An Internet Match-Up Romance

Romantic Fiction - Internet dating - romance - 

"Am I a dork?" I ask my friend Kelly "Good heavens no, Callan. You are anything but a dork. Not with that flaming red hair and those emerald green eyes. My Mom swears you are a replica of Brenda Starr from my Grandma's comic book days. Kelley is my best friend, my only still unmarried friend. She is dating again after a long relationship ended. We are shopping for shoes. Kelley is trying on a pair of stiletto sandals, grimacing as she tugs the ankle straps into the right places. "If I'm not a dork, am I really boring?" I watch her carefully stand. "It's that match-up online date you had last night, right?" She reaches for my hand to steady her. I nod, grimly remembering how painful it was. Mentally painful that is. "Was he another loser?". "I hate to call him a loser." I watch her wobble along the narrow aisle. "The problem, Callan," she leans on a shelf, unlaces the sandals, takes them off, plops them into the box, and continues. "You compare every guy to Todd, the jerk. Not every good-looking, sexy, successful guy," she slips into her Crock sandals, "like him are cheaters." She grabs her purse from me, spins around, and heads towards the front of the store. "Let's go to Ike's for pizza." Waiting for our order, I reluctantly tell her about my latest match-up date. "He wasn't bad looking, kind of average, but he was so out of touch with reality. I tried making conversation with him. I asked about his work. He said 'work is work'. I mean he never initiated a conversation. He replied to my questions with short monotone answers. Kelley, he seemed bored out of his mind." Mitzy places the steaming hot pizza on the table." Here's Ike's finest for his two best customers. He said to tell you 'Bon appetite'." Swallowing a bite of pizza, Kelly touches the checkered napkin at her mouth, takes a sip of beer, and shrugs. "Callan, this is the fourth date with that Internet match-up place that didn't work out. I hate to say this but did you ever think it might be you being too fussy? You aren't going to find another Todd, thankfully," she adds. "No, it's me being stupid," I say loudly, suddenly aware people are looking at me. Speaking softly, I continue. "Letting Mom talk me into going on the Internet to find a man is dumb." I pause, remembering Mom telling me how two of her best friend's daughters found good guys using it. "I wasn't looking for one. I signed up to get her to stop bugging me." Kelley sprinkles grated cheese on her slice of pizza."Maybe you should have signed her up instead of you". "She's doing fine on her own." It makes me feel even more like a boring dork knowing how many eligible men she has dated since she and Dad divorced. "I promised her I'd try five, and that is my limit. One should have been enough." Kelley sighs, finishing the last of her beer, and asks if I want to go to a movie. Her boyfriend is bowling with the guys, and she is free to spend time with me. For the next two days, I ignore the match-up website, not wanting to face another failed date, determined to be content without a man in my life. I made it to 28, with only one serious relationship unfortunately, that failure kept me from trying. I didn't want to be hurt like that again. Why did I give into Mom? Looking back on the fiasco, I remember my unease after submitting the application online two months before. Since it was local, I was asked to come into the office for an interview and professional video shots. Mom assured me it was all above board. Several of her friends, both male, and female, as well as her friend's adult children, had done it, "Sweetheart," she smiled, "If I needed it, I'd do it myself." Was she implying I couldn't get a date on my own? I had plenty of opportunities, I just wasn't ready to get into the whole dating scene again. So why did I agree to sign up other than to get her to stop bugging me? ///////////// The 'Match For life' office was on the 5th floor of a building in downtown Tampa. Looking through the glass doors at a reception area, I saw Jessica Taylor, a former classmate. She greeted me warmly and we easily chatted for a few minutes, bringing each other up to date on our lives. She is married with two kids. You know what I am, single with no prospects. As we chat about former friends and classmates, an older looking man comes out of a room, smiles at us, and quickly exits. "He's a faculty member of one of our Middle Schools," she shares. "Divorced about a year ago. He's not bad looking. Who knows Callan, maybe he will be the one for you." I felt that all of Tampa would know