Married This Year

by Tracey Pedersen

  She groaned as she pulled her phone out of her bag. “Maybe this was a terrible idea. I was really drunk when I said I wanted to get married. Maybe it was because Shelly got engaged and because my mother never stops asking me when it’s going to happen.”

  “Drunk people speak the truth, like kids,” Andrea stated.

  Shelly flicked through the screens and laughed as they all watched. “You were drunk, Jordan—your spelling is awful. This is like when people send drunk texts to their exes.” She laughed again as she read the list and corrected some of the items. “This is a truly fun plan. Even if you don’t find a husband, you’re going to have some great stories to tell about the whole experience. You should write it on your blog. Single women everywhere would lap it up, especially if it gets juicy.”

  “No blogging. I blog enough for work without having to document my dating life, too.”

  “Come on, if it’s juicy enough, you could get a movie offer.”

  “Yeah, a porn extravaganza. No, thank you; that’s definitely not on the list.”

  “Okay, keep your hair on—it was only an idea. Did you set up your profiles on those dating sites you downloaded?”

  “Not yet. I don’t know what to write.”

  Andrea piped up, “Let me curate your Tinder profile. I know exactly how to do it so you get the best swipes.”

  “What does that even mean? Don’t you upload your photo and write some zany details about yourself?”

  “No way!” Andrea looked horrified. “You need to make sure your photos are in the right order, from best to worst. You have a dog, so that can totally work to your advantage. We’ll set it up perfectly, so you get only great guys swiping right. I promise I’m the master at this.”

  “Why are you still single, then? I knew Tinder was just for hook-ups!”

  “Let’s not judge it before you’ve tried it, okay? If you hate it, you can delete the app and never use it again, but if you like it…” Andrea let her words hang in the air.

  Shelly’s phone beeped and she glanced at it as she spoke to them. “I think you need to add one more thing to that list.”

  “What? I’m scared to even ask.” Jordan considered giving up the whole idea as a bad joke born of too much alcohol and a tiny amount of best friend wedding jealousy.

  “You need to decide that, no matter what happens, you’re not going to give up. You’re going to see this through for the whole year, and no matter how bleak it might look, you’ll keep going with it.”

  Jordan sighed. “Fine.” She held up her middle three fingers and her friends laughed. “I hereby swear that I’ll pursue every avenue to find my perfect man, get myself married, and get my mother off my case—Scout’s honour, even though I’m not now, nor have I ever been, a Scout.”

  Emily clapped her hands and then clutched her head. Andrea handed her a paracetamol packet from her handbag, and they nattered on for the rest of the afternoon about their various plans for the coming week.

  Jordan knew, as she sat there, listening to them joking and laughing, that things would never be the same once they each got married. It was, however, a chance she was still desperate to take.

  January

  Jordan sat in the coffee shop downstairs the next day, fiddling with her Tinder app. Andrea had shown her how to use it after they’d set up her profile, and now she found herself agonising over her swiping choices. It was hard to believe so many people had registered on this site and were “looking for love.” What ever happened to meeting someone socially and finding out that they were the right one for you?

  You already tried that. Have your forgotten Fish, already?

  She hadn’t forgotten him. She’d mostly tried to put him out of her mind the minute she’d dropped him at the club yesterday.

  That doesn’t count—I was drunk. Her own thoughts taunted her. Yes, that’s what can happen when you meet someone socially.

  An older gentleman drew Jordan’s attention across the room as he motioned to the server. He waved his arms and cleared his throat until he had her standing by his table. “I’d like to order a coffee, please, Merrill.”

  “Oh, we don’t have table service, sir. You need to order at the counter and listen for your name.” She went to move away, but he spoke again.

  “Merrill, I came here because I want to get some work done. I can’t be leaving my table and my computer unattended each time I want a coffee. You understand, dear.” He smiled at her, expecting that she would now take his order.

