- Lucy -
ou’re going to love the raspberry lemonade,” I told Fiona as she sat down. “As soon as I tasted it, I knew I had to bring you here.”
“Well, I hope the food’s good, too, cause I’m starving,” she said, looking around the crowded outdoor patio and staring down other people’s plates.
“This many people can’t be wrong, right?”
“I suppose. It’s got four stars on Yelp anyway.”
I rolled my eyes. I shouldn’t have been surprised that she checked. Her sense of adventure extended about as far as three and a half stars on Yelp.
She slipped a skinny menu out from between the salt and pepper and opened it. “How’d you find this place?”
“The guy I had lunch with last week took me here.”
She looked up at me. “The guy you hooked up with?”
“Yeah.”
“Are you sure you’re not just trying to run into him again?”
I laughed. “Quite the opposite. But even if I did, it wouldn’t be weird. That ship has sailed, and we were totally on the same page.”
“Was he any good?” she asked, looking back down at her menu.
I shrugged. “I’d give him a three and a half on Yelp.”
She smiled. “I like it when you speak my language.”
“I recommend the pulled pork wrap. I’d have slept with the guy just for introducing me to it.”
“Sold,” she said.
A young boy approached the table. He must’ve been at least sixteen, but he didn’t look a day over twelve. “Are you ladies ready to order?”
“Yes,” I said. “We’ll have two pulled pork wraps and two raspberry lemonades please.”
“And a basket of hand cut chips,” Fiona added.
The boy took a moment to practice his penmanship before looking up from his notepad. “Coming right up.”
I turned to Fiona. “You just had to get the chips, didn’t you?”
“I think I have some kind of deficiency, like I need salt to live.”
“We all need salt to live.”
“But I need it in excess.”
“Maybe you should get that checked out.”
“I did,” she said. “The doctor told me to eat more chips.”
I shook my head. “You must’ve dreamt that.”
“Speaking of dreams, did the guy who brought you here give you the feeling?”
“No, but I never get the feeling.”
“No butterflies? No stomach dropping out from under you?”
I shook my head. “It was purely physical. Like painting by numbers, ya know? Satisfyingly predictable but completely forgettable.”
She sighed. “Where have all the cowboys gone?”
“Maybe they all died in the nineties along with that song.”
“Maybe.” She pulled out her phone. “I guess I was just hoping you’d have some good news for me. I’m kind of nervous about meeting this guy I got matched up with.”
“Let’s see him,” I said, reaching for her phone. A beautiful blue eyed boy toy stared back at me in head to toe green. He was holding a glass shoe filled with green beer. “He’s adorable.”
“And totally my type, right?”
“Lookswise.”
“Plus, I love St. Patrick’s Day, too.”
“Let’s hope that’s not the only thing you have in common.”
“Anyway, he seems really sweet so far- not sleazy at all- and it’s been a while since I… ya know?”
“Well if I got lucky and broke my dry spell, I don’t see why you shouldn’t get lucky, too.” I handed the phone back to her. “Especially if this guy has the luck of the Irish on his side.”
“Fingers crossed.”
“But you know better than to get your hopes up before a Tinder date, Fi. You’re just setting yourself up to get hurt that way.”
“I know.” She looked at the guy one last time and slipped her phone in her purse. “I guess I’m just getting kind of sick of this whole scene.”
“What scene?”
She shrugged. “The Tinder scene.”
“Oh?”
“Like it was a great novelty in the beginning, and it made it so easy to meet new people, but now it feels so cheap.”
“I know what you mean.”
“I don’t know how to describe it. It’s like now that I’ve been using it for a while, I’ve started to feel like people are more… disposable. Does that make sense?”
“It does.”
“I mean, I actually swipe people who aren’t even in my phone, like people on the sidewalk even.”
“I know. I’ve caught you doing it a few times. Your eyes give you away.”
“It’s like no one in my world is safe from being swiped. It’s ridiculous.”
