by Callie Cole
Dating Confessions
Callie Cole
Dating Confessions© 2020 by Callie Cole
All Rights Reserved.
Editor: Kasi Alexander
Cover Design: Sarah Kil Creative Studio
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Created with Vellum
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Epilogue
About the Author
Also by Callie Cole
Chapter 1
Tilly
I can take just about anything, but when I’m sitting across from my date, and he has something coming out of his nose, I look for the nearest exit.
He knows I’m distracted and looks around as if the problem is somewhere other than his face. I decide there’s no point in being delicate.
“You have something coming out of your nose.”
He grabs his napkin and brings it to his face. Standing to leave, he mumbles something. His mouth covered by the napkin, I think he just excused himself and plans to head straight to the men’s room or out of the building. Either way works for me.
While he’s away, I try to figure out what I’m going to say to Cassandra. Cassandra is our office manager. I only agreed to this date because several people have told me how she should run a matchmaking business. She's so good at putting the right people together that two of the couples she introduced married within a year of their first date.
Either those people have set the bar pretty low, or Cassandra secretly doesn’t like me.
Unfortunately, my date isn’t going anywhere. Smiling, Jared walks toward our table and apologizes.
“Sorry about that.”
I lie. “No, it’s fine; life happens.”
It’s a well-known fact that people typically put their best foot forward when they first meet. If this is his best foot, I’m not sticking around.
My date doesn’t wait to speak, even though he’s got a mouth full of food. He shoves another piece of steak into his mouth and asks, “So where were we?”
“You were telling me about your stamp collection.”
Still chewing, he says, “Oh, right. Well, I’ve been collecting them ever since I was a kid. I probably will continue doing that for the rest of my life. It’s a pretty exciting hobby. Most people think it’s boring, but it isn’t.” He swallows. “For instance, did you know that both Queen Elizabeth and John Lennon were stamp collectors?”
I have an overwhelming desire to stick a fork in my eye, but I just smile and nod my head in excitement as if he just told me that People magazine’s Sexiest Man Alive—pick any year—was here in the restaurant and would like to fuck me on top of this table.
“Wow. I didn’t know that.”
“Do you have any hobbies, Tilly?”
I try to think of something that gives me genuine pleasure and realize that sex with my vibrator won’t qualify as an actual hobby. I pretend I’m thinking.
“No. I guess I’m too busy between work and…”
I don’t finish my sentence. I let the words just hang in the air. I know I’m talking, but it feels like I’ve stopped listening to myself. I can’t think about anything except what I can do to speed up the remaining time on this date.
Ten minutes of dialogue that I won’t ever remember continues, and I wait for my opportunity to move things along.
“Would you care for dessert?”
“No. Thank you.”
I’m not sure, but I might have answered too quickly. Not eating dessert means we get out of here sooner rather than later. My saving grace is that we met at the restaurant, both of us having driven here separately. I’m almost giddy with the thought that this disaster will be over as soon as we step outside.
We finally get our check, and I don’t wait for him to pull out my chair. I’ve got this. I walk to the front door, trying not to sprint. No need to be rude; I turn and extend my hand.
“It was nice to meet you, Jared.”
He wants to say something more than goodbye, but gives up. A defeated look on his face pulls at my heart.
Stay strong, Tilly. The last guy that made you feel this way got three more dates that you paid for and fifty dollars because he needed the money.
Remembering my mother complaining how I would take home every stray cat in the neighborhood, I pull my shoulders back and stay resolved to get this over with. If he cries, I swear I’ll slap his face. Like in the movie Moonstruck, I’ll have to yell, “Get over it!”
“Nice to meet you, too, Tilly.”
I turn first. It’s the only way.
Hoping he doesn’t continue to talk, I walk as fast as I can to my car, grateful it’s on the other side of the parking lot.
I don’t think I’ll mention this one on the podcast. There’d be too much sympathy for him, and I’ll come off looking like a heartless asshole.
I guess I could have told him the podcast was my hobby, but something tells me he’d start asking questions, and he probably wouldn’t like my answers.
I run a dating podcast for women only. It’s not my full-time job, except it takes up so much of my time it feels like it is. I started it two years ago, a year after being left at the altar by my ex.
I know what you’re thinking. A bitterly scorned woman starts a man-hating podcast to bash men and talk about what assholes they are all because she got dumped on her wedding day.
While it’s true, some of our discussions may encourage a negative thing or two about the guys we’ve met; I like to think of the podcast as a service to women. Something that helps them to not feel alone in their experiences with dating.
I am always shocked to hear someone’s crazy story, only to have another woman say the very same thing happened to her. It’s a jungle out there, ladies, and we need to stick together.
I pick up my cell phone and send a text to Maura and Lexi.
