Match This! (The UnSocial Dater#1)

by Mj Fields

  The comments under the pictures say a variety of things.

  - Worst date ever, don’t waste your time. #DND

  That was Alvin, so I post a balloon floating and a chipmunk, because it’s amusing and to be a bitch.

  - She fucked my roommate and then took the little snatch I was sure to get off in. Fucking dykes and their games. #DND

  It was Rex. I replied.

  Kat: Tell your roommate he is a lousy lay, she was soooo much better.

  I decide not to respond to the rest. Fuck them.

  I reply to @rider1

  - I didn’t piss anyone off, that’s the fan club.

  I wait for him to reply, he has been pretty prompt in the past.

  Just not now.

  Boredom. It wasn’t the fact that I was really into this shit, I was bored and it was a distraction.

  I look up when the door chimes.

  Some chick wearing a half shirt when she has no business wearing one storms in.

  “Ricco here?” she asks.

  “No,” I say and look down.

  She snaps her fingers almost in front of my face. “Hey, I’m talking to you.”

  Oh no she didn’t.

  “When he comes in you tell him the tests were wrong and me and my sister both know the babies are his. All three of us had a hot night and-”

  I hold my hand up an inch from her face. “You should really just shut the fuck up.”

  “Excuse me!” She puts her hand on her hips.

  “I said, you should really shut the fuck up and get the fuck out of here.”

  “I want to speak to the manager.”

  “You are.”

  “Then I want to speak to the owner!”

  “You are.”

  “Then you tell him Carmen was here and-”

  “I’m not a hundred percent sure how to speak whore so I’ll say it slower. Get. The. Fuck. Out. Of. My. Shop.” I stand up.

  “I don’t know who the fuck you think you are, but you better watch your back bitch.”

  “What the hell’s going on?” Zack asks as he jogs down the hall.

  “One of Ricco’s wanna be baby mommas is just leaving,” I say walking casually towards the door and opening it.

  “You the boss?” she asks Zack. “Cause this bitch certainly isn’t.”

  “Zack, this bitch has it.” I point to myself and then down the hall towards his room. “Go ahead back.”

  “No fucking way,” he laughs. “I’d love to see a Kat fight. I’ll even hold your hoops.”

  “That’s enough,” booms from down the hall as Ricco walks towards us in a slow, long, casual stride.

  “This bitch needs to leave,” I snap at him.

  “She’s leaving,” he scowls as he takes her elbow and walks towards the door. “Shit’s done, Carmen.”

  “The test was wrong,” she argues.

  “Ninety nine point nine percent sure I’m not either one of their fathers means done.” His tone is even and calm.

  “Fucking whores,” I mumble under my breath.

  “Kat, that’s enough!” he snaps at me.

  Ricco never yells or snaps. I give him the finger.

  “I need that money, we need that money. If we didn’t think they were yours we would have gotten rid of them,” whore ass snaps.

  “Not my problem anymore. Go test someone else. They can provide.”

  “No he can’t!”

  The door shuts behind them and he is still walking her towards the car.

  My blood is boiling and I cannot wait until he comes back in here whore free to face the bitch he thinks he can tell what to do.

  “Daddy?” I hear a little voice and look down the hall at a little girl with wavy black hair, big greenish brown eyes and she’s wearing Ninja Turtle pajama pants and a Batman pajama top.

  “Natalia?” Zack asks walking quickly towards her.

  Her shoulders slouch, head hangs and she pops two fingers in her mouth, the middle one is sticking straight up.

  That’s fucking adorable and if she wasn’t a kid, who more than likely has germs, I may actually like her.

  But I don’t do kids.

  “Zack, you’re scaring her, slow down man,” Marcus says walking out of his room. He looks at her. “Hey, Natalia.”

  I can’t see her reaction but the idiots both laugh.

  “Not funny,” comes out in a pissy, muffled, quivering tone.

  “Hey,” I say and the guys turn around. “Kid, he’ll be right back.”

