A State of Jane (3 page)

I didn't understand why Nate's profile was now in my closed matches. There had to be an explanation. We had breezed through the entire process. I knew he was as anxious to meet me as I him. Firmly gripping my mouse, I held my breath and scanned the page until I saw it. Nate had closed me out earlier that day, citing “different values” as his reason. How was that possible?

Pacing my room, I nervously picked up clothes I had strewn across the floor that morning when I noticed that the black slacks I had intended to wear weren't as flattering as the last time I'd worn them. I had to try on three more pairs before finding ones that didn't emphasize my saddlebags. I vowed to add squats to my workout routine even though I hated them.

Different values? We shared almost all of the same must-haves and must not-haves! I reviewed his profile one more time. I wondered if I could write eHarmony and request a further explanation. I logged off my computer and fell back onto my bed. I couldn't possibly focus on studying after this disturbing turn of events.

My eyes closed, I took deep breaths in and out and pictured myself on the beach in Hawaii with my soul mate. I couldn't picture what he looked like, but it wasn't Nate. Maybe it was Andrew, Todd, or Christian but not Nate. And it was probably just as well. The right guy for me would never be so hasty as to assume our values were different based on a silly profile. God was doing me a favor by showing me Nate's true colors before we even met so I wouldn't waste my time. Certain Nate just wasn't the one, I smiled. It was all good.

C
HAPTER
4

“You went to bed early last night, Jane. You didn't come out to watch
Desperate Housewives.
It was a new one.”

I grabbed my Greek yogurt from the fridge and threw it in the pink Gucci bag Claire had bought me on her honeymoon in Italy. “I know. I just wasn't in the mood. I'll watch it online later.”
After I study for the LSAT
. “Some guy on eHarmony closed me out right after we got to open communication. So weird!”

“Not really,” Lainie said. “Happens all the time. That's why I never get excited about a guy until we've met face to face. Or mouth to mouth.” She winked.

Nodding I said, “You're right. I dodged a bullet. If he couldn't follow through with an email, he's probably a commitment-phobe.”

Lainie leaned against the refrigerator and smiled. “Look at Jane always putting on a positive spin!”

“Everything happens for a reason,” I said matter-of-factly. I couldn't even remember the name of the guy I had crushed on before meeting Bob, but I remembered feeling rejected when he didn't pay any attention to me. Later, I knew it was because Bob, not him, was supposed to be my first boyfriend.

“I'd love to know the reason God put all the asshole single guys on the island of Manhattan! They are only good for one thing, some of them better than others.”

“You're so jaded, Lainie. They aren't all assholes. You just haven't met the right guy yet.”
But you certainly bring enough of the wrong ones back to our apartment.

“I'm all about trial and error. Who knows if my next guinea pig will be on the 6 train this morning? I have a pitch meeting at nine-thirty. ” Lainie worked as a production assistant for the WE Network. They had weekly meetings to brainstorm original content. She wanted to work for the male-targeted Spike Network but they only had offices in California. She removed her sunglasses from the neckline of her low-cut sweater, placed them on her head and began walking out of the kitchen. “You coming?”

“Sure.”

I followed her down two flights of stairs outside onto 82nd Street. I breathed in the fresh air and looked upwards at the cloudless sky. Since it was usually rainy and cold, hot and humid, or some other “extreme” weather condition, the weather like we were having that day was a rarity. “You know what? I'm gonna walk. It's only thirty blocks and it's still early.” I had to stop at the bank anyway and there was an HSBC on 68th and Third.

Enjoying the cool breeze, I picked up the pace and smiled as I walked to work. The fact that the distinguished looking older business man thought the smile was directed at him and winked at me was just an added benefit. I would include his wink on my daily “grateful” list. He was too old for me, but it reinforced my confidence that someone besides Bob would find me attractive. According to a poll in
Cosmopolitan,
confidence was the biggest turn-on to men.

Men
. My noteworthy experiences with the gender were limited to my nine-year relationship with Bob. I had defined myself as his girlfriend for my entire adult life up until a year ago and some people thought I was a fool to have broken up with him. I hadn't ended things because Bob did something wrong, like cheat on me or treat me badly, and it wasn't that I thought I was “better” than him. I just knew in my gut that he wasn't “the one.”