“It’s not like we’re gonna be on it forever.”
“But how long is too long?” she asked. “It’s actually gotten to the point where I’ll check the app while I’m on dates if the guy goes to the bathroom or something.”
“They’re probably up to the same shit.”
The boy came back with our drinks and we thanked him.
“Right?” She scooted her lemonade towards her. “It’s starting to feel really unhealthy, though, like I’ve forgotten how to enjoy the moment cause I’m always looking for the next thing.”
“You and everybody else.”
“And what’s the point of even trying to enjoy the moment if I know the person I’m with is thinking about whether or not the next girl he meets will be easier or better company or prettier or-”
“I know,” I said. “I couldn’t agree more.”
“On the other hand, if I’ve had a shitty day, nothing boosts my spirits like left swiping a bunch of people.”
I lifted my lemonade. “At least it’s a cheaper form of therapy than online shopping.”
“Is it though?” she asked. “I mean, financially it is, but there’s still a cost.”
I tilted my head. “What? You mean spiritually?”
She nodded.
I didn’t know what to say, but I could tell she was getting a little worked up. “Don’t worry. I’m sure Blondie will be the perfect guy for you, and you’ll never have to worry about swiping anyone again.”
“Thanks, Luce. I hope you’re right.”
“I’m going to go to the bathroom before our food arrives. If you must take out your phone and do some swiping while I’m away, I promise I won’t be offended or accuse you of not enjoying the moment.”
She sighed. “Make it quick. If I meet the guy of my dreams while you’re in there, I won’t be out here when you get back.”
“Fair enough,” I said.
As I weaved through the inside tables towards the bathroom, I couldn’t help but think about Fiona’s concerns. However, in our defense, it wasn’t easy to meet eligible straight guys in our line of work. Plus, most of our friends were artsy types and we both craved the company of classic meat and potato guys. What choice did we have to meet people outside our social circle but to do so online?
I decided when I went back outside I would tell her she shouldn’t feel bad, that we were only doing what it took to survive and compete and mate in this day and age, and that the only reason our souls were resisting it was because we were the transitional generation. In ten years’ time, all of the uncomfortable things we were up to with technology will have been completely embraced by the subsequent generation and not awkward at all.
But when I stepped back on to the patio it was everything I could do to keep my jaw from unhinging itself entirely.
I hung my head and hurried to my seat. As soon as I sat down, I put my elbows on the table and my hands up like blinders to shield my face.
“Are you okay?” Fiona asked, furrowing her immaculately shaped brows. “Did something happen in the bathroom?”
I shook my head.
“Seriously, you’ve gone even paler than you normally are, like you’ve seen a ghost or something.”
“No,” I said. “Not a ghost.”
“What then?”
“Brad’s here.”
“Who’s Brad?”
“The guy who brought me here in the first place.”
“Oh.” She started to turn her head-
“Don’t!” I said. “Don’t look yet.”
“Why? I thought you said it would be fine if you ran into him.”
I took a deep breath. “It’s not him. It’s who he’s with.”
“What?”
I lowered my head enough to take a sip of my lemonade. “The girl he’s with- I know her.”
Fiona cocked her head. “And if she sees you, you’ll turn to stone?”
“Something like that.”
“Lucy, you’re being ridiculous. Tell me what’s going on right now.”
“Okay, but I need you to check that I’m not imagining things.”
“Okaay.”
“There’s a guy in a white and navy striped t-shirt over there.”
Fiona pretended to stretch her back and looked over her shoulder. “I see him.”
“His hair is thick with mousse.”
“Yeah, it’s him alright. He’s not bad, Luce. I’m impressed.”
“Is he or is he not with a thin blond girl?”
“Yeah, but she’s not facing me. Oh wait, she’s getting up now-” Fiona gasped, covering her mouth with her hands as she turned back towards me.
“I’m not crazy, am I?”
“Oh, you’re crazy,” she said. “But you’re not wrong.”