We’re only on season ten, and I’ve cried more times than I can count, especially when he died. I’m attached to most of the main characters and that’s why I can only watch a few episodes at a time.
“Maybe you should find your own instead,” Natalie says. “McNasty.”
I huff out a laugh. “Funny enough, we were havin’ a similar conversation at dinner tonight.” I continue explaining Delilah’s lingerie story.
“You should try a datin’ app. I’m sure there are plenty of eligible bachelors you’d like.”
“Uh…I dunno. That seems like a million percent out of my comfort zone.”
“Says the extrovert. You can make conversation with anyone.”
“Not with cute guys,” I retort. “I always assume they’re way out of my league and wouldn’t be interested.” Considering my lack of experience, I’m not sure guys would find that attractive when I tell them I want to wait before getting into the physical stuff.
“Harlow, I ain’t sayin’ this as your bestie or because I’ve known you a long time, but I’m sayin’ this as someone who has eyeballs. You’restunning. Like, drop-dead beautiful. And I should hate you for it because you don’t even haveta try. If I was even a smidge bisexual, you’d be my gay awakening.”
I burst out cackling so hard that it causes my side to cramp.
“You”—I wipe my cheeks from the tears she made fall—“are ridiculous.”
“But you know it’s true. I bet you a hundred bucks you’d get ten messages from guys within the first hour of your profile being active.”
“I don’t even know what that means. I’ve never been on a datin’ app.”
“You swipe on the profiles you like and if they swipe on yours, you’re a match. Then you can either message ’em or they’ll message you. There are variations of how it works dependin’ on the app. Some have it where the woman has to message first.”
I curl my lips, hating the sound of that.
“And what if they ask to meet up but look nothin’ like their photos?”
“That’s why you always assume they won’t and deduct half the points for his looks. So if his photo is a ten, he’s now a five. But if his personality is a seven, his overall average is a six. Truthfully, though, I’d probably fold for that.”
I snort because that’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.
“And what if I’d like to find an average-lookin’ nice guy who won’t pressure me to get drunk or have sex with him on the first date?”
“Oh…well, then you’re gonna need to download a different type of app for that.”
“Which one?”
“Virgins ‘R Us.”
She says it so seriously that it’s not until her face cracks with a smile that I know she’s fucking with me.
“I hate you.”
“Ha! No, you don’t. Youloveme.”
“Mm-hmm.”
I firmly believe Natalie’s so boy-crazy because she spent her early teen years in the hospital, like me, except she also went toan all-girls high school. So as soon as she went off to college, she found the first hot guy to pop her cherry.
We continue shit-talking and watching our show together until midnight. After she pressures me to show her my arms and chest rash mural, we say good night.
Before I go to bed, I take two of the antihistamines and dab on some calamine lotion. Since I don’t want to get it all over my blankets, I’m stuck lying on my back like a statue, which is as uncomfortable as it sounds.
Thirty minutes of staring at my ceiling has me grabbing my phone and pulling up the text thread with the unknown guy.
Harlow: Hey, sorry it’s so late. Any chance you’re awake?
