I watched my two best friends exchange smirky little smiles again.
Were they finally going to admit that they were dating?
“Well, come on then. Spill those guts,” I teased, sloshing the ice around in my drink with a straw. I could already feel a smidge of heartburn rising from my stomach.
“We sort of … well, we did a thing. For your birthday, Ivy,” Pam grimaced.
“Oh?” I said, slightly disappointed.
I’m not a fan of gifts or big displays of affection.
Jerry and Pam knew that better than anyone.
Jerry took out his shiny black Android, flashed another knowing smile at Pam, then set his phone down on the table. He clicked the home button and slid it across the table toward me.
I stared at the screen and blinked. My own face peered back at me.
“What is this?”
I recognized the picture: me, in a slim-fitting cocktail dress, cleavage propped up more than usual. Pam had taken the photo at last year’s Christmas party; it was one of those rare pictures that turned out well only because I wasn’t trying too hard to smile, or to get the right angle. She’d sent it to me last year, encouraging me to use it as my profile pic on Facebook. I had considered it, but ultimately, decided not to. I looked too carefree and silly in the photo.
“Scroll down.” Jerry tapped his pointer finger on the table, excitedly. He looked all too pleased with himself.
A flicker of irritation rolled through me.
What the hell had they gone and done now?
I did what he said and scrolled.
Ivy, 30, from Madison, Indiana
Likes: camping trips, boating, scary movies, thriller novels
“Camping? Thriller novels? What the hell is this, guys? And you put my age down as 30! Why?” I was laughing, but my face felt hot.
My best friends set me up a dating profile! It doesn’t get more pathetic than that…
“You can change it up any way you’d like. It’s not live yet, so don’t be mad. We just thought it’d be good for you, ya know? You’re kind and funny, not to mention smoking hot … and you deserve to have some fun,” Pam gushed. She scanned my face, waiting for my approval.
“You guys suck, you know that?” I covered my face with my hands, rubbing them up and down.
“Here’s the log-in information and password. You can change anything you’d like. We added some more stuff about you, too … and there are two more pictures on there.” Jerry passed me a yellow sticky note with the words IvyGirl807 and 35818 written on it in his sloppy scrawl.
I snatched the note up and jammed it inside the purse on the stool beside me.
Our waitress had reappeared, this time with a steaming white plate of mussels.
“Ooh, that’s a great picture of you,” she crooned, wiggling her brows at the photo displayed on Jerry’s phone.
My cheeks flushed and I flipped the phone over on the table.
“Thanks,” I said, quietly.
“There are so many attractive guys on there. And girls too! Promise me you’ll check it out,” Pam whined, slamming back her second beer and shouting after the waitress for a third.
“I will,” I lied, fingers grasping one of the mussel shells. “So, how was your day off?” I tried to change the subject, uncomfortable with this intense focus on me and my lackluster love life.
I sucked the flesh from the shell while Pam told Jerry and me about her two intakes at the shelter today—an abused labrador and a lost Balinese kitten. She had been volunteering at the local animal shelter every Friday and Saturday for years now, and though she was one of those people who viewed animals as children, she never brought any home with her from work.
Oh, how nice it would be to have a sassy pup instead of a rabid teen in my house…
I was grateful to have a change in topic. I listened to my friends talk, but I didn’t hear much of what they said because I was slightly irritated about the whole dating site thing.
Who the fuck do they think they are setting that up without asking me? Am I that desperate in their eyes?
I tried to imagine the conversation that must have taken place between them when they decided to set it up. Pam saying, ‘Poor Ivy. You know what she really needs for her birthday? A man!’
Pam was single too, but she dated regularly, either guys she met on dating sites or blokes she met in bars. Unlike me, she had never been married.
I was also still worried about Delaney and Samantha. I checked my phone for the hundredth time but Michael had not responded to my texts.
Surely, if Delaney needed me, she would get a hold of me, I assured myself.
“Helloooo,” Jerry said, breaking into my thoughts with the snap of his fingers.
“What?” I snapped. “Sorry. Just thinking about Delaney again…”
“Well, we’re trying to get your mind off that. Where should we go next? You’re the birthday girl, you decide.”
“Next?” I took a sip of my drink. By now, the amaretto sour was lukewarm, and the mussels were swishing around in my belly. All I wanted to do was go back home and fall asleep early.
Damn, maybe I am getting old.
“Yeah, I thought we could go out to a club. There are some new ones that just opened over in Kentucky. Maybe have some more drinks, do a little dancing like the old days? And before you say no, don’t worry. Jerry will be the DD if we need him,” Pam pleaded.
The words “no” and “I’m tired” floated on the tip of my tongue. And they wouldn’t have been a lie – I was tired. And stressed out.
I want to go home, crawl into bed, and sleep.
But my mind wandered back to the dating profile, that giddy, carefree version of me in that profile pic. And my friends, so desperate to see me dating again. Maybe it wasn’t a terrible idea, but it still