Dive. 10 minutes?
Both respond within five seconds of each other. Dive is our favorite place to hang out, and I need some girl time right now.
I smile, knowing my girls will jump at the chance to meet up for drinks. Always ready at a moment’s notice, the three of us have each other’s back twenty-four-seven. These are the women who know everything about me and who I would trust with my life.
Getting together with my besties for drinks means the night won’t be a total waste. To push my annoyance with Cassandra aside, I can at least consider tonight date research. It doesn’t change the fact that I would have rather spent the time in my PJs with a glass of wine and my nose stuck in a book. No matter.
I search in my bag for my notebook. I do a quick rundown of the date and note that this one won’t be included on the podcast. Putting the notebook back in my bag, I start the car and head toward Dive. I’m going to have fun tonight and forget the sad look on my date’s face as we left the restaurant. In time, I’m sure he’ll meet the right woman. They say there’s someone for everyone, even Jared.
Chapter 2
Jack
I’ve got about
five minutes before I get up and leave. Tonight is the second date with Gemma, and I’m not sure there will be a third.
The woman has been late for both dates, and when I say late, I mean at least thirty minutes. I’m getting the impression she’s not that interested, and honestly, I’d be happy if she blew me off completely.
Why a second date, you might ask? Well, I’m a fair-minded guy. The first date wasn’t a disaster, and my brother is the one who set us up. I’m giving this one another try, but if she doesn’t get here soon, I’m out of here.
She comes into the restaurant like a tornado. Out of breath and frantic, she apologizes for being late. “I’m so sorry. I had a client come in at the last minute, and I couldn’t get him out of my office. Have you been waiting long?”
I try not to seem annoyed. “No, not too long.”
I catch the server’s attention. Turning to Gemma, I ask what she’d like to drink.
“A glass of chardonnay, please.”
Just finishing my scotch and water, I lift my glass. “I’ll have another.”
The kiss of death on a date is awkward silence. With Gemma, I don’t think that will be a problem. I’ll be lucky if I can get a word in. Mostly, I listen.
“Work has been insane lately. It seems everyone is getting divorced. I’ve had so many new clients this week alone. This guy tonight really pissed me off.
Seems he thinks he’s entitled to a shitload of money from his wife. She’s worked her ass off for years to get where she is in her professional life, and that’s after she stayed at home taking care of the kids so he could get his degree and climb the corporate ladder. When it’s finally her turn, he wants out and money. I don’t know where these guys get such ideas.”
“Must be something in the water.”
Gemma looks at me like I’ve got two heads. Since our last date, I’ve been trying to put my finger on precisely what it is about her that rubs me the wrong way, and until now, I couldn’t figure it out. Now, watching her expressionless face, I’ve got it. She has no sense of humor. Zero. Nada. Yup, no third date with this one.
“Have you ever been married, Jack?”
“Thankfully, no. I haven’t. I guess this is where I tell you I’m not the marrying kind.”
“Any particular reason you feel that way? Maybe first you should tell me what you think the marrying kind is.”
Why do I feel like I’m on the witness stand being questioned by a prosecuting attorney?
“Here’s the thing, Gemma. I like myself exactly as I am. I don’t expect to change, and let’s face it, that’s usually what happens once you’re married.
Women fall in love with you and think you’re exactly what they’ve been looking for all their lives, until you’re not. That realization often comes right after they say, I do. At that point they set about trying to change the guy. Some guys go along with it. The next thing they know they’re middle aged and don’t recognize themselves anymore. If that’s marital bliss, you can have it.”
I can tell by the look on her face that this date will be over soon.
“Have you always been this arrogant?”
I’m losing my patience and my temper.
“Arrogant? You think I’m arrogant because I know who I am and what I want? I’ll tell you what’s arrogant. How about you showing up at least thirty minutes late? The first date it was forty minutes. You think the world revolves around your schedule? Your behavior is the epitome of arrogance.”
Gemma looks stunned at my words. I can tell she is taking a few minutes to compose herself and come up with a brilliant lawyer-infused response.
“This is exactly what Tilly Alden said on her podcast yesterday. Men are intimidated by women who are successful in their careers. They put on a good show, acting like they’re supportive, but the truth is they still see us as eye candy. They check out our legs when we’re getting coffee; they stare at our tits and wonder what we look like naked when we’re standing in the conference room giving a presentation.
They make snide remarks about our ability and contributions to the company, no matter the industry. If we complain, we’re told we can’t take a joke. That’s if they haven’t already labeled us as a bitch. It’s sick. I’ve worked hard to get where I am in my career, and I don’t have to apologize to you or anyone for it.”
I don’t know who the hell Tilly Alden is, but whoever she is, she sounds like an idiot.
