Pretty Little Lies

by Jennifer Miller

  No one says anything. It was easy enough to follow. I quickly do the math in my head. Five minutes with fifteen guys, with one minute in between each date means almost ninety minutes of dating. Piece of cake. I can handle ninety minutes.

  “Okay, since no one has any questions we will begin in approximately five minutes. If you don’t have a drink and would like one, get one now to have at your table, if you’d like. Once we begin, we will not stop for a break, other than the sixty seconds in between each date.”

  I look at my glass of wine. Yep, time for a refill. I quickly drink what’s left in my glass and head to the bar to grab another glass to take to my table with me. While I’m waiting in line behind other people who obviously have the same idea as me, Pyper comes up next to me just as I am ordering another glass of Riesling, and she looks at me disapprovingly. I think she’s going to say something, but she doesn’t. I feel fine, relaxed even. And okay, things are suddenly pretty hilarious, but I don’t know what her problem is. She wanted me to have a good time, didn’t she?

  “Okay, everyone, please head to your assigned tables so we may begin.”

  “Good luck!” I say with a cheery wave and big smile to Pyper. This time, when she looks at me, I see concern briefly register on her face, but I just keep smiling as I head to my table.

  As I approach, there is someone sitting at my table already, his name tag reads ‘Sam.’ He has light brown hair, glasses, and is dressed in khaki pants and a white dress shirt. I’m rather surprised I don’t see a pocket protector in his shirt pocket. Nothing about him really stands out at me, to be honest. I don’t feel an immediate connection or anything when our eyes meet. Bummer. Too bad I can’t just yell out “NEXT!”

  “Hello!” I say. I think I may have been kind of loud. Oops.

  He startles, and somewhat shyly says, “Hello.”

  I set my speeding ticket and pen on the table, set my handbag at my feet and take a seat. I smile broadly at Sam. He seems a bit taken back. Hmm, I kind of feel like maybe my smile is reminiscent of the Joker, but I’m sure I’m imagining it. I’m just nervous.

  Abby is at the podium again, “Okay everyone on the count of one please press your bell to start the timer. Three…two….one.” Sam and I both reach out to press the bell at the same time. I push his hand out of the way and slam my hand on the top. “And go!” I say.

  He smiles at me again somewhat hesitantly and asks, “So how long have you lived in Chicago? Were you born here, or did you move here?”

  “Oh, well, I grew up here, and after I got my heart broken by someone I thought loved me, I ran away to Boston to attend college where I lived for five years. Then after I went through a nasty divorce to a guy I shouldn’t have married to begin with, I came back here to live with my best friend, Pyper. She’s over there.” I tell him, making a halfhearted attempt to wave behind me. Then I take another swallow of my wine.

  “Oh, well. How…nice, I guess.” He mutters.

  I snort at him. Nice? Not hardly.

  “How about you, Sam?” I ask and I’m pretty sure I hissed the ‘S’ like a snake.

  “I was born and raised in Chicago. I went to college for website design, and right after I graduated I got a job with Websites R Us and enjoy creating websites for several clients. It keeps me busy.”

  “Oh, so you’re a techy geek huh?”

  “Umm, I prefer the title internet designer.”

  “I’m sure you do.” I think this is going well. This is easy. “What do you like to do in your spare time?”

  He clears his throat, “Well, I enjoy taking walks in the park with my dog. I have a yellow lab named Goldie.”

  I interrupt, “Wow, that’s original.” I say, deadpanned. Okay, kind of rude on my part, but really? Lame name.

  “Well, actually, my six-year-old niece named her.”

  “Oh. Well that’s awesome!” Way to go Olivia! You just insulted his niece. You rock at this. “How many nieces and nephews do you have?”

  “I have four. Two nieces and two nephews. Do you have any?”

  “Nope. I’m an only child.”

  “Oh.” We just stare at each other for a few seconds. Then a few seconds more. And a few more. Wow. This is awkward. Maybe I should get up and sing and dance?

  He clears his throat again and just as he’s about to ask me another question a bell rings signaling the end of our date. Thank God.

  “Well Olivia, it was umm interesting meeting you.”

