The Magnolia Chronicles: Adventures in Modern Dating(8)

"All right, whatever," he mumbled as he stood. He pulled his coat on and shoved his hands into leather gloves. "Clearly, your loss."

"I'm sorry," I said, laughing. "What was that?"

"You should be sorry." He didn't bother looking at me. "You wasted my fucking time."

I pushed to my feet and crossed my arms over my chest. "Oh, really? That's how it is now? Because I'm not interested in having sex with you at eight in the morning after you've delivered the weather report and sports highlights? Or after you did lines of Splenda?"

"Not sure what you expected from this," he replied, "but that app is only for hooking up and your tits are all over your profile. If you're not down to fuck, you're sending all the wrong signals. You don't have to be a bitch about it."

For the record, my tits were properly contained. A girl couldn't wear turtlenecks every day but that didn't mean her tits had gone rogue. Nor was I being a bitch about anything.

But more importantly—"Who has a hookup on a Wednesday morning? That's just bizarre."

It was bizarre, and one of the many issues with the machinations of modern dating. Relationships weren't part of the program. It was fucking, not feelings, not forever.

In a strange sense, that was liberating. If I wanted to get some dick, there was plenty of it coming my way. I didn't have to pretend I was looking for anything more than one night—or morning, as it was—and I didn't have to go through a handful of nice, polite outings before getting some.

All of that was great. Truly. It was phenomenal that I could catch a different dick every day of the week and not think twice about it.

But I wasn't in the market for dick. Or, I should say, not only dick. I wanted the man connected to that piece, and I wanted that man to be one of the good ones.

Five-Cup Joe here—he wasn't one of the good ones. Not for me. Somewhere out there was a jittery gal who shotgunned espresso and liked to bone down right after, and I was certain he'd find her. Godspeed to them both.

He snickered as he stepped away from the table. "I'll Venmo you for the coffee."

Shaking my head, I shoved my hand into my bag. "It was tea and here's five bucks. That covers it. Delete my number."

He pocketed the cash without meeting my gaze. "No problem."

I was almost content to let him go. Almost.

"Wait a minute." He glanced back at me, his scowl deep and impatient. "Why didn't you just order a larger coffee? Why five mediums?"

Not asked but also implied: Why are you like this?

His lips twisted into a reluctant smile. "I wanted the barista's number," he yelled across the shop. "I don't even like coffee."

I turned around, physically separating myself from him with the wall of my back. Even if none of this mattered, it still chipped away at me.

I glanced down at the table and the ruins of cups and Splenda packets. I debated leaving it all there because I wasn't about to Donna Reed this shit. But I couldn't do that. It defied coffee shop law and I wasn't about to disrupt the order of urban life by leaving a mess behind.

With a long sigh, I disposed of his trash and my unfinished latte. Once I was bundled up in my coat and scarf, I swung by the shop counter and gestured to the lone female barista.

"Don't worry," she called over the hiss of the milk steamer. "I gave him a fake number."

"Oh," I murmured. Had we been that loud? Or that obvious? "Thanks. I guess."

"No sweat," she yelled as she finished the order. "Can I make something new for you? Didn't seem like you were feeling that latte."

I stared up at the menu board. "Yeah," I said, nodding as I found my indulgence of choice. Earl Grey didn't make me sophisticated. I could be mainstream caramel and offer no apologies on the matter. "A caramel macchiato. Iced."

"You got it." I held out some bills, but she waved me off. "This one is on us," she said, nodding toward the other baristas. "Pablo live-tweeted the whole thing. It's the least we can do for you after providing us with enough entertainment to get through the morning rush."

I laughed to myself as I stepped away from the counter but a not insignificant part of me wilted. I didn't want to be part of this joke anymore. I wanted to find that good, honest, real man and I wanted to find him soon. I couldn't endure this social experiment for eight more months.





Chapter Five





Dating App Guy 5: Do you ever wonder about the Munchkins from The Wizard of Oz and the Oompa Loompas from Charlie and the Chocolate Factory?

Dating App Guy 5: Did they all live together because they were short in stature or were they short in stature because they lived together? Was it a recessive gene that turned into a dominant gene because they were either a small, isolated population or inbreeding?

Magnolia: Not sure. I've never considered it before.

Dating App Guy 5: That's cool. I like thinking about wild shit.

Dating App Guy 5: And pegging. I like getting bent over and plowed with a blue dildo the size of my arm.

Magnolia: Fascinating segue.

Dating App Guy 5: Would you tie me to a table and fuck me?

{ blocked }





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