  “I do know what you mean, sir. Unfortunately, we don’t employ staff for table service. I’m sure your computer will be fine here, though. Several other people work in this café, and it’s never an issue.” She smiled pleasantly at him.

  “Merrill, do you have a manager onsite?” His tone held the slightest threat, and Jordan watched as the waitress squared her shoulders and took a deep breath before turning to address him again.

  “My name is Cindy—Cindy Merrill. It’s right here on my name badge, which for some odd reason, you appear to be reading backward.” She spoke in a firm voice, and anyone else could see that she planned to take no prisoners. “I am the owner here, and we do not offer table service. Please order at the counter.” She smiled a steely smile and retreated behind the counter. The gentleman looked annoyed, and he quickly packed up his computer and huffed out the door.

  Jordan grinned as she heard her own name called. As the owner handed her her coffee, she couldn’t resist making a joke. “I’m going to call you Merrill from now on, if that’s okay, Merrill?” Cindy’s eyes widened until she saw the smile on Jordan’s face.

  “You’ll do no such thing, Jordan Parker. If you call me Merrill even one time, I’ll put your rent up!” The two women laughed and Jordan returned to her seat in the corner.

  She opened Tinder again and swiped right on a couple of pleasant-looking men. Not for the first time, she wished they’d added some physical features to the list of must-haves. That would have made it so much easier to eliminate men from her potential list of suitors. Andrea had joked yesterday about adding a clause about potential suitors being much older than her, but from what she’d seen of Merrill’s customer this morning, age didn’t make people more suitable, either.

  She read the profile of an attractive man who said he loved dogs, cats, and kids. Her finger hovered over the screen as she sipped her coffee.

  Stuff it, just swipe. Andrea says you can block them later, if they’re awful.

  Her finger swiped right and she sat back in her chair to wait. Several minutes passed… and nothing. There was no notification of a match, like Andrea had said would pop up.

  Maybe it’s not working.

  She checked her settings and decided everything looked fine. It was time to swipe on someone else. Over the next fifteen minutes, she swiped right on eight different men. After a couple of minutes, her screen filled with notifications of a match, and she felt like she was getting the hang of it. She knew she was supposed to send messages to those she had matched with, but she felt awkward to be the one to go first. As she was pondering whether she’d be brave and message someone, a message popped up from one of the men.

  HEY LADY, YOU SO PRETTY. WHAT U DOIN ON TINDER.

  Oh, dear. What do I do now? Is it wrong to feel like you don’t gel with someone after two seconds of reading their message?

  Reminding herself that this was an app and she wasn’t obliged to answer someone based on a match, she closed the window and moved to the next message she’d received.

  HI, THERE. HOW ARE YOU?

  It seemed a lot less confrontational, and she felt confident answering. She sent a generic message saying she was great and asking how he was. She sipped her coffee and worried for the thousandth time that this was a bad idea. Andrea said she had hundreds of matches, but Jordan didn’t want to be messaging hundreds of guys at a time. How would she keep them all straight in her head?

  She decided to choose one man to send a message to from the gro
up that had matched with her. She was a modern woman, after all, and she couldn’t sit and wait for all of them to make the first move. Scrolling through the list, she settled on a man whose photo was of him with a dog. Dogs should give them some common ground, right? Andrea had said dogs were good.

  She sent a message asking if he’d been on Tinder long, and then she closed the app and concentrated on her coffee. Jordan felt lame and maybe a bit desperate. Before she could consider deleting the app, however, it buzzed with another message. Groaning, she reached for the phone and checked the screen.

  NOT VERY LONG. HOW ABOUT MEETING FOR COFFEE AND I’LL TELL YOU ALL ABOUT MY ADVENTURES IN PERSON?

  He wants to meet! What the hell do I do now? Meet him, of course. Isn’t that the whole point of this exercise?

  Her finger hovered over screen as she struggled to make a decision. Picturing Andrea laughing at her if she chickened out, she messaged him back to meet her at ten o’clock in this coffee shop. That would make it easy for her, since she could come downstairs at the appointed time and then nip upstairs when they were done.