  “Hey, you too, Sam. You have a good night, and good luck or whatever!”

  He stands and steps away from the table. Turning to my speeding ticket, taking full advantage of the sixty seconds, I check STOP next to Sam’s name. I’m not gonna lie. Sam was boring and I don’t really have a website I need designed, so I don’t see an advantage here. I’m sure Sam thinks that went well though. I’m sure I at least got a MAYBE from him. Go me! I’ve totally got this. I am an amazing speed dater. I should get a button. Or a medal.

  I look back at Pyper, catch her eye and give her two thumbs up. Before she can respond I turn back around.

  “Please head to your next table, men,” Abby says. Walking towards me with a swagger that shows his confidence, this guy has blond hair, blue eyes and is wearing jeans and a light pink polo shirt. He looks like he is well-built. His arms are muscular, and I can see the definition of his chest through his shirt. Nice. The man has to be comfortable with himself to wear that color. His nametag reads Kip.

  “Hi Olivia,” He says while looking at my name tag a bit too long, or is he looking at my boobs? Oh no, not again. Been there done that with Daniel.

  “Hello Kip, nice to meet ya.”

  “Okay everyone, let’s get ready. Three….two…one.”

  I let Kip ring the bell, beginning our five minutes.

  “So tell me about yourself, Olivia.”

  “Okay, sure.” I’m good at this part! “Hi, my name is Olivia Brooks. I’m twenty-five years-old and I am a journalist. Don’t let that fool you though, the only hard hitting topics I cover are whether or not harem pants are coming back in style, and if eyelash curlers really work. But I love it.” I smile. I really do love it. “I divorced my asshat of a husband when I came home and found him screwing some blonde whore in our bed. What a day that was! Despite his begging, I moved back here to live with my best friend so I can try to get some semblance of a life back.” Suddenly I feel a little choked up. “She’s a really great friend. I don’t know what I would do without her.” I sniffle and take another large swallow of my wine. What is wrong with me? Why did I just tell him all of that? Oh well, I’m sharing… this is good. Right?

  “Do you happen to have a tissue, Kip?”

  “Uh, no, sorry, I can see if I can get you one.”

  “No that’s okay.” I wipe my nose on my hand and sniffle again. Sexy.

  “Wow, okay so that’s quite a lot to take in there, Olivia.”

  “Don’t I know it, Kip. What about you? What’s your story?”

  “Well I’m afraid mine isn’t as interesting as yours Olivia. I moved here when I was accepted to Northwestern University, where I went to study engineering. I have never been married and I really enjoy my job as an engineer. I work a lot, but in my spare time I enjoy playing racquetball at my gym to keep in shape, doing the crossword puzzle in the Sunday paper, and eating good food.”

  “Cool.”

  He just laughs at me.

  I can’t help but ask, “Tell me then, why are you here? Can’t you get a date without coming to one of these things? I’m here because my so-called best friend roped me into coming.”

  “Outside of work, I’m not involved in many things that allow me to meet other women. I’ve already dated the single possibilities employed at my work place, and they didn’t work out. I’m tired of my friends trying to set me up, too. I thought this would be a perfect meat market, if you know what I mean.” He winks at me. For real. You can’t make this shit up.

  “Meat market?”
>
  He just shrugs and grins at me, his eyes piercing mine. Is he kidding me?

  I take another drink of my wine. I’m ready to be done with this now. This is stupid. I wonder how Pyper is getting along. I hear her laugh from time to time.

  “Well Kip, it sure was nice meeting you. Best of luck to you on your dating endeavors.” I lift up my wine glass and say a toast, “May you find your lucky lady here tonight, and never have to come to another one of these ridiculous things again.”

  He laughs, “Thanks, Olivia. You too.”

  A bell rings. I have the best timing. I am so amazing with this speed dating stuff. End of date two. I grab my paper and next to Kip’s name check the STOP box. I also put a brief description, engineer, blonde, asshole, meat market. Brilliant note taking on my speeding ticket.

