Pyper smiles at me. “Well duh! You think I’m going to let you have all the fun without me? Not a chance! This is going to be so fun! Let’s grab our laptops.”
Pyper heads to her office to grab her laptop and I snatch mine out of my bedroom. Meeting Pyper back in the living room, I top off our glasses of wine, only to realize that we’ve just about gone through one bottle – so quickly, hmmm - so I proceed to the wine fridge – I still can’t believe she has one of those - and grab another bottle of chilled Riesling, our favorite. We set our laptops up on the coffee table side by side and sit on the floor in front of them.
For a minute, we just stare at each other and giggle. Yep, we are definitely starting to feel the wine, I’m not sure if this is going to be a good thing or not! Oh well! If we’re doing this, then I’m going all in. We both pull up the dating site called Date Me and realize we have to register before we can even browse through any profiles. We each quickly enter a username and password and, then annoyingly, realize that we also have to provide our email address, birth date and tell them how we heard about their website. I just type the word ‘Pyper’ and giggle to myself. Once that information is entered, we start entering information into our individual profiles, but we realize we can now browse the site, so decide to first look around at some of the men’s profiles a short time – for motivation and ideas. At least that’s what I tell myself.
On the main page there are a few featured profiles with brief information showing the person’s screen name, age, what city they live in, and an answer to a random question. The questions vary and immediately a few catch our eyes.
“Oh my gosh, Pyper look at this guy” I turn my computer to show her a man whose name is WayneH and it says he is thirty-three. He’s got light brown hair, a goatee and has remarkable green eyes. It is only a head shot but his looks don’t really hold my attention. I mean he’s not bad looking, average, but my eyes are glued to his question and answer. “Look here, it says ‘The Most Private Thing I’m Willing to Admit is…I am sterile. I just have a fun gun’.” And he has signed that little tidbit of awesomeness with a smiley face.
We completely bust out laughing like crazy girls. “My Grandmother used to always say it takes all types to make the world go round. That woman was smart!” Pyper states through her laughter.
“I can’t breathe!” I gasp, “A fun gun! Hilarious!”
We see several others that make us laugh until we snort.
At one point, Pyper again turns her computer to show me a full body shot of a guy that says he is twenty-nine. He’s dressed in a black suit, with a white dress shirt peeking from under the suit coat, with one too many buttons undone. One hand is placed in his pants pocket, the other on his hip. He has dark brown hair with a receding hair line and is wearing dark sunglasses. He’s obviously trying to look suave and sophisticated, but comes off looking like a gigolo.
I take in his appearance and look at Pyper questioningly. Reading the look on my face she says, “Check out his photo caption.”
I look under the photo, “At my best friend’s funeral. RIP Shawn.” Again we crack up. “Why, oh why would anyone put that? I mean, I’m sorry about your friend but dude, so not cool!”
“Oh man… I wonder what his best friend would think?”
“Pyper I’m telling you right now, if you think you look hot at my funeral someday and want to use your photo to try and get guys on a dating site…I totally approve.”
Pyper chokes on her wine and we just lose control yet again. Oh, my stomach is starting to hurt from laughing so hard.
“Pyper wait! I think I have a winner! I think the prize goes to SurferBoy, who is twenty-three years old.” I show her SB’s photo. He is quite attractive with blonde hair, blue eyes and sexy messy hair. His muscular arms and legs and rippled abs are accented by the board shorts and white polo shirt. Flip flops finish his look. He definitely has the surfer look going for him. Pyper checks him out, “He is cute – and he has a nice body too.”
“Yes I agree. Check out his question and answer!”
I see her eyes moving to the information I told her to look at, “I’m really good at…” and he inserted “liberating your pleasure wave.”
We giggle uncontrollably yet again until we both collapse. We have tears rolling down our cheeks.
“Some of these people are crazy Pyper! What women do they think they are going to attract by saying these things? I don’t get it! Does this stuff actually work for some women? ”
“Wait… what are you saying? You aren’t totally turned on right now?”
