Dating Dilemma

by Brownell, Rachael

  "Oh, I don't know. Maybe the fact you're attempting not to laugh."

  "Well, I guess you'll just have to wait and find out what I'm keeping from you. You'll know soon enough."

  Pushing me away, Kyle grabs my hands and spins me around, pulling me back to him so we're back to chest. He starts swaying us from side to side. Before I know it, we're dancing to our own rhythm. There are a few people in the park watching us, but I don't care. Let them watch. They should be jealous of what we have. It's real. It's amazing. And it can only get better from here.

  Dear Maggie,

  * * *

  I met this amazing girl through an online dating site. She's funny and kind. Her smile lights up a room, and her laugh is contagious. She loves a lot of the same things I do, and when we're together, we always have fun. The problem is she's pretending to be someone she's not. When I found out, I was angry. I didn't call her for a few weeks, but now I'm trying to make it up to her. You see, no matter who she is or isn't, I fell in love with her, and I want her to be a part of my life. We can figure out the little details as we go. Do you think she'd want to go out with me if I gave her a call? I'd give anything to see her smile at me again.

  * * *

  ~Hopelessly in Love

  Hopelessly in Love,

  * * *

  It can't hurt to try. Men think women hold grudges for longer than we actually do. Most of us are forgiving and understanding. When it comes to our own mistakes screwing up a good relationship, we're very understanding. I say give her a call. You never know... she might answer.

  * * *

  ~Maggie

  28

  Lauren

  When the question comes in, I know exactly who it's from. How can I not publish it this week? It's my final column with the Daily News. I'll be in search of a new position tomorrow morning. I'm not interested in being Maggie Tuttle anymore or the voice behind the column she built. I'm ready to stand on my own two feet and make a name for myself.

  As scared as I was to have that conversation with Mr. Phelps and Maggie, after an amazing weekend, I felt empowered. When I walked in on Monday morning, I knew I had to take charge of my life again. I'm not weak. I will not allow them to walk all over me or pressure me into taking a position I don't want.

  Dear Maggie was a stepping stone for me.

  It was never meant to be my career, and I never wanted it to be. It's not me. It's not what I love to write. It's not why I became a journalist.

  However, I'm happy I had the opportunity to write the column. I'm grateful to both of them for putting me in the uncomfortable situation they did. Not only do I feel like a stronger journalist, but it forced me to figure out who I am and what I want. It made me step outside my comfort zone and re-immerse myself in the dating world.

  Sure, I went about it an obscure way, but it was exactly what I needed. Even if I didn't know it at the time. My relationship with Kyle may still be in its infancy, but the fact I'm not scared to call it a relationship is how I know we're in a good place. I even told my parents about him last night. That wasn't a fun conversation.

  "Lauren. How are you baby girl?" my father asked as soon as he picked up the phone.

  "Good, Daddy. How are you guys?"

  "Same 'ole, same 'ole. You know things never change around here."

  Very true. My parents have owned the same house for as long as I've been alive. They've driven the same cars for as long as I can remember. Both have worked the same jobs since I was a small child. Nothing ever changes with them. That was part of the reason I needed to make sure I didn't end up back there. Aside from them not agreeing with my choice to become a journalist, I was afraid my life would become stagnant as well.

  "Well you sound happy, so that's good. Where's Mom?"

  "She ran to the store. She should be back any minute. We just needed a few things."

  Let me guess. It's Monday; that means eggs and bread. She used the last of both for breakfast this morning. Tomorrow, she'll go back to the store for milk. Wednesday, she will be out of mayo or ketchup or something she needs to make dinner. My mother, bless her heart, is at the store seven days a week. If I didn't know any better, I would think it's her favorite place.

  "Well, I was hoping to tell you both at the same time, but since she's not home, I guess you get to be the first to know. I gave my resignation today."

  "You quit your job? The job you were excited about and moved across the country for?" he asks, a lack of surprise in his voice.

  "Yes, but—"

  "What are your plans now? Are you moving home?"

  "I'm not moving home, Daddy. I'm staying. I'm going to look for another job here."

  "Why in the world would you stay there?" he asks, clearly confused by the fact that I don't jump at the opportunity to live under their roof again. "Hold on. Your mother just pulled in. You can explain to her why you quit the amazing job you had to take."

  "You make it sound like I'm making a mistake. If you'd listen for a minute, I'll explain everything."

  He doesn't respond, even after I call his name twice. Then I hear him in the background, talking to my mother. He must have put the phone down and walked away. That's one way to get the final word.

  "We're both here, dear," my mother says. "What's this I hear about you quitting your job?"

  "I quit my job. It wasn't the job I came here for, and it was best for us to part ways," I begin.

  "So, you're moving home?" my mother asks.

  "No, she’s staying there apparently," my father answers for me.

  “Well, that’s silly. You should just come home and look for a job here. I know Abby would be delighted to have you back. And you can always stay with us, of course.”