I am single once I started the online dating route. I almost backed out. "I think it's okay to go in. Len's been anxious to see you." "Len?" "Len Maxwell. You remember him from high school. Oh, maybe not. He was a dork back then, glasses, nerdy with slicked-back hair. Wait till you see him now." Trying to remember him, I am shaking my head when the door opens. "Callan, come in. We are all set up for the interview and video shoot." Mr. Drop dead handsome, blue-eyed, gym workout body, with a dazzling smile, motions me into the office. I turn to Jessica, mouthing, Len? She nods and grins. The interview was routine, except for my throbbing heart. Sitting across from Mr. Good Looks with a fantastic smile, which he gives me now and then when he looks from the computer screen to me. I tried to remember him from high school. Nothing. Fortunately, he didn't bring it up. "Advertising and PR with a local talk radio station. I see you got your degree at FSU. Mine was in Computer Science at UF." He looks at me briefly then back to the computer. "I hope my going to an arch-rival school isn't a problem," I say only half-serious, anxious to see that smile. He doesn't respond, just grins. A tantalizing grin I must add. Scrolling down the screen, he clicks a few keys and looks at me. "I think we have enough on your application to make a good dating profile. Let's go into the studio and let Bart take a casual video of you talking about your likes and dislikes." We stand; he leads me to a side door. "The questions are the usual, what type of person you most enjoy being with, what you enjoy doing. Basic things like that," Going into an adjoining room, I knew he was exactly the type of person I would want to be with. I was pretty sure he was either married or close to it. No one that good looking was still single. He introduces me to Bart and leaves. That was it. I didn't see him again, much to my disappointment. Tampa is not what you would call a big city, but neither is it a small town. You would have thought I'd bump into him somewhere, but I didn't. I might have called Jessica if I could remember her married name. I know, I could have called the office on some pretense, but I didn't. If I were to see him again, I would, and if not, well I could dream couldn't I? After thinking about the interview with Len Maxwell, I decided to go back online, get the fifth and final date over with, and cancel my availability. Going to the website, I pull up my profile. There is only one possible match-up for me listed. Guess Len couldn't find many guys interested in my profile. There isn't much to read about the guy on the screen. He is a systems programmer for an International Investment company. The picture of #5 isn't too bad, although it looks a little photo-shopped. Get it over with, I tell myself. Get out of this unpleasant program I let Mom talk me into. Quickly I post where and when the best time to meet is for me. I suggest Ike's pizza, 6 PM Tuesday evening. I figure early enough to get home for the primetime TV shows and a weeknight so I can use the early workday excuse. I dress casually in black slimming slacks, a white tailored silk blouse, and black ballet flats. Thankfully no one I know is at Ike's. There will be no gossip when this match-up doesn't work, as there probably had been with the other four. Looking around for a single male who looks like the PC image and seeing none, I let Mitzy show me to a table for two by the window. Watching out the window for my potential date, I see Mr. drop-dead handsome Len Maxwell crossing the street from the parking garage. He is looking elegantly handsome in a Ralph Loren royal blue polo shirt over slender fit chinos. Perfect for a pizza night, casual but classic. Inside he looks around, smiles at Mitzy, and comes to the table. "Oh, oh. If the boss shows up, I guess that means my date backed out. That's not good." I smile as he pulls out a chair across from me. "Not necessarily true." He takes a menu from Mitzy, pretending to look at it, then looks up at me, a wide smile lighting up his eyes. "You like mushrooms on your pizza. I think that was somewhere in your profile." Responding hesitatingly I agree that I like mushrooms and anchovies. "I can do the mushrooms but anchovies will have to come on the side." "Wine or beer?" He asks, handing the menu back to Mitzy. "Beer is good." I nod at Mitzy as she backs away, her eyes intent on Len. He tells her he will also have a beer. She writes the order, barely taking her eyes off of him, then quickly leaves. "I like the way you let your hair fall naturally rather than pulled back as you had it