“I’m sorry. It’s not you, it’s just that…” My date trailed off, and I nodded in understanding. I should have called off the date when she walked into the restaurant and her face registered disbelief. She would have left if I hadn’t seen her, but our eyes had connected and she felt compelled to stay.

I should have said something to her, let her know she didn’t have to stay, but everything had been awkward. Our conversations on the phone had been easygoing, though I had reserved myself in order not to have too much hope. I was glad I had, although I had to say, I was still a bit disappointed.

She wasn’t exactly beautiful, just average, which was the reason I had chosen her. I was thinking at the time that if I selected a woman who wasn’t extremely attractive, it might be easier for her to accept me and my imperfections. I was wrong.

“It’s fine,” I told her and mustered a smile. “Thanks for coming.”

“Thanks for inviting me,” she said as she stood, slipping the gold strap of her bag over her shoulder. She pushed under her chair and stepped back, looking uncomfortable. “Good night, then.”

“Have a good night.”

My fake smile fell as soon as she left. Totally useless. As soon as I arrived home, I was going to cancel my membership to the site even though I’d paid for the year in advance. I didn’t get as many likes nor messages from women because of the lack of picture on my profile, and women I contacted mostly didn’t respond. I expected this since people automatically would assume the lack of photo meant I wasn’t physically appealing. In this case I had to admit it was true.

I signaled to the waitress to bring my tab, and she returned a few minutes later. I had taken great care to choose a nice restaurant for dinner, nothing over the top, so she would understand I was wealthy. I had no intention of letting any of these women know I was a billionaire. Not up front anyway. She had to pass the appearance test – not hers, mine. She must be able to communicate with me without focusing on my scars. A woman who could do that would be worth every penny I had. Unfortunately, I was beginning to think that type of woman didn’t exist.

I collected my credit card from the waitress, who wished me a good night before I left the restaurant with my head down. Most people didn’t notice the scars depending on the angle of my head. Women who only saw the right side of my face flirted from a distance, and as soon as they drew near, they made a detour.

Outside the restaurant, I was waiting for the valet to bring around my car when I saw my date still standing outside. The way she had been trying to make a hasty retreat, not even making it through the main course, I’d expect her to be in Timbuktu by now. Her whole demeanor depicted frustration. Common sense told me she didn’t want to be bothered by me and to leave her alone, but I was a gentleman and couldn’t leave her without making sure nothing was wrong.

I stepped in her direction as the valet drove the car towards me. “Melinda, are you okay?” I asked, coming to a stop beside her. “You seem a little distressed.”

She turned to me and glanced around us nervously. “Um yes, I’m fine. Just waiting for a cab.”

“I can drop you somewhere if you’d like,” I volunteered, although I expected a resounding no.

“Mr. Armstrong, sir, your car,” the valet announced and tossed me the keys to my blue Bugatti. I caught it with ease before turning back to Melinda to get her response.

“That’s your car?” she asked in surprise.

“Yes,” I answered, thinking the next date I was on, I would have to borrow Greg’s high school car he’d kept.

She stared at the car, turned to me with thought, and her lips curved in a smile. I prayed the disgust didn’t show in my eyes. I was losing hope fast in women. Were they all this shallow? Or was I magnet for the shallow ones?

“I guess you could give me a ride home,” she answered and moved towards the vehicle.

“I just bet you do,” I whispered, and she glanced up to ask me what I said. “Just said it won’t be a problem,” I lied and opened the passenger door for her. After she was seated, I closed the door and walked around the car to take the driver’s seat. I knew the direction this night was going.

“What’s your address?” I asked her and was grateful it was in the same direction I was heading with a slight turn off that would still drop me back onto the main road.

To avoid the awkward conversation, I turned the music on, ensured it had nothing to do with romance, and drove her home. At her apartment building, I parked but before I could alight the vehicle to help her out, she reached across the seat to touch my upper thigh.

“Seth,” she purred, “maybe I was a little hasty earlier, you know. I think it was the nerves, meeting you for the first time, and I panicked. How about we go on a second date?”

“Okay, you have my number,” I replied disingenuously, knowing I was going to block her as soon as I got home. “Call me when you think of something we can do.”

She sighed with relief and stretched across the console to drop a kiss on the good side of my face. I smiled in amusement, wondering if she would have done the same if my other side had been presented to her.

I walked her just inside her apartment building and declined her invitation for a night cap. She apologized again for turning me down earlier, and after reassuring her I was fine, I headed back to my car. My phone was lit up when I slid into the seat and closed the door. I drew the pattern to open it and read the message she had sent me.

I’m in apartment 406 if you’re interested.

“Unbelievable,” I muttered and blocked her before driving off. I dialed Greg’s number and was about to hang up when he answered.

“Hey, what’s up?”

“The date was a bust,” I told him, defeated. “She only became interested after she saw the Bug. I’m done, man. As soon as I get home, I’m unsubscribing from Secretz.”

“No!” he exclaimed. “You can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Come on, this is just the first date. Look, I’m coming over and we can go through the list of girls again. Maybe some of my luck will rub off on you.”

