I’d been on every goddamn dating app, and I’d hated every single one of them. A couple of my friends had had good luck with a new app, so I signed up the night before in a brief, ill-conceived rush of optimism.
During Judi’s grooming session, I got on the app to find zero notifications—natch—so I decided I might as well take the opportunity to ogle the scenery. I nearly broke my fingers screeching to a halt on the enormous, beastly man Andrea commented on.
She wasn’t wrong—he did look like he wanted to kill me.Ugh, why was that so fucking hot?I mean…I didn’t actually want a murderous asshole. My true dream man looked like he’d kill me but was really a cinnamon roll. Unfortunately, most guys who looked like the scary hottie were exactly as dick-headed as they seemed. It was frustrating.
But this guy…while he looked like he’d give Dexter a run for his money, there was a spark in his eyes and a sexy smirk on his lips. Like maybe he knew exactly what people assumed about him, but he’d never been the kind to care about others’ expectations.
Maybe dad bods turned him on, and kids sounded like a fantastic idea. Sure, his neck tattoos would initially terrify the moms at our kids’ school, but he’d win them over when he volunteered for the carpool and brought his killer gluten-free cupcakes to the PTA meetings.
Obviously, he was good in bed.
Er.
It was possible I’d created an entirely ridiculous scenario in my head based on a handful of poorly lit selfies. Sigh.
Judi Dench was sitting on my lap, intently looking along with me. She sniffed atNiceGuy4Uand put her paw on the screen.
“Judi! Are you choosing your new daddy?”
She looked at me with her one good eye, tongue hanging over the side, and gave me a little woof. That was as close to a “yes” as I was getting on this godforsaken planet, so I kept scrolling through his profile.
The thing with this particular app was they had these monthly themes you could participate in. It was kind of cheesy—and a bit cringe—but a lot of guys needed to be reminded that they weren’t only there to speak about themselves.
Epic eye-roll.
Anyway, this month’s theme was: “Ask an Interesting Question.” Some guys were better at it than others—it’d been a helpful filter if nothing else. Of all the guys I swiped left on that morning, half were because they’d asked a tragically boring question.
Unfair?
Probably.
The reason I was still single at the nearly ancient age of thirty-three?
Undoubtedly.
Crossing my fingers, I checked out Mr. Scary-But-Cute’s question: “Kirk, Picard, Sisko, or Janeway?”
Was it possible that my dream man was also a fan of Star Trek? I fanned myself, letting my thumbs go to work.
TeamDench: “How could I possibly answer this question? You’ve left off Captains Pike, Burnham, Rios, and most damning, Archer.”
I hit send, cracking up as I scratched behind Judi Dench’s ear, hoping he’d play along. My heart skipped a beat when the three little dots started to bounce.
Shit. He was actually replying to me in real time.
NiceGuy4U: “My bad. Of Kirk, Picard, Sisko, Janeway, Pike, Burnham, Rios, Archer—and, by the way, you left off Capt. Lorca, don’t think I didn’t see that—who is your favorite captain?”
Damn. He was right. Totally forgot about Lorca.
TeamDench: “Capt. Jean-Luc Picard is and always will be the very best of the captains.”
NiceGuy4U: Ugh, boring. By the way, the correct answer is Benjamin Lafayette Sisko.
TeamDench: HARDLY. He was the captain of a base station.
TeamDench: *Yawns self into a coma*
NiceGuy4U: Excuse you. Sisko was born in New Orleans, held the line at a wormhole, fended off the feckless Cardassians, and went to war against the Jem’Hadar, all while having the very best voice in the whole wide world. He is the one true captain.
