Cheating on Myself (6 page)

I decided to take Jim’s advice, so just as we started the cool down I made an excuse about a morning meeting and headed for the locker room. I hadn’t exactly worked up a sweat, so I wasn’t feeling too bad about missing the stretching part of social hour. Heather gave me a look as I left, and the other women surveyed me suspiciously. It hadn’t been a great start to my new exercise routine, but I wasn’t going to be scared away by a bunch of angry old ladies.

“I’ll see you next week,” I said, and waved to show them they couldn’t intimidate me. But I wasn’t entirely sure that was true.

* * *

“
I like this Heather character,” Lily said later that day, as we walked toward the cafeteria for a coffee. I was trying to convince her to come to water aerobics with me by sharing Heather’s comment about rinsing my lady bits. I wasn’t sure I wanted to face the regulars by myself again, and hoped I could lure Lily into the shark den. “I also think you should go out with this musician character. It’ll be good for you.”

“How is a thirty-four year old aspiring musician good for anyone?” I ordered a decaf skim latte, wondering if Erik had been making coffee at home without me there. He usually didn’t drink coffee before leaving for work in the morning, but he’d gotten into the habit of preparing it for me every night before bed and I suspected he hadn’t yet broken with routine. “Besides, I don’t even know this woman. She could be a total nutjob and the grandson could be an Internet stalker, for all I know. Is it really smart to get set up with a stranger?”

Lily moaned. “You really have been off the market for a long time. Perhaps you’ve heard of something called ‘online dating’? It’s fairly common. Something relatively new in the last decade, where people get onto something known as the ‘Internet’ and are matched up with possible partners?”

“You are so funny,” I narrowed my eyes at her and swiped my latte off the service counter.

“After you’re matched,” she continued, smiling smugly. “You meet a relative ‘stranger’ in a public place and either have an awkwardly fun time or figure out how quickly you can bail without feeling like a total bitch.” She grinned. “Bottom line, I think getting set up by a nice old lady you met in water aerobics is as safe, relatively speaking, as an Internet date.”

“She’s not a nice old lady,” I grumbled. “They’re mean. And probably
all
chock full of advice.”

“Good advice?” Lily bit into her bagel as we walked back through the halls to the elevator. She waved at someone I recognized from the “Winner’s Board” that hung in every floor lobby. The Winner’s Board was something James had conceived of, a recognition board where peoples’ extraordinary achievements were shared with everyone. Every few months the Winner’s Board featured photographs of new Centrex superstars, people who had either come up with a way to save or make money, or a creative new way to motivate customers to buy stuff. I’d never been featured on the Winner’s Board, and had given up trying. I didn’t want to be a winner at Centrex.

“She told me to start sleeping around to get over Erik.”

“Sound advice.”

“We
just
broke up!”

“You’ll just mope if you hang out at home alone.”

“That’s exactly what Heather said.”

“Do you think she’d want to get a drink with us sometime? Heather sounds like a hoot.”

“I think it’s crass to jump into bed with someone new immediately,” I said. I sounded like a prude. Was I a prude? I’d never considered it—I had never needed to.

Lily rolled her eyes as we rode up the elevator. “You’re starting over, Stella. You’ve got to actually
start
somewhere. So maybe you’re not going to hop into bed with the first guy that’s offered up, but you will—eventually—think about dating. Not necessarily immediately, but probably sometime. That’s the first step.”

Starting over.

“Oh, my God,” I said as the elevators opened onto the twelfth floor lobby. “I’m starting over at age thirty-four. I’m single, out of practice, unwaxed, and unfamiliar with the modern methods of protection, and here I am—” I waved my arms in the air, sloshing latte foam out the little lid blowhole onto the paisley carpet. “Just thrown back out into the single scene, expected to figure out how to start dating as an almost-middle-aged woman.” Lily started laughing, which I really didn’t appreciate. “It’s not funny!”

“You do know both Anders and I are single and in the dating scene, yes?”

“You’ve got Chad. You’re not single.”

“Eh, I’m as close to single as you can be when you’re ‘in a relationship.’ We rarely live in the same city. But that’s not the point. You’re acting like being single in your thirties is the worst curse to have ever befallen anyone.”