I chuckled. “Not even you can help me, Greg. If I get there before you do, I am unsubscribing and deleting the app from my phone and saying good riddance.”

“I’ll be there!”

He was waiting for me inside the lobby when I arrived and parked the car. I had given him security clearance to access the building since it belonged to me. A high rise with luxury condos, the one on the top floor belonging to me.

“What exactly happened on the date?” Greg asked when we walked into my condo. He made his way to the wet bar and poured us both a glass of scotch.

“Just as predicted,” I said with a shrug. “She took one look at me and decided Frankenstein is so last century. Then she saw my car and I dropped her home. She texted me her apartment number.”

“Then good riddance. She wouldn’t have suited.”

“Or I didn’t suit. I never suit anyone.”

“Stop talking out of your ass, man. Go get the laptop.”

I retrieved the laptop, handing it to him before I decided I was going to change out of my dinner clothes. I was sure he would end up with nothing just as I had, but at least when he tried and realized what I was saying, he would give it a rest.

I had to think of other things to occupy my mind and time. In a world where imperfection seemed to be almost criminal, it would be great if a woman came along who would accept me, but if she didn’t, there was no reason I couldn’t live a full life. I tried to convince myself of this but drove myself deeper into despair.

Dressed in silk pajamas, I strolled to the wet bar where Greg was still sitting, the decanter of scotch looking dangerously low.

“Aren’t you supposed to be driving home?” I asked, confiscating the decanter and replacing it on the shelf.

“Gonna take more than just a couple glasses to lay me flat,” he replied and beckoned me toward him. “Come on, I’ve given you a head start. I think I’ve found a woman who may not be so vain. I sent her a hi, and she responded. Get a load of her heading.”

I peered over his shoulder at the heading, but the first thing I noticed was the absence of a photo. I skipped over the avatar she had chosen and read her heading. Each user had to come up with a header that best described himself or herself. Hers read: I believe the imperfect can be just…perfect.

My heart skipped a beat at the heading, and I wished she had posted a picture so I could see her. A lot could be gained from looking at a person, but her page was as dry as mine. I noticed she had just joined two days ago.

“I don’t know,” I mumbled in uncertainty. “She doesn’t have a picture up. How do I know what she looks like?”

“Really?” Greg scoffed at me. “How about I ask her for a photo?”

“No!” I protested loudly. “If you do that, she’ll want one of me.”

“Look, I’m going to go because I left my date at home just to get over here and stop you from giving up after one failure.” He slid off the bar stool. “Don’t screw it up. Sometimes you have to go through several different women and meet them to find the right one. Chat this one up and see where it leads. Look at her profile. I think you’ll like her. She’s into all that committed crap you’re into.”

“Commitment is not crap simply because you prefer the opposite!” I yelled at him as he strolled from the kitchen to let himself out.

When he was gone, I checked the profile of the woman with the interesting headline. I noticed she rated herself as average in physical appearance, which was okay by me. She was an administrative assistant and a Scorpio, which, according to the site, was a perfect match for me as a Capricorn. I didn’t believe in zodiac signs, but at least something suggested we would be a perfect match.

Reading her profile took me a while, but I went through every bit of detail she provided. My interest was caught by the way she gave specific answers, but what stood out was her brief description of herself.

I’m a twenty-six-year-old administrative assistant who lives a quiet life. When I’m not working, I hang out with a friend or stay home and binge on Netflix. I enjoy watching the re-runs of old TV shows such as ‘The Andy Griffith Show,’ but occasionally I like going out for dinner at a nice restaurant. I am not looking for a hookup. I want someone I can share a life with and build a home with. Of course, I know this takes time, so I’m also looking for someone who is patient and doesn’t mind talking and getting to know each other before anything serious can happen. That’s all for now. If you wish to know more, just send me a message.

Intrigued because she didn’t seem frivolous by reading her ‘About Me’ section, I realized Greg had already said hi and asked her how she was. She had responded fifteen minutes ago asking me how I was as well and I hadn’t replied. My fingers flew over the computer keyboard.

-Sorry about that. I was busy re-reading your profile, and I must say I am intrigued.

I held my breath, waiting to see if she would respond. I’d been through this with a woman and knew the first twenty-four hours were crucial. I couldn’t say hi and just go to bed. I was relieved when the input box stated she was typing.

-Hah, I was wondering. I thought I’d scared off the first guy who decided I was worth talking to even without a profile pic.

-I don’t have one either, so I can’t hold it against you.

-There are some things worth more than pictures.

-Like what?

-Family, love, trust, friendship… the things money can’t buy.

I paused in responding then, wondering if she was for real. I told myself to calm down but carried the laptop to my bedroom so I could get comfortable while I chatted with her.

-Those are valuable, yes. I agreed with her.

-By the way, I’m Robyn.

Robyn. I said her name over and over in my head and decided I liked it. I was even more curious about what this woman looked like. I debated whether to give my real name before deciding what the heck. There were several Seths in Seattle. I plumped my pillows behind my back, creating a support.

-Robyn, nice to meet you. I’m Seth.