat. A male waiter returned this time, with a stern look on his face, delivering two glasses of bourbon instead of one.

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