Giggling I reply, “Oh you caught me. I just didn’t want to admit it. I’m totally going to need a date with my vibrator after this guy’s profile! He can liberate my pleasure wave?! Ohhhh baby!”
We top off our wine and keep giggling.
“Okay, so come on, Olivia, all the crazies aside, look at this guy.” This time she turns her computer to show me a twenty-seven year old, drop dead gorgeous prospect. His eyes almost look gray, and he has the five o’clock look going on - stubble along his chin that is just asking to be touched. His nose is slightly crooked, but he could seriously be a model. He’s identified himself as Ethan.
“Woah, he’s cute.”
“And look, his answer to the featured question is actually normal.”
“What am I doing with my life? His answer is ‘I’m an attorney that stays very busy with work but I’m looking for a special someone to share my spare time with. She would understand that I’m driven in my career but that I also enjoy an active lifestyle. I enjoy rock climbing, playing basketball and going to the movies.’ Very nice. Now this is the kind of profile that I can get on board with. He doesn’t appear to be a lunatic… Or talk about pleasure waves.”
“Me too. Good answer from Ethan. Okay Olivia, we have to fill out our profiles now!”
I laugh. “You still want to do this?”
“Of course! You aren’t scared off by just a couple loony tunes are you?”
“Okay, why not? I doubt anyone will even pay attention to my profile. Look, it shows they have over 3 million users worldwide. That’s insane!” I realize there’s a buzz in the sound system or something. Or perhaps, it’s the wine. No biggie. This is a really good idea. Why didn’t I do this before? Pyper has such excellent ideas and I need to take her advice more. She’s such a good friend. In fact, if she suggested that I dance naked around the living room right now, I would…no hesitation…
We start filling out all the required information. Our zip code, then if we are interested in a male or female. I hesitate and then enter male. Our name, age and birth date is already pre-filled after filling out the username and password previously, so we only need to write a mini bio about ourselves and the type of man we are looking for. Then we can add answers to all kinds of questions, but quickly discuss that option and decide to just complete the bio for now. Keep it simple.
“Pyper I have no clue what to put here!”
“I have an idea! How about we write each other’s profiles? Then we exchange and have to approve them before we post them; okay?”
“I think that is a great idea! You know me better than I know myself! I’ll go first.” I take Pyper’s computer from her and speak out loud as I type, “I’m not interested in most guys, I’m not one to fall for just anyone and so it makes those that I do connect with all the more special. I’m a fiery redhead that isn’t afraid to share her opinion. I’m not offended by a dirty joke and can dish out plenty of my own. I have a tendency to curse like a sailor when really angry, and while I’m not a feminist, I am definitely independent. I own a spa and am completely capable of taking care of myself. I’m not looking for some guy to come in and sweep me off my feet, but instead want a partner that I can share my life with and isn’t threatened by an intelligent woman. Sarcasm is the spice of life, so bring it on! I hope to meet you, but if you can’t handle any of the above description, don’t bother!”
“What do you think?”
/>
Pyper doesn’t even hesitate before she says, “I like it! It’s me, for sure. Okay, my turn.”
She grabs my computer and starts typing, “Happy, healthy, fun-loving, I’m looking for a great guy. I love laughing, writing, my kindle, honesty, music, foodgasms, handbags, kisses, coffee, road trips and kindness. Lots of kindness. I dislike calories, bugs, dishonesty, tomatoes, doing laundry, poor grammar, and alarm clocks. I like to walk with no destination in mind and love the sun on my face. I would do anything for my friends and family, think way too much about the order of my Netflix queue, and believe in kismet. You should message me if you are likely to be as happy spending a Sunday lazing away in bed as you would going outdoors and being active, if you like breakfast foods, believe in romance, and are a handsome, ambitious and courageous guy who keeps his commitments.”
“Well… how’s that?”
“Perfect! Like I said… you know me well!”