on the video. It's the way you wore it in high school." He looks directly into my eyes. "You don't remember me do you?" Embarrassed to admit it, I shake my head. "We sat at the same table in science class, and we were in English together in our junior and senior years." Mitzy puts the beers on the table as my embarrassment increases. He is remembering details, while I have no memory of him at all. Sensing my unease, he pulls out his wallet, removes a picture, and hands it to me. "That's my Sr. class picture. I took it from Mom's album to bring it to you. Callan, I honestly didn't expect you to remember me. Hardly anyone does. I was shy, especially around any of the popular girls like you." Looking at the picture of a studious, serious young man wearing thick gold-rimmed glasses, I can't believe it is the same person sitting across from me. Glancing up from the picture, then at Len, I remember the eyes, not smiling as they are across from me at Ike's, but the same color, deep cobalt blue, this time without glasses "Ah, your memory is coming back." He grins, taking the photo and putting it back into his wallet. Mitz places the pizza in the center of the table, staring down at him until she realizes what she is doing. She quickly scoots away. "I had a terrific crush on you in our last two years at Hillsboro High." Toasting me with his glass, he adds, "I was hoping you'd go to UF instead of State. I was depressed over your decision." "You never said anything." I stammer, not believing this was the same person from high school "I was shy. Remember? You were popular. Even talking to you about Shakespeare and math was a monumental task." Suddenly I am the shy one. Unable to think of anything to say that would make me feel better about not remembering him, I skip to the present. "So, what happened to my date for this evening? Did he just back out or did something come up that he couldn't make it?" Looking at me sheepishly, he leans back in his chair. "There was no date. When Bart, he's the owner of the Internet site, not the camera guy, told me you had applied, I asked him to let me be the one to interview you when you came in." "You don't work for Perfect Match Site?" "No, but I am into Computers. I own several large PC stores along the East Coast. We have just moved into the Midwest and are expanding into the Southeast, including Tampa." I am surprised when he mentions the name of his company, "I applied for a job with them." "I know. I was going over some of the company applications last year and saw yours. I was hoping you wouldn't get hired." "You didn't want me to get hired?" "It was all wrong for you, Callan. It was an office job," "You have no way of knowing what is right or wrong for me." "Callan, I didn't want you to get the job because it was a desk job. You'd be in an office instead of being a news reporter for one of Tampa's leading radio stations. I know you will be moving into TV news broadcasting. That's where you belong." "You kept me from getting the job?" "No, I didn't do anything to keep you from getting it. Human Resource makes those decisions. I have a rule not to interfere unless I have to." The anger beginning to surge inside me calms slightly. I finish the last of the beer. "I'm glad you didn't cause me not to get the job. You were right, if I had, I wouldn't be doing what I love. And I'm glad that you aren't manipulative." "I didn't have anything to do with you not getting the job, but I'm afraid I have not been quite honest with you." He reaches across the table and takes my hand. "I have been manipulative." Pulling my hand back, I stare at him. "I selected the dates for you." "You selected the dates for me?" "Yes, and I made sure they were guys who wouldn't be right for you. As a matter of fact, and I hate to admit this, two of them are my friends who agreed to not be good dates." "I don't believe you. How could you do that to me?" "It was wrong for me to do what I did. At the time it seemed the best way to get you to go out with me. I'm still a bit of that shy high school teen. I wasn't sure if you'd want to go out with me. This way, arranging tonight, you had no choice." "It seems like a lot of trouble to get a date. You could have called me." "I know, I know, but I didn't want to take the chance you'd say no. And I'm still not sure if I ask that you will say yes." He may not be sure, but there is no doubt in my mind what I will say when he asks. Looking into his dazzling eyes, I know without a doubt there will be no more online dating for me. I just might have met my perfect match.

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