I shook my head. “You know that’s not what I mean.”

“That’s what it sounds like to me,” she said, lowering her voice as we walked past the interns. They all turned and looked at us anyway. “You’re in your prime, you’re not beaten down from years of crappy dates—”

“Nuh-uh, I have had years of crappy dates. It’s just that they’ve all been with the same person.”

“Doesn’t count,” Lily pushed me into her office and I sat in the chair facing her desk. I propped my feet up on the edge of the faux-wood surface, hoping Lily couldn’t see down my skirt. “You haven’t been suffering through rounds of bad blind dates and online dates and office romances, so you’re not jaded. I think you’re going to love dating.”

“Maybe you’re right,” I conceded, thinking about all the meals in my future. I liked eating out. Really, dating was just eating out at interesting restaurants with someone new, right? I would be good at this! “I guess if I really am starting over, maybe I should just get a first date out of the way?”

“Now
that’s
the right spirit.” Lily flopped down at her desk and logged in, scrolling through twenty minutes worth of emails. “Oh, shit,” she said, suddenly paling and looking up at me.

“What?” I was feeling hopeful, and didn’t really care what micro-drama James had cooked up today. Surely, the woes of retail marketing and the impending stress of Black Friday (still more than two months away, but ever-present nonetheless) couldn’t be as dramatic as Lily’s facial expression suggested. “Put on a happy face, Lil. Otherwise, the Bears are going to come after you and eat you up for your bad attitude or something.” I laughed. “We’ll figure out some punishment.”

“Layoffs.” She quietly uttered the word every corporate employee dreaded.

“Well, nothing that severe.” I looked at her more closely. “Wait, do you have an email that says there are going to be layoffs? Real layoffs, or the performance-based layoffs of last week?” I suddenly felt sick.

“We have a staffing meeting at six to discuss. I don’t know when they’re happening, but they’re coming,” she said, licking her lips.

Suddenly, I had the feeling we were no longer alone. I pulled my feet off Lily’s desk and turned to look back at the always-open door to her office and saw James Davis leaning casually against the doorframe with his hands tucked into the pockets of his sweater vest.

“What’s going on, girls?” James insisted on calling us all girls, despite the fact that it was both condescending and unprofessional. “How were the weekends?” He chewed on something in his mouth. Through his cheek, I could see the outline of his tongue wrap around his back teeth to pull something out of the nether-regions, and the chewing intensified. His hair, which had been pomaded into submission, was artfully messy and intentionally overgrown. I felt the same sickness creep up every time I had to be this close to James. He just oozed eww.

“The weekends were fantastic,” Lily said, cool as ever. “Did you do anything fun?”

Our boss tucked his hand inside his pants pocket and jangled some coins, leading me to wonder what else he was touching in there. “Some of the B-school guys went out for a few beers. It’s always great hanging out with the old crew.” He chuckled, as though inviting us to join his inside joke. James had graduated from business school six years earlier, but he always talked about it as though he’d been out for nearly a century and his memories of it were fading fast. I guess that was his way of trying to add a few years on to his experience to get people to take him seriously.

James was younger than both Lily and I, but had somehow managed to charm his way to the top faster than a regular promotion schedule usually allowed. Even though he’d gotten married in a big, lavish ceremony only nine months before, Lily and I were certain he was sleeping with his boss, the frigid (and close-to-retirement) Chief Marketing Officer at Centrex. It was an interesting and disgusting pairing in every way. “The wife gets a little pesky when I meet up with them, since we all drink like twenty-somethings,” James laughed, as though his twenties were such a distant memory. He’d just celebrated his thirty-first birthday that July. “So…” James looked around, suddenly uncomfortable. “Lil, are you going to make it to our, uh, planning meeting tonight?”

“I’ll be there.”

“Fantastic. And Stella,” James pointed finger-guns at me and grinned. He had lettuce stuck between his first and second molar. “Keep up the brave face, got it?” James was gone as fast as he’d appeared.

“What did that mean? Do you think he knows about me and Erik? Is he trying to weasel his way into my personal life?” I squirmed and stood up, thinking it best I get back to my desk. James wasn’t big on us loitering or chatting, even though they were two of his own favorite things to do.