  I hate it when they are both on the phone at the same time. It always turns into them talking to each other about me like I'm not on the other end of the line. This used to happen all the time in college. Next time I'm home, I'm going to hide all the phones in the house except one so this never happens again.

  "Mom! Dad! Will you both please listen for a minute? I'll explain the entire situation if you both stop talking to each other and promise not to interrupt me until I'm done. Okay?" They agree in unison, so I continue. "I was hired to write community interest pieces. The kind you read about local heroes or new restaurant openings. I would have done research and interviews. The things I enjoy most about being a journalist. My assignment changed on my first day. They asked me to fill in for one of their columnists who was basically having a mental breakdown. She's fine now, back in town, but they asked me to stay on and continue to write her column. It's not something I'm passionate about and as much as I've somewhat enjoyed it the last few weeks, it's not the type of journalism I'm interested in writing.

  "When I explained this to my boss, he told me that writing the column was the only position he had for me. If I turned it down, I would be out of a job. I took some time to think about it, and I decided not to stay on. Tomorrow is my last column. Thursday morning, I'll be looking for another job."

  No one says anything for a minute. I think they've hung up on me until I realize they're waiting for me to tell them I'm finished.

  "How bad was the column that you can't suck it up and write it until you find something else, Lauren? You're smarter than this. You should never quit a job until you have another one lined up. What are you going to do for money? You know we can't help you," my father asks, his disapproval of my decision loud and clear.

  My father's words echo in my head. I wasn't planning on asking them for help. I never have, and I never will. I'm an adult now. It's time to start acting like it, and as much as this move isn't screaming responsible, I'm standing by my decision.

  "I want to write what I'm passionate about. I know you guys don't understand me wanting to be a journalist. It's always been apparent that you don't approve. The thing is, if I'm not passionate about what I'm writing, my writing isn't the best it can be. I want it to be great. It can be great as soon as I find
the right job."

  "So, why don't you move back here? There have to be more opportunities than in the little town you moved to," my father points out.

  He's going to keep asking until I give him a straight answer.

  I might as well tell them why I want to stay.

  Confessing the truth is going to suck, but maybe it'll help them understand.

  "Look, this town may be little, but it's filled with a ton of opportunity. Not just for my career, but for me personally, as well."

  That's all they're going to get right now.

  "You met someone!" my mom screams into the phone, causing me to jump and pull the phone away from my face. "Why didn't you just say so? What's his name? What's he do? How long have you been seeing each other?"

  She continues to rattle off questions until I interrupt her. Once I've answered all of them to her liking, she screams again and starts talking about grandbabies. That's when I know the conversation needs to end. The one thing she didn't ask was how we met. I'm sure she'll ask eventually, but that's a story for another day. A very long, complicated, drawn out, story. One I hope I get the opportunity to tell the grandbabies she's asking about. Someday.

  29

  Kyle

  Confessing my love to Lauren through the Dear Maggie column was a risk. When she told me she loved me on the phone the other night, I knew she wouldn't remember. That didn't stop me from saying it back. I knew from the moment I saw her she was special. There was something different about her. Something that drew me in and made me want to know everything. Now that I do, we can move forward.

  Hopefully together.

  After submitting the question, I head out to pick Lauren up for our afternoon rendezvous, wondering if she even remembers asking me to come and get her. Probably not, but I'm going to anyway. Her drunken state last night was cute.

  At first, I could tell she was wasted. Her words were slurred and she had the hiccups, which caused her to start laughing. Her laughter caused her to snort, which caused her to laugh even harder. But then she started to sound normal again.

  I was confused at first. Was she drunk or was she sober? When she apologized profusely and explained the entire situation to me without me getting a word in, I knew she was still drunk. She was begging for my forgiveness even after I gave it to her.

  How could I stay mad at her for doing her job?

  Did I believe that she missed the connection between the column and our first date? I actually did. Was I going to hold it against her and torture the both of us by keeping us apart? Absolutely not.

  Lauren is the first good thing that’s happened to me in a long time. I wasn’t willing to risk losing her. Not again.

  I watch as her shadow gets closer and closer to her door. When I'm certain she's watching me through the peephole, I call her out. Living alone, I would worry about anyone other than her. She's smart. She knows better than to answer the door without knowing who's on the other side. It's always locked, and the chain is always pulled. Her parents taught her well.

  After she showers, gets cleaned up, and downs three cups of coffee, we head down to the fountain. When she told me they had drained the fountains, I wasn't surprised. It made me wish I was there. That's when I decided what we would do today.

  Swaying back and forth, holding Lauren in my arms, is the perfect start and end to my day. There's nowhere else I'd rather be and no one else I'd rather be with.

  The heaviness my heart has felt over the last six months has vanished. I can feel it beating in my chest again. It's as if it's been awakened from hibernation. This feeling is like nothing I've ever felt before.

  I thought I loved Kristen, but I was wrong. I was in love with the idea of her. The fun we had together, the places we went, that's what I loved. It was never her. She was just along for the ride.

