Page 37 of My Merry Mistake
“—to go. But I can make it up to you. Maybe an extra date next week. I can have my?—”
“Assistant reach out,” I say, finishing the sentence at the same time he does. I smile. “That’s fine with me, but it’s okay if it doesn’t happen next week. I’m buried at work too.”
He smiles. He has a nice smile, but something about it doesn’t quite feel genuine.
My first trial date at the coffee shop with Justin had gone well. I’d give it a solid B.
We talked about work and our frustrations with dating. I explained that I’m not looking for anything out of the ordinary.I just want someone to make functions more bearable—but also, it’s more than that. More than just a perpetual plus-one. I’m looking for someone to share my life with—just not romantically.
It felt risky to say it out loud, but Justin seemed to understand.
Tonight, we met at the restaurant after work for our second “date” this week. The plan is to spend this trial period getting to know each other, to see if our goals align. But regardless, he’s agreed to come to Thanksgiving dinner with me, which is maybe more of a relief than it should be—it gets really old showing up to all these holiday events by myself.
So far, we seem like we could work together.
It’s not the “wrong way” to date, I tell myself. It’s just a different way. A new way. Or maybe a really old way.
“We’ll get something on the books, I’m sure.” He waves to the waiter and makes a writing motion to indicate we’re ready for the check. Then, he turns his attention back to me. “One more thing, Raya, if you don’t mind me asking?—”
I lean back. “Of course.”
“What happens—” He seems to be considering something— “if you fall in love with someone for real?”
“Or if you do,” I say, reminding him that if we do this, we’re in it together.
“Oh, I don’t think I’m made for romantic love,” he says, flatly. “I’ve tried it a few times. It doesn’t work for me. I like your approach much better. No feelings, just clear expectations. I don’t want to be put upon to fabricate emotions when, frankly, I don’t have many, and the ones I do have I’m not sure what to do with.”
“I have emotions,” I say. “I just—have distracting ones.” And ones I don’t want to have.
He nods, thoughtfully. “Hmm. So, thereisa chance you’ll fall in love. It’s not that you’re incapable.”
“I’mchoosingnot to,” I correct. “I don’t want to fall in love. It never ends well.”
I think about Rich. I have no interest in going through that again.
A cordial, respectful partnership can bring me all the things I want and need. And I can’t be certain, but Justin might be the perfect person to fill that role.
“I think we need to have an out clause,” he says. “Because even though I don’t have the need for love and romance, you might.”
I start to argue, but he holds up a silencing hand.
“I know, I know, you’re choosing not to. But if this is going to have any chance of working the way you want, we need to put it on the table,” he says, addressing all of our expectations.
At that, I nod because it makes sense. “You’re right.”
“So, if in the future you decide that maybe this isn’t what you want after all, we’ll part ways with no hard feelings.”
“And the same goes for you,” I say.
He drums his fingers on the table. “I like you, Raya.”
I check my stomach for butterflies and again, nope. All cocooned.
“I think you’re smart and beautiful, and I could see this working out very nicely.” He tilts his head and looks at me. “But I don’t think you’re quite as emotionally closed-off as you want to be.”
“I am,” I say, firmly. “You’ll see.”
The waiter returns with our check. Justin hands over his credit card and I Venmo him the money for my half. That’s the deal. Fifty-fifty across the board.