  She looks up and nods.

  “These two are his buddies. They may look like weirdos but they won’t bother you or your Dad will kick their butts, okay?”

  She nods and pulls her fingers out. “Are you the cat?”

  The door opens. “Hey, Nat, go grab me a Gatorade will you?” She smiles and nods. “Get one for you too.”

  The sound of his voice pisses me off.

  “Does the cat want one?” she asks. I shake my head no and she shrugs. “Kay.”

  I don’t turn around. I’m waiting to rip him a new asshole and Tweedledee and Tweedledum are looking at me. They know I’m pissed.

  “Show’s over,” Ricco says.

  They walk back to their rooms.

  I turn around and glare at him.

  “Don’t start, Kat. Been a shit day,” he says and walks by.

  “Shit day or not, don’t ever speak to me like that again,” I warn him in a low snarl.

  He doesn’t look at me, he walks by. “Done here.”

  “Excuse me?” I hiss.

  He turns around and looks at me. “I said, we’re done here.”

  For a moment I’m speechless, but it doesn’t last long. “Who do you think you are?”

  He runs his hand over his head and turns around. “What I am is a man who’s had a sick kid for a couple days who comes to work just in time for a pissing match.”

  “She started it!”

  “Shouldn’t have been involved, sorry you were. It’s over. I got this. Won’t happen again.”

  He turns and walks away.

  “I’m not done.”

  “Taco Tuesday, Kat. See you tomorrow.”

  ****

  I walk out the front, no reason to walk out the back and chance catching kid germs or pissy attitudes. It’s Taco Tuesday and I have a date at eight tonight. I wasn’t looking forward to it, but now, after that shit, I am hoping for an orgasm.

  I slide in my car and start to put my phone on the charger when I see an alert. I hit the app and it opens.

  @rider1: Damn if that’s a fan club I’d hate to see what your haters are like.

  Kat: Brutal.

  I type thinking of the shit I just left. For a brief moment I think that maybe, just maybe dating a preppy ass Ken doll would not be so bad. Not when I work with a bunch of assholes.

  @rider1: Can’t let it get to you. Let it roll off your back. You need me to bust heads let me know.

  Kat: Thanks but no thanks. I’m a lady who can handle herself.

  It wasn’t a lie.

  @rider1: With a man beside you who wasn’t just a player, you wouldn’t have to.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Tongue Tuesday

  After Tacos with Mom and Macey I head to the pier for my date. Macey is going to follow me to make sure ‘all goes well’.

  Peter, yes that’s his real name, looks like a cousin to Alvin, but I pray to God he has a man's voice.

  I had looked at his picture but was kind of preoccupied with…life to worry about a date.

  “Kat,” he smiles as I walk up the wooden planks.

  “Peter?” I ask forcing myself to smile. God answered my prayers, he has a...manly voice.

  “Wow,” he says as he looks me up and down.

  “Wow?” I ask curiously.

  “You have a load of tattoos,” he says looking at me, but not really at me.

  Peter is making me uncomfortable.

  “Do you have any?” I say breaking the silence. />
  He blinks and it seems intentional. “I’ll show you if you really want?”

  “Where?”

  He looks around and leans in. “Low.”

  “Your dick is inked?”

  He laughs. “No, but close enough that showing you in public may get me arrested. Let’s save that for when we’re alone.”

  “And what makes you think that will be anytime soon?”

  “A man can dream,” he blinks again.

  I stare at him trying to see if he has dust in his eye, or a speck of dirt, something to explain the constant blinking.

  Nothing.

  He’s looking me up and down again and making me uncomfortable-ish.

  “I need a fucking drink,” I mumble and he laughs.

  “I’ll take both,” and he fucking blinks again.

  “A drink is cool but the fucking, that’s not gonna happen.”

  He holds his hand over his heart. “Ouch, shot down.”