“If I were a man, and I arrived here late, you’d probably pat me on the back and be impressed and even jealous of my massive clientele. You wouldn’t think anything of it. But because I’m a woman, it’s different. I show up here late because of my work and your ego can’t take it.”
Gemma gets up and grabs her purse. “I think we’re done here.”
I stand and gesture for the server. “I couldn’t agree more.”
She opens her purse and throws down a ten-dollar bill. “That’s for my glass of wine. I pay my way. I’m sure you think that’s arrogant too.”
She turns and walks out of the restaurant. I couldn’t be happier. Now all I have to do is beat the crap out of my brother, Joshua. What the hell was he thinking?
I take my drink and head to the pub side of the restaurant. I take a seat at the bar and figure I might as well finish my drink and order a burger while I watch the game on TV.
I try to think if I’ve pissed Joshua off lately. Fixing me up with Gemma could only be interpreted as an intentional clusterfuck, designed to ruin my week.
There must be something I’ve done to make him get back at me this way. We’ve pulled pranks on each other our entire lives. I’m going to kick his ass as soon as I see him because this last prank went too far.
Chapter 3
Tilly
We walk into the bar like we’ve already been drinking. We’re loud, and we know it. Lexi typically causes a scene, but Maura and I are quick to back up her outrageous ways. I don’t know what it is about the three of us when we’re together, but we seem to bring out the crazy in each other.
Dive is half pub and half quiet formal dining room. I don’t know how they pull it off because there are two different types of people in here at the same time. Those who like to get drunk and party and everyone else. It’s hysterical to see because one side of the place is always much noisier than the other. They’ve managed to make it work though. I’m thinking they must have installed sound proofing somewhere.
It should come as no surprise that it’s the loud pub side that we’ve entered. Even so, heads turn when we walk into the room. We make a beeline for the bar and order our drinks.
The bartender brings us our beers, and I hold mine up to toast to another dating disaster.
I can tell that Maura feels bad for me, but being her upbeat self tries to find the positive. “Look at it this way, Tilly, you’ve probably got more material for your podcast than if you interviewed twenty women.”
“Don’t remind me. I know. Is it me or is it impossible to find a good guy?”
I hate how accurate Maura’s statement is. I’ve managed to date more losers this year than I care to admit to. What’s shocking is that so many women I’ve interviewed have had the same problem. So where the hell are all the good ones? Are they really either married or gay?
Lexi gives me a hug. “You couldn’t be more spot on, Tilly. It’s getting harder and harder just to find a normal guy. I don’t understand it. Look at us, we are three fantastic women, and not one of us has been able to find the perfect guy. They just don’t exist.”
Not that I want to be a buzz kill on our night out, but I’m feeling a little sad to think there is even a small possibility that she could be right.
“I don’t know, guys. I’m wondering if my podcast is influencing me too much. Maybe it’s my mindset, or my perspective that’s all messed up. I’ve been listening to so many horror stories that I’m starting to believe it’s us against them. That attitude can’t be conducive to finding Mr. Right.”
Lexi takes a g
ulp of her beer and says, “I don’t care to find Mr. Right, at least not today. I’m having too much fun banging Mr. Right Now.”
“Oh my God, Lex. You are too funny. Maybe that’s really the problem. I’m not getting laid.”
Lexi looks outraged. “Get out. You’re not getting any at all?”
“You guys know how I feel. I haven’t been with anyone since Sean.”
Laughing, Maura calls the bartender over. “Of course that’s the problem. I say we do a few tequila shots while we ponder your sad little life.”
Before I can protest, three shots of tequila, a dish of limes, and a saltshaker appear.
Maura stops us before we down our shots. “Wait. We’ve been doing these shots all wrong. Let’s do it the way they do in Mexico. I watched a YouTube video on this. Check this out.”
Maura takes a lime, shakes a bit of salt on it, and puts it in her mouth, sucking the juice. She follows that up with the tequila and lets out a satisfied squeal.
“That is the fucking bomb. So good.”
Lexi and I follow suit, and before long we’ve downed three each.
Turning to me, Maura says, “It’s time you get laid, my friend. You need to focus on becoming multi-orgasmic instead of thinking about that douchebag, Sean.”
Lexi defends me. “I hate that asshole. I can’t believe he’s married now with a baby on the way. There’s something wrong with a guy who leaves you at the altar and hooks up with a skank like Melody Meyer. Just saying her name makes me want to punch something. Consider yourself lucky. You dodged a bullet with that one.”
Maura agrees. “If a guy cheats once, he’ll cheat again. It’s a proven fact. It’s only a matter of time before he screws around on her. That marriage won’t last. I already feel bad for the kid.”