  It was only eight now, so she had time to have a shower and get ready. She saw that she had three more messages asking if she’d like to meet for coffee, and she was sure that was a bad sign, since it was the first contact they’d made with her. Her list of rules said she had to accept all offers, though, which meant she had to meet these guys once before discounting them. Tapping out messages to them, she arranged to meet them at eleven, twelve, and one o’clock. They were all an hour apart—surely an hour was enough time to grab a coffee and discover if you liked someone enough to take it further?

  ***

  Right on ten, she sat at her favourite table in the corner of the café. She could see everyone coming and going, and she’d be able to see each of her dates before they saw her. The only downside to this plan was that she had no way to escape if she saw them and decided she wanted to run. Running was against the rules, anyway, she reminded herself as she sipped her cold water. She’d already decided to limit her coffee intake, since she had to meet four separate men today. She’d be wired if she drank coffee with all of them and then had more in between!

  Her first suitor appeared in the doorway of the coffee shop, and she knew straight away that they weren’t going to get along. He was a foot shorter than his profile stated and his photo had apparently been quite old—at least ten years old, judging by the man who appeared at her table with his hand outstretched.

  “Hi, there. Jordan, is it?”

  “That’s right,” she held out her hand. “You’re Bob?” Jordan asked as he sat in the chair opposite her, not bothering to introduce himself. He seemed oblivious to the fact that there was a chance he wasn’t the only date she had today.

  “I am. Can I buy you a coffee?”

  “Actually, I’m going to stick with water, if you don’t mind.” She smiled as he stood. “I’ve already had two this morning and I like to limit myself.”

  “Or,” he paused as he looked down at her, “you’re not planning on staying long.”

  She blushed at his veiled accusation. “No, that’s not it at all. I don’t want to have too much caffeine.”

  He sighed and glanced at the counter before looking back at her. “Listen, I know a blow-off when I hear it. I’ll put you out of your misery and go.” With that, he turned and walked out of the café, not even turning to see Jordan’s mouth hanging open.

  Her surprise was hard to hide as she stood from the table and took the stairs two by two to her apartment. She leaned against the front door as it closed behind her and wondered if she’d had a lucky escape.

  What on Earth am I doing?

  Feeling an overwhelming desire to cancel the other three dates, she launched herself into vacuuming and cleaning the apartment. Forty minutes later, she checked her makeup and steeled herself to go downstairs and take up her usual position.

  Her usual table was occupied, however, and she glanced around for the next best option. The only vacant tables were right next to the door, so she slipped reluctantly into a chair at one of those. She didn’t order a drink, not wanting to upset the next man who arrived for their coffee date. Right at eleven, he arrived and walked straight past her. He stood at the counter, placing his coffee order, as she tried to catch his attention.

  He turned with his coffee and headed for the door, but she stepped in front of him. “Hey, Brett, aren’t you going to stay?” He looked surprised at her words and stopped dead.

  “Umm… I’m Luke, not Brett.”

  “Oh, really? Are you sure you’re not trying to get out of here without meeting me?” Her eyes flashed as she accused him. “What’s with you men today?” Shaking her head, she took a step back. “Go—just go. I give up.”

  He watched as she plopped into her chair with a defeated sigh. Frowning, he slipped into the seat opposite her. “Who do you think I am? My name really is Luke, and I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “You look exactly like the guy I’m meant to meet from Tinder. His profile says his name is Brett.”

  “We must look similar, then, I guess. Wait, you’re on Tinder?” He looked her up and down with an incredulous look on his face before meeting her eyes again. “Sorry, you surprised me. I may have to try that app out, after all.”

  She blushed a deep red as the couple next to them watched with interest. Jordan had tried so hard to keep Tinder a secret from the people she saw occasionally in the shop, and now complete strangers were hearing all about it.

