Page 7 of Is She Really Going Out with Him?
“Really?” Jonathan looks skeptical, then checks his watch. This gives me an uneasy feeling that we’re nearing the end of our allotted meeting time. “You’re a good journalist, Anna. You have a talent for finding stories no one else sees, your interviews are always well researched, beautifully written”—he pauses—“but writing a column is a more personal undertaking, it’s a different kind of journalism. Maybe your time would be better allocated elsewhere.”
I shake my head. If I lose my column, I’ll be first out the door when they start making redundancies. “Jonathan, please, give me a chance.”
Jonathan looks down, and I realize I’m now leaning acrossthe desk and tugging on his sleeve like a pleading child. As I let go, he closes his eyes, resigned. “One week—write a fresh and original column about dating, or I’m giving it to Will,” Jonathan says, rubbing one eye with the heel of his hand. He looks exhausted.
“Yes, I will, I promise. Thank you, thank you!” I turn to go before he can change his mind.
“Anna,” Jonathan calls after me, and when I turn back, I see compassion in his eyes. “I know it’s tough, getting out there again. But if you can be honest, vulnerable, I think our readers will relate to the challenge of looking for love again after heartbreak, to being on the wrong side of thirty-five and leaping back into the dating pool without the life preservers of youth and optimism.”
“ ‘The wrong side of thirty-five’? Who decided there was a right side and a wrong side?” I ask with a frown.
“That’s the spirit,” he says, clapping his hands. “Write that.”
Back at my desk, I pull up the draft layout for my article about the art exhibition. I see immediately that Will is right. The pictures are too static, too empty; I’ve prioritized the art over the event and the space looks dead. I’m going to have to change it. Damn.As I’m clicking through the photos of the event, a subtle blend of sandalwood, pine cones, and freshly ironed linen puts my senses on high alert.
“I’m sorry about the column, Appleby,” Will’s voice comes from behind me.
“Your sources are inaccurate, Havers,” I say without turning around. “Jonathan’s excited about the new direction I pitched for my column.”
I swivel my chair around now, unable to resist. There it is. So fleeting, anyone else might miss it, but I see the pulsing muscle in his jaw, the fractional slip in that cocksure grin. He’s disappointed.
“New direction?” he asks.
“Yup,” I say breezily. “I’m going to write a dating column, something fun and aspirational.”
Will raises an eyebrow at me, with a hint of a grin.Why is he grinning?“You have some real dates lined up to write about? Not Roman Roy fromSuccession? Though I do so enjoy reading about your TV crushes.”
Leaning on the edge, Will picks up a pen from my desk and starts clicking and unclicking it. He flashes what I imagine he thinks is a charming smile, but it makes me want to stab him in the hand with that pen. All the younger women in the office may fawn and giggle over Will, but his charms don’t work on me.
“Don’t you have work to do?” I ask with a sigh. “Menus to peruse, calories to count, cutlery to critique?” I say, flapping a hand at him as though he’s a giant fly.
“Just know that if dating’s too much pressure for you, I’m more than ready to turn my ten-inch column into twenty,” Will says, running a hand through his thick brown hair.
“I don’t think anyone needs more inches from you, Havers.”
We lock eyes. If I blush now, he’ll know that innuendo wasn’t intentional.Do not blush, do not even blink. In my head, I count slowly to ten, holding his gaze, channeling my inner iceberg. He looks away before I get to five.Ha. I win.I know, I know, I am a grown woman behaving like a child, but this is what he reduces me to.
“My approval rating says otherwise,” Will says, putting the pen back down.
“I’m sure you were popular when you were writing forTeen Girlmagazine, butBath Livingis for grown-ups. I don’t think fifteen-year-old girls are buying it.”
His face falls, and I savor the moment. I’ve been saving that one for just the right opportunity. I did some digging into Will’s CV. He claims to have worked at Publishing Global from 2019 to2021, but a little detective work revealed he was actually employed by a subsidiary magazine,Teen Girl. I pulled a few old editions and found an excellent advice page he authored entitled “How to Talk to Boys.”
Will clears his throat.I got to him. I finally got to him.
“Well, if you’re ever stuck for dating venues, I get twenty percent off at the Townhouse. Just mention my name to the maître d’,” Will says, standing up and turning to walk back to his desk.What, no comeback?I start to doubt myself.Was that too mean?But I don’t have time to worry about Will’s feelings. I need to come up with a real date to write about and I need to do it fast. Taking a deep breath, I open my phone and search “dating apps.”
Google searches:
Fresh and original dating ideas
Least scary dating apps
Is it worth watching the American version of The Office if I’ve seen the British one?
Chapter 3
I soon realize I can’tdo this alone. Something as simple as filling in an online dating profile is beyond me; I don’t know where to start or even which app to choose. With a pang of alarm, I realize I am thirty-eight and have never dated. I had a boyfriend at secondary school, Tim, then there was Andrew in my first year at Bristol uni, then I met Dan. All three were friends first, so I’ve never been on a date with someone I didn’t already know. The idea of trying to “sell myself” in an online profile makes me cringe. Reluctantly, I cross the office to talk to Steph and Kelly, two colleagues in their twenties who work in sales. If anyone knows about dating apps, they will.