  My next several speed dates are unremarkable. I’m pretty sure I mentioned Deacon more times than I care to admit. I remember at some point, someone did manage to track down a Kleenex for me, and I’m pretty sure I even told an embarrassing story about a wet t-shirt contest I was in once, and about making out with a girl in college on a dare. I continue to rock this speed dating thing. If they gave out grades, I would get an A+ for sure.

  A man named Adam is sitting at my table now. He’s a really good looking guy. He has dark hair, dark eyes, and dark glasses. The glasses make him look hot. I think he knows it though, so that takes him down a few notches in my book.

  “What is your favorite color?” I’m surprised by his question.

  “Pink,” I answer. “And yours?”

  “Yellow.” I like that answer. Yellow is a good color. Bright. Cheerful. Sunny.

  My turn, “Favorite movie?”

  “Die Hard.”

  “Ugh. That is such a guy movie.”

  Laughing at my response he asks me, “What is your favorite movie?”

  “The Princess Bride,” I answer. That movie is hilarious. I can watch it over and over again.

  He smirks. Something about him makes me uneasy, but I don’t know what it is. He reminds me of something. Or someone. “What is an important quality you look for in a man?”

  “That’s easy. I want him to not be a cheating bastard liar.” Am I slurring slightly? “Are you a cheating bastard liar, Adam? Because I have to be honest, I’m pretty sure that all men are. Very few have any redeeming qualities. They make promises and don’t follow through. That’s my experience with men, Adam. Is that how you are, Adam? Hmm? How many women’s hearts have you broken? How many women have you lied to?”

  Again with the smirk. “I’ve never done that, princess. What would make you think I would ever break a woman’s heart? I’m just here looking for someone that has interests similar to mine and wants to hang out.” He smiles. It’s a smarmy smile. It seems like he’s just saying the words but doesn’t mean them. I lose it. I don’t know if it is the endearment ‘princess’ or his attitude that is to blame, but I snap just the same.

  “You’ve never done that? That’s what they all say.” I stand up, grab my wine glass, and drain it. “THAT’S WHAT THEY ALL SAY!” I yell. I start yelling loud enough for everyone in the room to hear. “All you men are the same! You say whatever you think a woman wants to hear, until you get us right where you want us. Like a spider, you trap us in your web, then you keep the manipulations coming, wrapping us in your silk with your pretty little lies. You tell us we are beautiful, that you want to be with us forever, you tell us we are your everything, you say all you want is to spend your life loving us, BUT YOU LIE. YOU ALL LIE.” I hear glass shattering. I think I dropped my wine glass.

  Pyper rushes to my side and tries to speak urgently in my ear, but I brush her off. I’m not finished.

  “Run while you can ladies. Do you hear me? Run. Don’t let them fool you with their suave moves, nice words, and what you think are their good intentions, because you will be hurt. You will be hurt over and over again, and they will take everything from you. They will steal your heart, your soul, and your mind until you feel like you can’t breathe from the pain of it. Just when you think their work is done, that they can’t possibly take anything else, you realize the pure devastating confusion that comes from feeling like you can’t live without them. Even after what they’ve done. Even when they’ve left you broken, a shell of the person you used to be. PROTECT YOURSELF LADIES!”

  Pyper is pulling on my arm now, and I’m pretty sure I hear her apologize. I’m too busy looking at the faces around me. Some are staring at me, wide eyed, others are smirking at me, some are giggling to themselves. Why aren’t they listening?

  “WHY AREN’T YOU LISTENING?” I begin to sob, wiping my face on my sleeve.

  “Come on, Livvie. It’s okay. I’m listening to you. You’re right. Let’s go, honey, okay? It’s okay. It’s over. Whatever set you off babe, it’s over. Let’s go.” She talks to me soothingly over and over like I’m a child.

  “You believe me don’t you Pyper? Men will just hurt you. They’ll make your soul bleed.”

  “I know Olivia. Come on, let’s go home. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

  I take her arm, “Don’t apologize Pyper, you didn’t do anything.”

  “I’m just sorry you’re hurting.”