  “Well, it was kind of a bet.” She caught herself before she explained the whole idea to him. “Anyway, never mind. I’m sorry to bother you.” She pulled out her phone, berating herself for being so stupid. Why didn’t she sit there, wait, and go home if he didn’t show? He did look like the elusive Brett, though, she told herself, as she opened his profile again.

  Luke was still sitting at her table, and she turned her phone to show him, “Ha! It is you, look.”

  He leaned forward and looked at her phone. “Holy shit—that’s my Facebook photo. It’s not my Tinder profile, though, I can promise you. Can I see?” He held out his hand and she passed him the phone. “I cannot believe someone is using my Facebook photo to pick up women. How is that even possible? I thought you had to link to Facebook to be able to start a Tinder account?”

  “Oh, so you’re not on Tinder, but you know what you have to do to open an account? That’s telling.” She rolled her eyes. “Why don’t you just admit that it’s you and you weren’t interested enough to stay and meet me?”

  “Believe me, if I had a date with you, I would not stand you up.” He grinned, but she was unconvinced. “Let’s look up that guy on Facebook. What’s his last name?”

  “Stephens.”

  “Okay, Brett Stephens, what are you doing using a hot specimen like me for your profile?” he muttered as he searched on his phone. Jordan couldn’t help but smile; he had seemed genuinely surprised at her reaction to him not being Brett. “Ahh… there you go. He has a whole profile on Facebook with several of my photos.” He handed her his phone and grinned as he stretched back in his seat and linked his hands behind his head. “Brett obviously thinks I’m hot enough to attract the ladies for him. I wonder why he hasn’t shown up to confess to his crimes?”

  She hated the way he was laughing at her while at the same time being wildly pleased with himself. “I think it’s time I quit Tinder. This has turned out to be one disaster after another.” She picked up her handbag and slipped her phone into the side pocket. “I’m so sorry I accosted you. What are the chances of you showing up here on the day I’m meant to meet someone who says they are you?”

  “Creepy coincidence, I reckon,” he said, standing when she did. Before she could slip past him and up the stairs, he spoke again, “Listen, I’ll make you a deal. If your next date turns out to be a dud, call me and I’ll take you out.” He handed her his business card and she slipped it into her bag without looking a
t it, as her brain furiously thought over his offer.

  “Are you asking me out?”

  “Nope, I’m offering to take you out if the next guy is shit. Kind of a sympathy date. Deal?”

  Dammit. If he’d asked me out, I would have had to say yes because of the rules. Why couldn’t he have said yes?

  “I guess. I’m sure I can’t strike out three times in a row, though, so don’t expect to hear from me. I’m worth more than a sympathy date.”

  “True. My loss. See you ‘round.” He, his cheeky grin, and his coffee disappeared out the door, and she watched him walk to a pushbike chained around a street sign.

  God dammit, he rides a bike. No car means he doesn’t meet the list requirements. That’s a shame, a naughty voice whispered in her ear. His bum looks amazing in those jeans.

  ***

  As the clock hands crept toward one o’clock, Jordan examined herself in the mirror. She’d scrubbed the bathroom and her house was now spotless.

  This dating business is sure great for getting my chores done. I should have thought of it sooner.

  She brushed her hair and tied it into a tight ponytail before going in search of her keys for the fourth time today. As she descended to the ground floor, she said a silent prayer for the universe to send her a decent guy. The fourth time would have to be the charm, because her third date had turned out to be crazy.

  He’d brought his dog along, which she’d thought was a nice touch, until he’d insisted they sit right near the window so his “baby” could see him. He’d gotten up no less than ten times to get items for the dog. First it was water, and then a request to Cindy for something the dog could eat. After that, he’d moved the dog into the shade, went out to check that its collar wasn’t too tight, and chased off a small boy who wanted to pat the animal. By that point, Jordan had had enough and she excused herself, citing another appointment. Her date had cheerfully grinned at her, said goodbye, and rushed out to the dog. The last she saw of him, he was carrying it up the street and letting it lick his mouth.