  After a drink, a million more one-liners and distracting blinks, I decide Peter could be worse. At least he’s trying to be funny and charming. He’s also trying to get in my pants, but after the epic fail Sunday night I am not going to chance a let down again so soon. I have a peen collection that’s missing and a mom who knows no boundaries, at all. I can’t chance her walking in on me getting off.

  When he walks me to my car he leans in like he’s going to get to kiss me.

  I open my mouth to tell him that’s not going to happen and he grabs the back of my head and smashes his mouth against mine.

  His tongue shoves in deep, like a sword.

  I push mine against his trying to push it the fuck out and he groans. He groans, and shows no sign of retreating.

  It’s not the worst kiss, but certainly not the best and people are walking by. How do I know this? My eyes are open.

  My eyes are open and he is tongue fucking my mouth. And it’s a sloppy as hell fucking too.

  I roll my eyes at the group of women walking by and they laugh.

  He groans and without warning his hand covers my tit and his hard-on presses against my stomach. That’s it. I push him back rather forcefully.

  “Kat,” he says looking totally fucking enamored with me.

  “Peter,” I respond wiping my lips.

  “You taste so good up there, I want to taste you everywhere.”

  He leans in like he’s going to sword fight my mouth again and I hold my hand up stopping him.

  “Kat,” he groans.

  “I need to get going-”

  “Before we end up fucking right here,” he says looking down. “I know, this connection we have, this, intense attraction.” I almost laugh because it’s fucking laughable. “We need private time soon, Kat.”

  “See ya,” I say while opening the door and getting in.

  I shut the door and see him blinking.

  I pull out, as quick as a man avoiding pregnancy, and get the fuck out of there.

  I glance in the rearview and he’s standing there waving like a fool.

  I laugh to myself and then out loud. This is a fucking joke. A sick joke. A sick, twisted joke.

  Whoever said that being with someone was better than being alone was as fucked up as they come.

  I allow myself to briefly imagine life with someone like Alvin. I imagine myself in our nest, him looking good, but that fucking voice would have me running to the busiest street and laying sprawled out waiting for the next truck to run me over.

  Not-Rex, sucked in bed and was no conversationalist. The turn on was the way he stood in the shadows watching me. The turn off was him not being able to hold a conversation and when I insulted him about being inept he didn’t have the balls to tell me I was a bitch. He simply followed me into the house and then and only then did he take any sort of dominant position when he walked past me, wordlessly, leading me to his room. Fuck, I even had to put the damn condom on him and he still stood there stunned.

  In his defense, and I have no idea why I am defending him, he was not Rex, he didn’t know me, he must have just thought it was his lucky night. It was.

  I know Peter was eager to pet my pooty. So eager, I also know, that sex would suck dong. He would have probably come when I put the condom on him.

  Out of the three Not-Rex was probably my favorite.

  He knew his place. I imagine myself patting him on the head like the dog he is, ‘Good Not-Rex,’ and as amusing as that is, it would never be something I would want for more than a night, let alone a lifetime.

  Dating was another joke. What is it even for? To find a lifelong mate? The divorce rate clearly indicates that the adolescent fantasy of a happily ever after was about fifty percent and the life expectancy of a human being rises due to the miracles of science. Does this not scream wake up to the bitches in the world who still believe in their knight in shining armor, the guy she’s about to spread her legs for, will be hers forever?

  It’s too fucking bad you aren’t taught that your self-worth and happiness cannot come from making someone else happy, or the opposite, someone else making you happy. Even if it started out on an even ground, both people making the other equally as happy, situations change, shit happens, people die, kids act like asses, bills pile up, and there is no way to make that not happen.

  Years ago I’m sure it was a little different. Men were men. Take my father for example, he was a man. He loved me, loved her, and there was never a time I doubted that. He worked, supported his family, came home, played with his kid, hugged his wife, and now I know from Mom, he was a good lay.

  I raise my hand and fist bump the man that just a few days ago I was pissed at.

