Page 7 of Sweeter Than Fiction

One, I hate confrontation.

Two, I doubt this guy could absorb a single word that I would say.

And three, I don’t want to do anything to prolong this experience. I’m beyond ready for it to be over.

The mere thought of sitting on my own, knitting, and watching Gilmore Girls can get me through the next half an hour.

And that’s exactly what I think about when Justin starts mansplaining why the city’s football team needs to trade their quarterback.

After what feels like an eternity, the waitress finally brings the check. Justin looks at it and sighs…as though I had any input at all in what was ordered.

Deciding to mess his fragile ego a little, I say, “If you need me to pay for mine because you don’t have enough money, it’s no problem. I know you’re not working.”

Immediately, his whole demeanor changes. Puffing his chest out, he spits, “Uh, no. I don’t need you to do that. I’ll pay.”

On the way back to my apartment, he tells me all about the car he’s driving. Meanwhile, I just think about why the fuck this guy with no real need for a car has one in New York City. He lets slip that he’s been staying on his buddy’s couch, and I resist the urge to tell him if he sold his souped-up car, he may have more money for his own place.

But yet again, I opt to keep my mouth shut.

When he pulls up to the curb outside my apartment, he asks, “So, should I find a place to park?”

“Why?”

“Don’t you want me to come upstairs?” He looks even more confused than I do.

“Uhm. No, I don’t think so. I’m pretty wiped.”

“You’re kidding me, right?”

Oh, no. I’ve poked at his toxic masculinity.

“No?”

“I paid for your dinner, and you’re not even going to offer to make it up to me?”

Is that a thing?

He doesn’t give me a chance to answer before completely losing his shit. “You know when I was set up on this date, I looked you up on social media, and I thought of canceling because you definitely weren’t my type. You know—a nerd. But I decided to throw you a bone because lord knows, you probably won’t find any better. Now, the plain-looking nerd won’t even put out? I guess you can just go upstairs…alone…probably to your cats. I can definitely see why a loser like you is still single.”

Okay, that’s enough.

Quickly, I unlock the door and step out. As I walk inside, I feel like I’m in complete and total shock. Is this really how dating is now? If so, I don’t feel like I’ve been missing out on a damn thing. I would be okay with never having this experience again.

Ever.

I’d rather die an old spinster with my cats than listen to a man talk down to me like that.

I know Justin is just a jerk, but am I really that much of a loser? Was anything that he said true?

All these thoughts run through my head as I make my way to the mailbox. Might as well grab it before I go upstairs.

I try to push all my tears and emotions down at least until I get into my apartment. Taking deep breaths, I try my best to keep ahold of myself.

As I’m sliding the key into my mailbox, I feel a large presence come up beside me.

A deep voice says, “Well, you look nice.”

Immediately, I know it’s Don. He’s so large and commands attention, yet he’s always beyond nice.

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