  She walks me out of the room, down the hall, and to the front doors. Pyper leads me towards my car, helps me in, and even buckles my seatbelt. I think I see a tear fall from the corner of her eye.

  wake up to the smell of coffee. I crack my eyes open and I’m pretty sure the light in the room is going to render me blind. Dammit! I didn’t close the drapes again. As I start to wake more fully, the events of last night start to become clearer. Unfortunately. I remember breaking down after being called princess by a cocky asshole, and needing Pyper’s help to get home and into bed. Pyper was amazing as always, she helped me get undressed, made me drink some water, and even tucked me in. I owe her. Big.

  I open my eyes in a squint and see Pyper standing next to my bed, coffee in one hand and a bottle of ibuprofen in the other.

  “I figured you were going to need both of these this morning.”

  I sit up and it feels like my head is going to explode. “You are a saint.” The pain is so intense, I’m expecting my brain to start seeping out through my ears. Taking the bottle from Pyper’s hands, I open it, pop four tablets into my mouth, and take a sip of my coffee. I swallow the pills and wince.

  Pyper laughs softly, “It’s got a splash of vodka in there to help with the hangover.”

  “Thanks, Pyper. You are being way too nice to me after the way I acted last night. I am so sorry. I’m sorry I ruined your night, I’m sorry I drank too much, I’m sorry for embarrassing you.”

  “Olivia, first of all, I’m the one that is sorry. I shouldn’t have pushed you into doing something you didn’t want to do. Secondly, it is impossible for you to embarrass me. I didn’t know any of those people, and they mean nothing to me; you are everything to me, so screw them and their judgments.”

  She’s amazing. My best friend is unbelievable. I hope I’m as good to her as she is to me. I plan on making it my mission.

  “Olivia, if you don’t want to date, then you should have adamantly told me you didn’t want to do this. I know I’ve been pushing you, but I would never want you to feel forced and be angry with me. Your friendship and trust is more important to me than anything else.”

  I can’t help but sigh with the weight of my feelings. How do I explain this to her? “It’s not that I’m feeling really bad and I think this dating thing, even though it has been awful so far, is just what I need.” Pyper opens her mouth to comment, but I raise my hand silently asking her to wait a moment, “Pyper, I haven’t let myself just feel. Not once. Not with Luke, not with Deacon…I just keep pushing through every time. I’ve never just let it all out. With Luke, I ran as fast as I could and sure, I cried, but I never really let go. I never really let myself grieve over the loss of him in my life. I never allowed myself to feel sad or angry. Instead, I reacted.
I left, threw myself into school and partying, and tried to make it all disappear by marrying Deacon. And now with Deacon, I’m doing the same thing again. I just dealt with the business of ending my marriage and am determined to accept its finality. Sure, I saw a therapist, but only because I knew I should – it was the right thing to do. But then, I just focused on getting out of there. I’ve never truly allowed myself to react, to be angry, to just feel the pain and the loss.”

  I look at Pyper with tears in my eyes and see her own filling up. “Deacon has made me distrustful of men, but it’s more than that. I made such a bad decision by throwing myself into a marriage with him, that I can’t trust myself right now either. Sometimes Pyper, the reality of what I allowed my life to become is hard to swallow. It isn’t that I am still feeling pain from the ending of my relationship with Deacon. I don’t miss him or regret leaving, but I feel anger at myself for giving him power. He can’t make me feel anything, but I’m giving him power by letting his manipulations get to me.”

  Pyper reaches out and catches the tear I didn’t even realize was falling. “My therapist actually told me that this would happen eventually. She said I couldn’t suppress my feelings forever, and letting them out is part of the healing process and would allow me to move forward. Last night, even with all the wine, suddenly I had a moment of complete clarity. I saw very clearly what Deacon did to me. Adam was sitting at my table smirking at me like a complete douche, and when he called me ‘princess’ just like Deacon, I came unglued. I allowed myself to feel. Finally. The insecurity, the feelings of inadequacy, the fear that all men are the same, the anger I feel at myself, it all took on a life of its own. I think the atmosphere, the cocky guy at my table, and no doubt the wine made those feelings manifest and explode. Regardless, I think dating and meeting new people is exactly what I need. It’s good for me to be reminded that not everyone is like Deacon. I need to keep moving forward.”