Page 20 of All I Desire

Truthfully, I’m not sure if I really want to go at all. Now that I’ve met Matthew.

I’d made the date with Jordan, tonight’s guy, days before the beach photo shoot. How was I to know I’d have an electric connection with a total stranger? Isn’t that the universe’s way of telling me I should cancel tonight’s date? Somehow, it doesn’t seem right to make out with Matthew on Sunday and have dinner with Jordan on Wednesday— all while thinking about dinner with Matthew on Friday.

The group discussion soon turns to bad dates, and now everyone’s cracking up, telling stories from their days of singledom.

“I once rushed out of the house to meet my date and was hit by a car,” says sixty-something Ms. Richards. Everyone gasps. “I was just bruised on the leg, so we went on to the movies. But here’s the kicker. My date made me pay for both tickets!”

The group screeches in laughter.

“Once,” Mrs. Myers says, holding up a hand, “back when I was playing the field, I was out with a gentleman in Manhattan. We were walking down the street and he was quite agitated. Then he sprinted off. I ran after him.”

“That was your first mistake,” I crack.

“Exactly. When I caught up with him, he told me that he was wanted by the cops for dealing dope. He was later arrested and sent to Rikers.”

“Dodged a bullet there,” comments Mrs. Richards.

“I’ve got one,” I say. “Well, I’ve got many. But once I met a guy on Tinder and I showed up to dinner. He had no teeth. Like none. Toothless as a baby.”

“Was he elderly and forgot to put his dentures in?” Ma asks. “I don’t think you ever told me about him.”

“I did. And no. He was my age. I think he’d had a tangle with the meth pipe.”

“Oh dear,” says Mrs. Meyer. “What about tonight’s man? Where did you meet him?”

I sigh. “I met tonight’s guy on Tinder. He seems nice. Works on the mainland as an environmental engineer. He’s coming over to have dinner at the Square Grouper.”

“Make sure to order the chargrilled oysters, so delicious,” pipes up Mrs. Richards.

“So, what’s the problem? Sounds lovely,” says Mrs. Meyer.

“I made the date with him early last week. Then Sunday I met the other guy. The beach guy.”

“The one she kissed during the photo shoot,” Ma points out helpfully.

“Thanks, Ma,” I say.

“And so? You’re not marrying him, are you?” Mrs. Richards demands. She’s always been a little bossy.

“No. No! I mean, we’re seeing each other Friday night. That’s all.”

“Well, what if he doesn’t show up?” one of the women, a newcomer, chimes in.

Good point. I’ve been ghosted by past dates…

“I think you should keep your options open, especially because of his status. And your preferences.” Ma gives me a pointed look.

“What status?” asks Mrs. Meyer. “Is he a convicted felon? Not yet divorced?”

I roll my eyes. This was a terrible idea, getting this gang involved in my personal life. “He’s divorced. He’s also a single dad.”

“What have you got against single dads?” Mrs. Richards asks.

“Nothing. I just…I don’t know if I like kids. Not sure if I want them. What if I don’t like his daughter? What if she doesn’t like me?”

“Dear, you’re not going to be her mother,” Ma points out.

“I know, but…won’t there be complications if we start to date?”

---