“Just his motivational crap,” Lily said, smiling. “Now go get back to work. And by work, I mean go back to your desk and fill out your online dating profile. You can submit it through me for approval before you make it public.” She gave me her Hardcore Lily stare. “Go, single girl, go!”

* * *

It wasn’t until the next night, when I got home before Anders, that I finally got the nerve up to check out an online dating site. “Welcome to our community!” I read on the first screen. I had offered up my junk email address, and hoped I wasn’t going to start getting even more spam. The emails offering me penis enhancements were already out of control, and now that they knew I was looking for love (or trolling for a decent date), I suspected they had some spambot readying all kinds of new offers for me. “What brings you here today?” The first screen featured an image of a happy couple, about my age, laughing on a sailboat. I hoped I wouldn’t have to go sailing on any first dates.

I clicked the box that said, “Just exploring—I’m not sure if I’m ready to do this yet.” Huh. That was a pretty accurate description of my state-of-mind, actually. Usually, online forms were an irritating collection of bad answers.

“Relationship status?” Never married.

“Gender?” Didn’t I already answer this? I swear I had, but maybe they just wanted to make sure?

“Seeking?” Men, ages… hmm. I might need to ask Lily or Anders about this. Twenty-six to forty? I briefly debated closing the dating service window immediately. I didn’t know what I was looking for. I couldn’t even pick the age of my future match.

“Where should we search?” My new computer matchmaker asked me. I knew I didn’t want to date someone in the suburbs. I liked city guys. Right? I checked “within 10 miles” and moved on.

Call me superficial, but I was also cautious and checked yes when they asked if I wanted to see only matches with photos. I wasn’t going to be fooled by some sixty-year-old letch, posing as a thirty-five-year-old, fishing for trophy wives. Need I worry about that? Agh! This was scary. Again, I debated closing the site, but instead clicked “next” to move on to the next page.

As the next page loaded, I heard the front door open and I slammed my laptop closed. I’d been working at the dining room table, and didn’t want Anders to see what I was doing. It was so embarrassing.

“What are you up to?” he asked, walking in and throwing his coat on the couch. In the few days we’d been living together, I had discovered Anders was a slob. He left his dishes around for days (or until I picked them up and put them in the dishwasher for him), laid his socks next to the couch while he was watching TV at night, and squeezed the toothpaste from the top. Living with Anders was kind of like living with Erik.

“Just catching up on some work,” I said, smiling. “A powerpoint thing.”

He narrowed his eyes at me. “Really?”

“Yes, really,” I said, patting my computer nervously. “That’s all.”

“You look guilty.”

I sighed, defeated. “Fine. I’m filling out an online dating portfolio.”

Anders started clapping. “Excellent! We should open a bottle of wine for this. Can I help?”

“No.”

“You’re going to sit there, alone, and answer those questions for yourself? Trust me, you need the help of an expert. You don’t know what you’re doing.”

“You’re an expert at online dating service forms? Is there such a thing?”

“Just go get the wine and I’ll get started.” I reluctantly went into the kitchen to pour us both a glass of wine. When I came back out to the dining room, Anders had my computer open and was answering questions about me.

“Curvy?” I asked, peering over his shoulder. “Don’t you think ‘a few extra pounds’ is more appropriate?” I squeezed my belly fat and gazed down at my boobs.

“Curvy sounds a lot better. That’s why it’s an option.”

“But curvy suggests naturally large tits and sexy hips,” I looked down at my breasts, which were larger than usual, thanks to the extra pounds, but still not exactly boob-tastic. And my butt was kind of flat. Though I did have nice calves. My calves were curvy and perfect.

Anders looked me over carefully. “Curves can be anywhere. ‘Curvy’ does not necessarily mean big tits. Trust me, I’ve gone out with a lot of girls who answer curvy… you fit the bill. You’re hot, Stella. Okay, what do you like to do?” He didn’t wait for a response from me. Instead, he started checking all kinds of boxes and began to type. “You like sports, right? We’ll say running—wait, but then you’re going to get one of those self-obsessed running types who spend their weekend training for marathons. How about a more social sport? Are you into biking?”