CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

My alarm goes off, and the four of us slowly begin moving around. The sun is barely above the horizon, and the air is calm, cool, and sweet. If I woke up here every day, I’d probably reduce my stress by half.

I take a shower, and when I emerge dressed, my hair is still damp.

Angelo stands close to me. “That hair,” he whispers, “is a huge turn-on.”

“I didn’t bring a shower cap,” I whisper back, “so it’ll be wet tomorrow too.”

He groans under his breath.

I chuckle and casually pat his shoulder. “You’ll be okay.”

Before we walk out the door, Matt texts me my morning compliment: You’re a creative problem solver.

I text back: You’re fantastic at teaching me new things.

During breakfast, Dr. Ezra asks the guys a bit more about their high school experiences together, then he asks me to tell the story of how I met the guys at the speed dating event.

“I’m sure they remember,” I tell him.

“They remember how they met you, but they don’t know your interactions with the other two. I’d like you to tell them your version.”

He hadn’t told me that we would do this, and it takes me a moment to collect myself. “Okay. Well, it was the fourth event Bea had dragged me to. She always did pretty well at those events, but I hadn’t found one guy that I even liked enough to continue talking to him, let alone date him. Bea said she felt different about this one, and…

***

A man’s voice suddenly erupts over the speakers. “Ladies, if you’ll all take your seats, we’ll begin in just a moment.”

Bea, sitting at the table on my right, leans over. “There are some cute guys here tonight, girl.”

“Cute? Really, Bea? Are we in seventh grade again?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Bea says. “I know you’re all about them having a job and bank account, but hard abs and soulful eyes wouldn’t hurt either, ya know.”

I survey the men gathered along the wall, and I do have to admit that this group looks more promising than the last. Speed Dating for Young Professionals certainly attracts a specific type of man: those capable of growing facial hair and wearing creased slacks. No college frat boys or white-haired widowers making the rounds tonight.

“Ladies,” the host interrupts, “the gentlemen have all been assigned a starting table and will join you shortly. You will have three minutes to get to know one another. At the end of the round, the men will move clockwise to the next table. With fifteen pairs tonight, you’ll have quite a selection!

“At the end of the night, fill out your ballot for which men you’re interested in. If you both choose one another, well… you know what happens next.”

Gentle laughter fills the room, but I roll my eyes.

“Gentlemen, please find your table.”

The men scatter, and I watch one of them nervously walk toward me.

“Hi,” he says as he pulls out his chair. “I’m Angelo, and I hate this.”

For some men, this is a pick-up line, but Angelo’s confession seems genuine, and I half-smile. “Hi, I’m Valentina, but everyone calls me Val, and I hate these things too.”

I scan him as he sits down. His Caesar cut is perfect, his skin is practically flawless, and his khakis and polo shirt are pristine.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Angelo says.

“For hating this, you’re certainly dressed for it,” I tell him.

He smiles and raises his eyebrows. “You look good too.” He places his hands on the table. “But actually, I just came from work. This is just my usual look.”

“And that’s my cue,” I say. “What do you do?”

“I’m a real estate agent.”

“Does that bring you joy?”

Angelo cocks his head. “No one has ever asked me that at a speed dating event… I like it, and it pays pretty well. For now, that’s good enough for me.”

“You can get your joy from other things?” I ask.

“I’m pretty easy to please,” he says, “and little things make me happy. I don’t really have to work hard to find joy, you know? Curled up under a blanket, eating popcorn, and watching our favorite show. That’s joy.”

“Thich Nhat Hanh said we should practice joy. What do you think?”

“Maybe that’s what I’m doing right now,” he answers.

“You have sisters?”

“Yeah, two…why?”

“You're smooth,” I say, “but in a way that seems like you know how to talk to women, how to respect them.”

“My mama made it very clear that I was to protect my sisters from dirtbags, and that I was never to treat any woman differently than how I’d expect my sisters to be treated.”

“Then I hope you find someone who treats you just as well.”

He chuckles. “Maybe I have?”

I smile with amusement. “Maybe.”

“Gentlemen, time to switch,” the host announces while ringing a bell.

Angelo sighs, then nods before walking to the next table.

The next four men were insufferable with too much arrogance and liquor. My eyes begin to glaze over until another man sits down and says, “I’m already so tired.”

“Out past your bedtime?” I ask, turning my attention to his tawny eyes. His dark, curly hair is pulled into a messy ponytail, and his appearance borders on disheveled, which I find refreshing.

“Actually, yeah,” he replies. “Even on Fridays, I’m usually in bed by nine. I have to be up early.”

“What do you do?” I ask.

“How disappointed are you going to be if I’m not a lawyer or doctor?”

“As long as you have a job,” I say, “I don’t care what that job is.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

He chortles. “I’m a fourth grade science teacher.”

“That must be so rewarding!”

“It is,” he says. “I mean, it’s exhausting, but definitely rewarding too… What do you do?”

“I am also neither a lawyer nor doctor… I’m a dog groomer.”

He raises his eyebrows. “A dog groomer?”

“What?” I ask defensively. “I’m twenty-six, and I have a job. That makes me a young professional. They didn’t specify which professions.”

“No, no, no,” he says, shaking his hands. “I think it’s great. A real, down-to-earth job.”

“Oh, thank you,” I say much softer.

“Do you like it?”

“I do,” I say. “I get to pamper a lot of dogs from shelters and help them look good to be adopted. I love that part. Plus, I don’t have to interact with humans much. I’ll take conversations with dogs–or almost any other animal–anytime over conversations with humans.”

He leans back. “I’ll take a conversation with a nine-year-old any day over a conversation with an adult.”

“So… we’re both anti-humans. That’s an interesting quality to have in common, especially since… you know you’re going to have to talk to another nine women tonight, right?”