“Okay so next up, we have to post pictures. Let’s take snap shots of each other!” We pull out our phones and begin to snap pictures of each other smiling and laughing like we are models on a photo shoot. We plug our phones into the computer and begin uploading them so we can turn around and post them to our profiles. I took a really good one of Pyper mid laugh and another one of her smiling while looking straight at me. Her eyes are shining and she looks happy. I see that Pyper captured a good one of me with my head slightly turned to the side, laughing, and another, where I’m looking straight at her. My cheeks are slightly flushed from the wine and my eyes may be slightly glassy, but all in all, the pictures are fine. We decide on our monthly payment plan, upload our pictures, set our notification preferences, and voila! We are now officially on a dating site.
“I can’t believe we actually did this! I have to admit it was a lot of fun. I guess the worst that can happen is that I get a free dinner right?”
“Right!” Pyper readily agrees. “It says our profile will be active in a couple hours. I can’t wait to see what kind of response we get.”
I just smile at her. “So, tomorrow is Sunday, do you have to go into the spa at all tomorrow?”
“Yes, I should drop in briefly. I need to make sure the remainder of the product display was set up in the gift shop. My parents are expecting us for a late lunch. That’s still okay with you, right? They are really anxious to see you.”
I smile, thinking of Pyper’s parents. Her dad, Ted, is a great guy who loves to spoil his only child. Nothing is too much or out of reach when it comes to her. Pyper learned long ago to indulge him because he’s going to do what he wants, no matter what. Pyper’s mom, May, is actually her step-mom, but they married when Pyper was so young, she considers May her mother. Pyper’s mother, Audrey, died from cancer when Pyper was five years old, so she doesn’t really remember her. I’ve seen pictures of her though, and Pyper looks just like her; the same red hair and blue eyes. May has been a wonderful mother to Pyper, and they adore one another. They both are like my adoptive parents and Pyper is my sister in every way, except without the fighting and sibling rivalry. I spent just as much time at Pyper’s house growing up as she did mine.
“Of course! I can’t wait to see them too. It has been so long. I need to work on my article for Style Incorporated tomorrow, and do a blog post on ‘Pink Sugar Couture’ as well. I’m going to organize my closet a little better, too. I unpacked in a hurry so I could paint, so I want to fix the mess I made. I will be ready when you are though.”
Pyper smiles at me knowingly and then laughs. “Anal Olivia,” she sing songs, “making sure the closet is perfect,” she giggles. Apparently she is feeling the wine as well.
“Shut up. There is nothing wrong with making sure all the things are…with the right things….” I laugh at the fact that I’m having trouble putting the right words together.
Pyper snorts, “Yes, all the things should be together. So tell me, miss fashion blogger extraordinaire, what articles are you working on for the magazine and blog?”
“Marc Jacobs just had his style show for his fall catalogue so I’m doing a write-up about it for the magazine and my blog post is going to be a bunch of different fashion tips. My followers love them, so I try to do one every few months or so.”
“Oooh I love those posts too! Fun! I bet I could come up with some good ones for you.”
“No doubt about it, let’s hear one,” I challenge.
Pyper takes a moment to think about it and says, “Umm, how about, don’t wear rompers unless you want to look like a baby wearing a onesie.” Pyper lifts her chin up at the end of her statement showing how proud she is of her advice.
“Nice. I’m impressed. Can I steal that one?”
“But of course, my dear. I aim to please.”
My response to that is a very lady-like snort.
“I still can’t believe how your blog just took off, it’s so exciting,” Pyper says with a wink.
“Yes, very exciting. I love it! Well, I am off to get changed and get my butt in bed before I drink anymore of this wine and become incoherent and am unable to function tomorrow.”
“Okay, I will text you tomorrow when I’m leaving the spa,” Pyper tells me through a yawn. No doubt she’s on her way to bed as well.
“Sounds good. I know I’ve said this a lot the past few weeks, but I’m really happy to be here. Thanks again.”
“No thanking me. I am beyond happy to have you here.”
We hug each another and I head to my room.