When I first met him in camp at the age of sixteen, having done nothing more than kiss a few boys at high school dances and in
closets during Seven Minutes In Heaven, I woke up each morning infused with nervous excitement to see him. I wondered if he'd show any signs that his interest went beyond co-counselor camaraderie and it gave me something to look forward to each day besides bug juice and chasing sweaty little boys across the soccer field. He'd hug me after I got a base hit in softball or walk away from other girls at parties to talk to me, and it made me feel special. We made out for the first time in the hot tub at Glenn Kellerman's house party. I was afraid he would just blow it off as a result of too much cheap keg beer, but the next morning in camp, he pulled me to a corner of our musty bunk, told me he liked me, and asked me to the movies that night.

After that, we officially became girlfriend and boyfriend and the nervous excitement and uncertainty were replaced by passion and exploding hormones. In nine years we'd experienced the thrills of first love, the scariness of letting someone else in, and the adventures of learning what made each other tick. It wasn't always perfect and we rode the emotional roller coaster of fighting and making up quite a few times, but in the last couple of years, the thrills were not many, we ran out of things to learn, and the emotional rollercoaster turned into a boring Ferris wheel. We felt like an old married couple, which would have been fine if were old. Or married. But we were neither of the two, and I knew we never should be. We were meant to be each other's first loves, but not our forever-and-always loves.

Even though I knew breaking up with Bob was the right thing to do, I missed having a boyfriend. Sometimes it was the little things, like standing alone in line every week at H& H for Sunday morning bagels and coffee surrounded by couples with morning-sex hair. Sometimes it was the bigger things like being the fifth wheel at holiday dinners with my family. And then there was the sex. I hadn't had any in over a year. I hadn't even kissed anyone. Except for the drunken kiss last Halloween with a guy dressed up like a doctor. I was a nurse.

At first I missed sex terribly, but I'd practically forgotten what it felt like at this point. I absently let my hand wander to the front of my sweater and shook my head in disgust that no one had touched
my breasts in over a year. Was I considered a born again virgin by now? What if I forgot how to do it? Or what if it hurt again?

As my stomach turned in agony at my impending re-entrance into the sexual world, I noticed that the guy in front of me at the ATM had a really cute butt. It fit nicely into his dark brown cords.

I was enjoying the view when it suddenly changed and instead of looking upon his rear end, I was caught staring right at his crotch.

“All yours,” he said, motioning to the ATM.

Feeling my face get hot, I looked up, muttered “thanks” and caught a glimpse of his wise-ass grin before I scurried to the machine. As I entered the first two numbers of my pin, I felt the card slip between my fingers and drop to the ground. I would not be adding
this
incident to my grateful list, I thought as I completed my transaction.

Finished, I carefully placed the cash in my wallet, spun around to see where my card had landed and found myself looking once again at a pair of brown corduroy pants and Crotch Man with his hand extended towards me, firmly gripping my debit card.

“I think you dropped this,” he said and I noticed that his eyes matched his pants perfectly.

Maybe I
would
add this incident to my grateful list. Gently removing the card from his hand, I joked “Stealing my card, huh?”

Crinkling his forehead, he said, “I thought I just handed it to you.”

OK, so my flirting skills needed work. “Joking. Thanks so much. That was nice of you to wait.”

“I had an ulterior motive,” he said.

Dinner
? “Really and what would that be?”

“Have a drink with me.”

Drinks could turn into dinner.
“I don't even know your name.”

“Randall.
Now
will you have a drink with me?”

“You don't even know
my
name,” I said laughing.

“Jane Alexis Frank.”

My heart raced as I wondered how he knew my name and what else he knew about me. I zipped up my pocket book, prepared to run.

“‘Jane,” he said. Then he reached over, touched my shoulder gently and repeated, “Jane. Your name is on your debit card.”

No longer fearing for my life, I marveled at how lucky I was. He was handsome
and
smart. Batting my eyelashes, I smiled and said, “Well then…a drink would be nice.”

My friends didn't know what they were talking about. New York was full of cute eligible men and I had just snagged one!

C
HAPTER
5

“Yes, Dad, I've been studying for the LSAT,” I lied. I'd start this weekend. I was having drinks with Randall on Thursday night and so I decided not to bother with the Meetup single's bowling event on Saturday.