“Yeah… but then it’ll be over, and my friend will leave me alone for a while and stop bringing me along every time he goes to one of these things.”

“I got dragged here too,” I say, gesturing toward Bea.

“Another thing we have in common,” he says. “Maybe that’s a sign.”

“Eh. When you’re looking for signs, almost anything can be.”

“I’m Matt, by the way.”

“Valentina, but everyone calls me Val.”

“Valentina… that’s beautiful.”

The bell rings again, and Matt tilts his head. “I hope I get to talk to you again soon.”

Another eight men rotate in the seat. Three only boast about their accomplishments without asking me a single question. Two have recently broken up with their significant other and talk almost exclusively about the ex. One dismisses me because of her “blue collar” job, and the last two spend most of the time commenting on my hair, eyes, and lips without ever asking about my mind or personality.

Finally, a tall, bald man sits across from me. “I feel like I should say something about saving the best for last,” he says in a deep, baritone voice. “But that would be super cheesy, yes?”

“Yes.”

“Okay then,” he says with a smile. “I’ll start over. I’m Jarel.”

“Valentina, but people call me Val.”

“How have you enjoyed tonight, Val?”

“Honestly? I’m glad it’s almost over.”

“Met anyone interesting?”

I shrug. “Maybe a couple, but how well can you know someone in three minutes?”

“Just have to trust your instinct,” he says.

“What about you? Found anyone?”

“Not really. Once women find out what I do, it’s hard to know if they’re in it for the money or for me.”

“And what is it that you do?” I ask for the fifteenth time.

“I’m a radiologist.”

“I’ve heard that pays well.”

Jarel slowly shakes his head. “Does that impress you?”

“Not really. I don’t care what a man does or how much money he makes as long as he’s financially stable, and I don’t have to pay his bills for him.”

“That’s your bar?” Jarel chuckles. “They can pay their own bills?”

I grin. “That’s my bar.”

“Lady, who have you been dating?”

I genuinely laugh. “You have no idea.”

“Well, I promise you that I can pay my own bills. Plus, my hours aren’t terrible, so I have a decent amount of free time.”

“Good to know,” I say. “Anything else you want to put in the ‘pro’ column of this micro-interview?”

“I often attend charitable events,” he says, “so I’m a pretty good dancer.”

“And if I told you that I didn’t know how to dance?”

“I’d offer to teach you,” he says, holding my gaze.

“Do you want to know what I do?” I ask.

“If you want to tell me.”

“I’m a dog groomer, mostly for animal shelters.”

“Cool,” he says.

“Cool? You don’t care that I’m not my own boss or a high-priced lawyer?”

“Nope. You do you.”

I scan the room. “Compared to some of these guys, you’re pretty mellow.”

He smiles and shrugs. “I’m a slow jazz record. Spontaneous with bursts of energy at times, but typically cool and comforting.”

“How often does that line work?”

“Never used it before,” he says with a simper. “Think I should?”

The bell rings. “And that’s the end of the final round,” the host announces.

“It was lovely talking to you, Valentina. I hope we reconnect soon.”

I nod slightly. “We’ll see.”

The men return to standing in a group, and Bea scoots her seat close to mine.

“So?” Bea asks excitedly. “What did you think?”

“Better than the last couple of events for sure.”

Bea opens the Speed Date Now app on her phone. “Okay, so which ones did you like? I’m not gonna pick any of your picks,” she says. “Give you a fair shot.”

I roll my eyes and open the app. “I’m going with numbers one, six, and fifteen.”

“The teacher, really?” Bea asks.

“What’s wrong with a teacher?”

“Nerd alert,” she teases.

“Oh, yeah? And who do you like?”

“Psh. Girl, I’m going for the football player, the surgeon, the physical trainer, and the chiropractor.”

“So… money and abs.”

Bea slaps my shoulder. “You make me sound shallow.”

“I mean…”

“I work hard to look good. I want a guy who does that same,” she says. “Is that too much to ask?”

“You do you,” I say.

“Hopefully, I’ll be doing someone else.”

I laugh. “Yeah, yeah.”

We enter our choices, and a checkmark appears on the screen. “You will be notified of your matches within 24 hours,” I read aloud.

“Gotta make sure the rejects don’t go crazy from hurt feelings,” Bea says. “Get them out of the building first.”

I lock eyes with Angelo, then look away. “We’ll see.”

***

“Thank you for telling us,” Dr. Ezra says. “It’s interesting that your best friend was more skeptical of Matt.”

“Bea’s never been particularly drawn to scientists, or intellectuals in general I guess.”

“Does she still think he’s a nerd?”

“Oh, definitely.”

“Does she still dislike Matt?”

“No. She’s come around on all the guys.”

“Who has she spent the most time with?”

I hesitate. “Jarel.”

I have everyone’s attention, but Jarel looks concerned.

“Because of the Damon situation?” Dr. Ezra clarifies.

I swallow. “Yes.”

He nods. “So, guys, how did you feel about Val’s story, about knowing why she was initially attracted to you?”

“It’s weird,” Angelo says.

“Why?”

“I don’t know… It’s weird thinking about her with other guys.”

“Matt? Jarel?” Dr. Ezra prompts.

Matt nods. “I agree.”

“I don’t care,” says Jarel.

“And why is that?” Dr. Ezra asks.

“Because what she and I have is different from what she has with Angelo or Matt, just like it’s different from what I’ve had in the past.”

“Interesting,” Dr. Ezra says. “You don’t see it as a competition?”

“No. Val can make her own choices, and I’m happy that she continues to choose to spend time with me.”

“Even if you have to share her?”

“Even if,” Jarel says.

“Well then,” Dr. Ezra says. “I think I know where the difficulties lie. Let’s get started.”