  See, even more reason to avoid a relationship. I am a moody bitch. I can ignore my ‘feelings’ for the most part and get through a day. Pissed off is about as equally looked past as stupidity is by me.

  Back to men. We women all bitch about them, we do. We complain that they are pussies, or deadbeats, or don’t want to work. Well, who the fuck raised the spray tanned, eyebrow waxing, lug heads? The same women complaining about the type are raising the next generation of them.

  I pull down my street and look at the clock, it’s nine thirty. Date number three was sixty minutes of my day I will never get back.

  I could have been in bed, with a plastic peen, in my comfy unicorn pajamas concentrating on an orgasm and not replaying in my head what I already know about love.

  It is a joke.

  I pull in the driveway and put my car in park. I grab my phone and look at the app. Twenty eight notifications from Match Up.

  Fuck that.

  “Match this!” I give my phone the finger.

  When I walk in, Mom is standing at the island smiling. “How was your date?”

  I shrug. “Okay.”

  She looks at me as if she is trying to read me.

  “It’s insane to think you’ll find someone on one of these sites.”

  “Thousands of people do,” she says.

  I shake my head. “I guarantee all those ads about happy couples are paid actors and actresses.”

  She laughs. “Maybe some, but I doubt all.”

  “I told you I’d give it a try for a week-”

  She interrupts. “We agreed on two.”

  “Yes, we did, but you don’t seem to be holding up your end of the deal.”

  “Darby is coming home tomorrow. She’ll be here Friday.”

  “So,” I shrug.

  “So, I don’t have time to date. We’re going to be very busy getting settled,” she smiles.

  “This smile is brought to you by a bullshit excuse,” I say using the same tone she had at the wine festival.

  “It’s not an excuse, Katherine,” she says and takes a sip of her coffee. “You’ve taught me a few things.”

  “Is that right?” I am shocked.

  “Yes,” she nods. “I never had the chance to be my own person. I was so young when I got married. In seven years I experienced the love of a man, the love for
a child, and what a happy home could be. I never had that until your father.”

  “But his drinking.”

  She sighs. “It didn’t bother me that he stopped at a bar after work. Heck, he deserved it. It only bothered me when he died. So, not only did I get to experience a love I had only dreamt of, I experienced my heart being ripped apart by losing the man who was supposed to make me feel happy for the rest of my life.”

  “All the while trying to keep it together for me,” I say.

  “And for me.”

  It’s quiet for a moment while we both think about what was just shared.

  “Kat, I wouldn’t change it for the world. I wouldn’t go back if I could and not sleep with Sean in the back of his dad’s pick-up truck, or insisted on using protection so I wouldn’t get pregnant. I wouldn’t because those seven short years were the best of my life.”

  “What about Sam?”

  “Well I wouldn’t have married him either had your father not left us.”

  “I hate when you say that. Left us,” I tell her.

  “I can’t say he’s dead. I can’t when the memories of him are so alive. I look at you and see him.” She shrugs. “I think maybe that’s why I’m so overprotective of you and your sister. If I lost either of you, I wouldn’t survive. Staying away from you for almost five years except on holidays felt like a slow torture. Knowing you were okay kept me going.”

  “You need a life outside of us.”

  “That’s not the point. The point is, I have lived, and loved, and hurt. I have made mistakes and I am not afraid to make more. My oldest daughter, my Kitty Kat, is someone to not only be proud of, but aspire to be more like. My youngest may be the death of me.” We both laugh. “But I know she’ll come through. Then, and only then, will it feel okay to move forward.”

  “Well, you have three days until she gets here.” I grab her phone. “We had a deal. You’d try if I did.”

  “I can’t,” she laughs but looks excited.

  “You can. Besides, you aren’t the only single parent out there. We’ll find you someone as overbearing as you are with their teenagers and you two can hook up when they’re at school or with their other parent.”

  “I couldn’t,” she smiles.

  “That smile, is brought to you by a woman who knows damn well she can,” I joke, but I know a woman like my mother needs a man in her life.