  It's different with Lauren. I can feel her love for me. It's only been a little over a month since we first met, but it's strong. Strong enough to make me fight for her, to get her back, and now to hold onto her tight. I'll never let her slip through my fingers again. No matter what happens.

  Damn. I sound like a crazy person. Is this what love does to you? Makes you have thoughts of holding the other person captive so they can't leave you?

  Although... tying her up sounds like fun, too. Or handcuffs. Whichever she prefers. We could get those cuffs with the fuzzy liner so they don't hurt her wrists.

  "What are you thinking about back there?" she asks, turning in my arms.

  "Nothing. Just how happy you make me."

  "How happy I make you, or how happy I make him?" she asks, looking down between us.

  My dick is straining against the zipper of my jeans. The thought of tying her up got him jumpstarted. I'm not embarrassed that she busted me. I'm more concerned about how we're going to leave here without anyone else noticing. We do need to leave, though. Quickly. He's itching to be set free.

  "Both," I reply, turning her back around so he's pressed against her perfect ass. I'd never take her there without her permission. Maybe one day she'll let me try it. It's been a fantasy of mine for years.

  "Stop having dirty thoughts or we'll never be able to leave," she whispers over her shoulder so only I can hear. A few other couples have joined us to dance in the fountain. It appears we've started a new trend.

  "Give me something else to think about then."

  "Waterfalls. The beach. Puppies. Any of that working?"

  "All I heard was you naked in a waterfall. You in a swimsuit on the beach. And us getting a puppy together who would howl while I take you in our bed."

  Laughing, her body vibrates against mine, making our situation worse.

  "I should be flattered," she says.

  "Yes, you should."

  "What do you say we make a run for it? I'll stay in front of you."

  "I think we're going to have to. He's not calming down. The thought of you running in front of me just made it worse. Your ass in front of me, tits bouncing."

  "You shouldn't be allowed to leave the house if you can't act appropriately," she jokes.

  I stop us from swaying and take a deep breath. "On the count of three, slowly walk toward the edge of the fountain, I'll help you over the ledge and then we run for the car. Stay in front of me. There are children around, Lauren. I don't want to scar any of them for life or have their parents chasing me."

  Carefully helping her over the edge so she doesn’t fall again, I do the best I can to shield my private parts from view. Scraping my junk on the edge as I crawl over, I almost scream out in pain but bite my lip to hold back.

  With Lauren leading the way, we take off toward the car. There's a couple up ahead giving us a curious smile. When the woman catches sight of me, her eyes practically pop out of her head. She nudges her boyfriend and points toward my crotch.

  This does not go over well. He looks angry, with her, not me. As we pass, I holler an apology but don't slow down. They can work that shit out themselves. I have my own problems at the moment.

  Once we're safely in the car, Lauren busts out laughing. We're both breathing hard from the run, so when she snorts, I can't help but join her in laughter. I love her snort. I love that she finds this funny. It could have embarrassed her. Or made her angry with me. It didn't. It made her laugh.

  "Ready to head back to my place and solve your little problem?" she jokes as I start the car.

  "Little problem?"

  "Well, I'm assuming he'll be much bigger once you remove the restraints of your jeans."

  "You're damn straight he'll be much bigger."

  "I guess you'll have to prove it," she challenges.

  If every day can be as great as today, I'll be the happiest man in the world. All I need is for Lauren to be a part of it. Nothing else will matter as long as I have her by my side, laughing and snorting until death do us part.

  THE END

  * * *

  Keep reading… I’ve included a special BONUS mini-story! You can find out how Lauren
’s advice turned out for Gigi and her porn watching boyfriend…

  Gigi

  Dear Maggie,

  * * *

  I caught my boyfriend watching porn the other night. Is it because we're not having sex yet? Our relationship is still new, and I'm honestly not ready. I want to be with him, but all I can see when I close my eyes right now is what I walked in on the other night. Now I'm not sure I'll ever be ready. He wants to talk about it, but I'm afraid to call him back. What am I supposed to say?

  * * *

  ~Gigi

  1

  "What the fuck!" I scream, my purse falling from my shoulder and landing with a thud on his hardwood floor.

  There's a half-naked woman getting pounded in the ass on Ben's sixty-inch plasma television. Her screams are echoing through the room, and the look on her face is startling. It's as if it's both painful and enjoyable.

  My scream doesn't stop them. Why would it? They're not real. They're actors, having sex for money. Making a movie. And my boyfriend is paying their salary.

  "Gigi! What are you doing here?" he asks, pulling a blanket over his lap as I round the couch.

  There's no hiding what's under it. His erection is pointing at me, literally. Grabbing a pillow when he realizes his dick is practically poking through the blanket, his face turns bright red. He's busted, and he knows it.

  "I tried to call and let you know I got out of work early, but you didn't answer. I figured I'd surprise you."

  Looking to his phone for confirmation, he can see the little green light blinking from its place on the table.