“If you want to get into NYU, you should aim for a score of 170. But, if not, Fordham or Brooklyn Law would be fine and they're not as particular. You graduated college with a 3.5, right?”

“3.75 in my major. I was thinking Columbia!”

“That's my girl! Aiming high.”

I smiled as I pictured sitting next to my dad at a conference table negotiating million dollar deals with one of our Fortune 500 clients. My dad was a partner at a small but prestigious boutique corporate law firm. He wanted me to work for a large global firm first to gain experience, but he'd talked about us working together since I was ten. I just hoped he wouldn't retire before I was ready. He loved being a lawyer. But he also loved golf. I had made Bob teach me how to play, but I kind of sucked. Claire was a natural; I took after my mother and had no athletic ability whatsoever. “Is Mom home?” I asked.

“She's playing Bunko with the ladies.”

“Oh.” I wanted to tell her about Randall. She hadn't been thrilled when I broke up with Bob. “He comes from a nice family, he treats
you well, blah, blah, blah.” If there was a new guy on the horizon, maybe she'd get over it. “OK, tell her to call me when she has a minute.”

“Of course. Talk to you later, Pumpkin.”

“Love you, Dad.”

“Love you too.”

After I hung up the phone, I opened my Kaplan practice LSAT book.

Chewing my pen, I pondered the first question for a few minutes, taking notes on the side of the page. Easy. I read the passage twice to make sure, checked the answer and confirmed I'd nailed it. Columbia here I come! I put the pen down and thought about what I'd make for dinner. I was in the mood for spaghetti and my homemade meatballs. Although meatballs were probably not a good idea before a date. What if they bloated me? I'd make my homemade marinara sauce minus the meat instead. Maybe I'd invite Marissa over. I glanced at my half-opened closet and realized I had no idea what to wear on my date. I wished my mom had been home but she'd probably have told me to wear whatever I wanted.
With slimming black pants
.

*   *   *

I was meeting Randall at Vero at 7:00 and so it made sense to go straight from work since both my office and the bar were in the 50's. I had picked up a form fitting black v-neck cashmere sweater the night before at Lord & Taylor to wear with my favorite black pants. Sexy yet elegant. It was my first “first” date in a decade and I was so nervous, my legs felt like Jell-O as I entered the bar and spotted Randall talking to the bartender.

His back was to me, but his butt looked familiar so I approached where he was standing and smiled at the female bartender, who looked away from Randall and gave me a once over. Patting Randall on the back, I said, “Hi. Sorry I'm late.”

Turning toward me, Randall grinned and said, “You're right on time, Jane Alexis.” Then he handed me the expansive menu of wine choices and said, “Let's get you a drink.”

Noting his full glass of white wine, I asked, “What are you drinking?”

“Cassandra,” he said to the bartender, who had walked to the other side of the bar. When she looked over, he said, “What is this fine wine you chose for me?”

Cassandra ran a hand through her smooth long blonde hair and shook her head casually. “It's an Australian sauvignon blanc. Fruity just like you!”

Shaking his finger at her, Randall said, “Hey don't give my date here the wrong idea.” Then he looked at me and said, “I assure you. I'm no fruit.”

Giggling, I said, “I wasn't concerned.” Glancing around the relatively un-crowded seating area, I said, “So, want to get a table or something?” I felt Cassandra's eyes on us and really didn't need her eavesdropping on our date.

“Anything you want, Jane. Let's just grab the menu so you can take your time choosing your wine. We can order appetizers too if you want.” Then he looked me deep in the eyes, winked, and led me to an open table. When the palm of his hand touched the small of my back, I felt a jolt of electricity through my entire body. My legs still felt wobbly and I was glad I chose a black top in case I broke out in a sweat. I was unaccustomed to feeling so wonderfully ill at ease in a guy's company.

About an hour and one-and-a-half glasses of Gewürztraminer later, peppered with a few cubes of cheese, Randall and I were making moon eyes at each other and holding hands across the table. He had just told me the most charming story about how he got lost at the zoo when he was seven and his grandmother only found him because he told the security guard his name was GI Joe, his favorite toy at the time.