After I change my clothes for bed, I cuddle up in my crisp, new sheets and grin at the cool sensation of my pillow cases. I love my new white down comforter; it looks like one continuous ruffle. It was quite expensive, but is so pretty. I complemented the white with aqua and royal blue throw pillows, and a throw blanket. I love it all. I know I’m in Chicago, but it looks beachy. I snuggle down in bed but can’t fall asleep. Somewhere in between being awake and not yet quite asleep, my subconscious resurrects long-forgotten memories. As the reel begins to run, another part of my mind questions if being in Illinois again is making these memories surface.
I can’t wait to see him. I am going to miss him so much while he’s in California on vacation with his family. I wish they could have gone earlier, rather than the last couple weeks of summer. There’s so much to do before we head off to college together. Oh well. Let’s enjoy the moment. We have a romantic day planned. We’re going to bask in the presence of each other before he leaves me tomorrow for two weeks. Two weeks that will feel like a lifetime. It will be okay; we have the whole year planned—I’m so eager to begin this next part of our relationship. Two weeks is nothing. Instead, I’ll concentrate on the picnic I’m packing for us to enjoy by our favorite tree…our special tree.
One night, not long after we started dating we went for a walk around my neighborhood. At the end of a dead end street is a field, and in the middle of the field all by itself stood a tall oak tree. It looked completely out of place yet, exactly perfect at the same time. Like it had been previously rehearsed, without speaking a word, we walked to the tree and sat and talked for hours. Now, going there and chatting is a favorite pastime; a good habit. It’s our tree. Luke even carved our initials in it. ‘L loves O.’ I smile, thinking of the day he carved that little love note and spent hours kissing me senseless up against the tree. Luke’s kisses set me on fire from head to toe. Once he started, I never wanted him to stop. And a few times we hadn’t stopped.
I smile secretly to myself, thinking about the tree and those intimate occasions. I have no regrets. That boy is everything to me. I want him to know how much I love him, how he makes me feel, and how I want to be with him, always. He has branded himself on every part of me, heart, body, and soul. I can’t imagine myself without him and I don’t ever want to. He’s the other part of me.
As I’m finishing packing our picnic lunch, my phone beeps, letting me know I’ve just gotten a text message.
Luke – Babe, something came up at home. Running late. Will
leave here in the next 20 minutes or so!
I wonder what came up, but don’t think twice about it. I’m just anxious to see him. I grab the picnic basket, head to my car, and start driving the fifteen minutes to Luke’s place. He can’t come get me yet, no worries, I will just go there and wait for him, pick him up. No sense in making him waste time driving. I want each and every minute we can squeeze in together. I pull up to his home, drive up the driveway, and park. I practically skip to the front door, knock. Pearl, the housekeeper opens the door. “Hi dear. Come on in.”
“Thanks Pearl.” Pearl has worked for the Easton family a long time. She’s used to seeing me come and go, and has always been very kind to me. Once I’m inside, I start to head up the stairs to Luke’s room, assuming he’s there, but Pearl tells me she thinks he’s in the kitchen. I retreat back down the few steps I had taken and walk down the long hallway, aware of voices – intense, louder than normal conversation. I look behind me, but Pearl is no longer there. I think I hear Luke’s voice and start to enter into the kitchen but just as I’ve cracked the door, the louder voice stops me in my tracks. It’s Luke’s mom.
“Luke, I know you are serious about this girl and I don’t like it one bit. You are far too young to be in a committed relationship already. You have your whole life ahead of you, and I’m not about to let you settle for the first girl you had a crush on. I get that she seemed like enough while you were in high school, but you are going to college soon.”
“Mom, it isn’t like that.”
“Don’t lie to me, Luke Xavier Easton. I see the way you look at her. I already told your dad that instead of going to Loyola University just because that girl is going there, you should go to Northwestern University, like we had talked about at one time. I don’t think it is a good idea at all that the two of you go to the same school. She’ll drag you down; keep you from realizing your potential, interfere with your studies. I’m not going to allow you to let some girl get in the way of your future.”
Pretty Little Lies Page 5
