“Ugh, shit.” The words fall from my lips as I trip over the cushion left on the floor with all the grace of a stumbling hippopotamus. Okay, maybe that last glass of wine wasn’t the smartest idea I’ve ever had. As I pull myself up I search for my kindle and sigh in relief as I spot it safe on the couch. I reach down and pick it up as I make my way to my bedroom, ready to curl up and enjoy my latest book boyfriend and this wine buzz I have going on.
After getting ready for bed I am snug and settled, devouring the filthy words on the screen with the enthusiasm of someone who has clearly not enjoyed any sexy times in a ridiculously long while. As my eyes eat up the words, my hand unconsciously smooths its way down my body, seeking relief from the tension pulsing in my core. As my fingers slide through the wetness, I groan softly. Grazing my clit lightly, a shiver escapes me. I am so worked up it’s only a matter of minutes before my teasing fingertips have worked their magic and I am moaning my release.
I sigh as I roll over thinking how too many of my nights are ending this way. I’ve almost forgotten what it feels like to have an actual guy touch me, and frankly, I’m ready to give myself the “it’s not you, it’s me speech”. I think about the advice my best friend Cassidy gave me the other day; online dating. I mean there’s no shame in it these days, right? We’re all busy, it’s a perfectly respectable way to meet people. And it works. I’ve seen the testimonials and surely, they wouldn’t lie. Right?
While I still retain a bit of liquid courage, courtesy of all the wine I drank tonight, I grab my phone and google “most successful dating sites”. It would seem Happily Ever After is the site of choice for all the despera... I mean, hopeful singles out there. I stifle a laugh at the name. I’m not looking for a happily ever after. Just a happily ever orgasm. So, before I lose my nerve I pull up the website and click on the ‘create an account’ button. Ten minutes later, I have completed my profile and set it loose into the online dating world. My smiling face gazes out at me from the phone screen and I can’t help looking at myself with pity. A sense of dread settles in my stomach as I send out a silent prayer to the dick-pic gods. Please no delfies. Or, you know, at least make them dicks worthy of my admiration. Oh god, what have I done?
BEEEEEP.
I sigh quietly as I reach to open the microwave and pull out the dinner for one as Cassidy continues her rant in my ear. “Seriously, Skye, I’m not sure how much longer I can stay there. The work is boring as fuck and the people are even worse! How can I be expected to work under those conditions? I’m not getting any sleep at night because I’m falling asleep out of boredom every day!”
I try to hold in a giggle as I listen to Cassidy complain about her job in office administration. Unfortunately, the result is an unattractive snort-giggle that alerts her to my mirth. “Well, I’m glad you find my pain so funny, loser!” she shrieks, and I can feel her glowering through the phone, which causes me to lose any pretence and I burst out laughing.
“It’s work, Cass, it’s not supposed to be fun. It’s just the eight hours we have to get through every day to get to the fun stuff.”
“Speaking of the fun stuff, you wanna go out tonight? Cocktails and tapas?” The change in Cassidy’s voice is immediate and if I didn’t know her so well, would be slightly disconcerting. But after ten years of friendship I am used to her swift mood changes and at times like this, I am grateful for them. Her work diatribes are becoming a daily occurrence.
“I would but I’ve got myself a hot date tonight. Ben and I agreed to chat at 8 o’clock.” I listen as Cassidy whoops loudly on the other end of the phone, mumbles something about sexting and starts to sing “bow chika wow wow.”
I roll my eyes at her outburst but I can’t help the smile that spreads across my face. Cass is my opposite in every way. The yin to my yang, the Scary Spice to my Baby Spice. She is the dark to my light and I couldn’t imagine my life without her. She has also seen me despair over the long list of less than desirable men that have replied to my online profile, and encouraged me to persevere. Cassidy claimed the answer to my sex drought was only a click away, and don’t think she didn’t proclaim her triumph loudly when Ben Mackinnon appeared in my Happily Ever After mailbox. Sexy as hell and, if his messages are anything to go by, sweet, smart and funny; he ticked all my boxes and then some. And I’m not going to lie; the fact that he didn’t send me a dick pic within the first ten minutes had definitely worked in his favor.
“Okay, okay, okay, enough!” I laugh as I cut Cassidy off mid-chika. “I have fifteen minutes to scarf down this meal before it’s B-time so I’ve got to go. I’ll talk to you tomorrow, okay?”
“B-time? Really? I sincerely worry about your cool cred sometimes, you nerd. But that’s a topic for another day. Later, Skyballs, and remember, two hands on your phone at all times, young lady!”
I groan as Cassidy hangs up on me and I place my phone on the kitchen counter. Tucking a strand of my long brown hair behind my ear, I pick up my fork and dig into my lean cuisine. After a quick glance at the clock I see it’s ten minutes to eight, and feel the butterflies start. Truth be told, I’m completely out of practice with this whole dating thing. My list of exes did nothing to change my mind and convince me that a happily ever after was in my future, and I had forgotten about this complex mix of excitement and fear which left you unsure if you were giddy or nauseous!
Placing my dishes in the dishwasher, I move to the couch and settle in for what I hope will be a long chat. Because chatting to Ben has become the highlight of my day, and while I probably should, I feel absolutely no shame in admitting that. The last month talking to him has been fun and easy; I find myself almost craving the contact with him. He has tried to convince me to meet him in person a handful of times but I’ve resisted. There is safety in where we are now, in the protection that the phone screen affords me. I started this online thing to find someone to have fun with. Someone who can scratch my metaphorical itch anytime it tingles, but the longer I talk to Ben, the more I can see myself falling for him and I can’t let that happen. My head understands this but as my phone dings and my heart begins to pound, it’s clear that my heart might not be on the same page. Ugh, someone needs to give me a stern talking to. I am a twenty-eight-year-old grown woman, not a giddy, giggling preteen. Then again, I haven’t gotten laid in a while so I give myself a pass.
BEN: You there, beautiful?
SKYE: Yep. How was your day?
Riveting, I know. Have I mentioned I’m out of practice?
BEN: Good, busy. One of the systems crashed so we spent the day trying to clean up that shit storm. I hope yours was better?
SKYE: I’m not even going to pretend to understand the computer stuff lol but it sounds like a rough day, so I’m sorry. I almost feel bad telling you that I had a fantastic day, I got a promotion!
As happy as I was about the promotion, it was bittersweet. My boss, Juliet, had informed me that she wanted to take a step back from running Books & Beans, the bookstore slash coffee shop that she owned. So, she was promoting me to manager, and while I was incredibly excited about the chance to have more responsibility, and my mind was bursting with ideas, I was also slightly terrified at the prospect of failing.
BEN: That’s incredible news! We have to celebrate. What about dinner on Friday night?
My hand freezes over the phone keyboard. I’m not ready for this, it’s too soon. I mean, I know that realistically it stopped being too soon about two weeks ago (according to Cassidy “Bow Chika Wow Wow” Jensen, anyway) but I’m not sure I’m ready to take that next step yet. My phone vibrates in my hand, bringing my gaze back to the screen.
BEN: Baby, I’m sorry, I have to go, work just called and they need me back there. I’ll make some reservations for Friday and get back to you, okay? I’m really happy for you.
Well shit. I guess I’m meeting Ben.