Page 25 of 28 Dates

Caitlin

You have the prettiest eyes I’ve ever seen.

I can’t stop the grin that splits my face as the message pops up on my phone.

I’m considering keeping this app forever and not even dating through it. The compliments I receive daily, cliché as they may be, totally make it worthwhile.

I’m a half second away from swiping left at this message because I am sooverthe day and this stupid dating app, except for constantly being told I’m pretty. Right as I’m about to, though, Jonas pops into my head.

Tall and sexy and always so darn nice: Jonas’s offer of a movie, so I wouldn’t be spending tonight alone, has had me thinking of him all day, unable to shakewhyhis offer to come over tonight almost made me feel worse than being lied to by Isaac.

The reality is that his offer says it all. To him, I’m just a friend he wanted to cheer up after a bad day.

I should be grateful, right? This is what I wanted with him. Unfortunately, that offer didn’t come with his typical salacious smirk or the hand on my cheek I came to love so much when we were ending up in bed before the first scenes of a movie started.

It’s been six months since I’ve been with a guy and to this day, every time I take matters into my hand—literally—it’s still Jonas I see as I climax. That must end. I’m hung up on a guy who wants something more than I can give, and because he deserves everything he wants, I have to close that chapter. Not only that, but there’s obviously been enough signals for me to recognize the fact that he’s just not that into me.

While PerfectMatch might be an epic fail so far, that doesn’t meanthisguy will be. I’m aware enough to realize there are good, decent men in the world. I’m best friends with two of the best of them, Trey and Corbin.

So instead of swiping left and erasing this guy, Logan, from my phone screen and tossing my phone to the table, I click the icon to reply.

That’s very sweet. Thank you.I like your picture too. Play lacrosse often?

It’s a shot of him from the waist up, his lacrosse stick and helmet in one hand and his other propped on his waist. His white shirt is skintight, showing off the ridges of his abs beneath, and his light brown hair is messy like he’s just ripped off the helmet. It’s messy and cute. He might be looking into the sun because he’s squinting, and his smile? It looks like he’s fighting back a roaring laugh.

Logan:Sister took it before a match last summer. You like lacrosse?

His reply comes so quickly, I’m surprised. Surely he can’t be sitting around at seven on a Monday with nothing to do but check his dating app.

Although that’s what I’m doing.

Caitlin:My knowledge of lacrosse involves sticks, balls, and scoring.

I whack my phone against my forehead. Dummy. This isn’t a hookup app, and I’ve forgotten my filter again. If this guy gets the wrong idea, this fail is solely on me.

Logan:I feel like there’s innuendo in there that as a gentleman and a guy with sisters who wouldn’t want a stranger being inappropriate with them online, I’m going to ignore. Although I’m also laughing, so don’t think I have that stick shoved anywhere.

I bark out a laugh so loud I surprise myself. This is almost too sweet. Let’s hope he’s genuine. A rush of relief falls from my lips, and I quickly type.

Caitlin:My apologies. I’ve been told I lack a filter. But truly, I’m more of a football fan. I take it you’re close with your sisters?

Logan:Parents worked a lot and I was around. They’re younger, but yeah, we’re close. You?

And just like that, we leave the innuendo forgotten, and for the next hour, I talk to Logan. I tell him I’m a single child with two parents who worked a lot and that I always wished for a sibling. He sends me more pics when I ask, giving me at least hope he’s not lying to me about who he is. Bonus: When I ask for pics, none of them include his dick.

We talk about his job at an architectural firm, where he’s in advertising and promotions, not design and building, which is sort of a bummer. There’s something about this jock-like, all-American boy, sitting behind a desk with reading glasses, building a prototype of the next great skyscraper, that is attractive.

I tell him about my work with Trey in the tech field, letting him know he’s a good friend. I long ago learned that men don’t think men can be friends with women without emotions or a dick getting involved at least once, and he seems to take it in stride.

Hours go by while we text back and forth. So many in fact that my television screen goes blank and a message pops up.

Yes, Netflix. I’m still here.I click the remote to resume my show even though I’m not paying attention.

Like me, Logan says he’s a born and raised Portlander and thinks studying history is capable of producing comas.

I tease him about being more of a dog person than a cat person when he confesses he has a kitten named Snickers, even though that alone is the cutest thing in the world.

And just when I think he’s going to ask to get together, he shows signs of needing to sign off by saying, Busy day tomorrow at work. Talk more tomorrow night?

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