There’s a woman sitting on the couch. She’s dressed like a rock star in a short skirt, high boots, and a brown suede vest over a low-cut top. Bergy is beside her, chatting away. Swanny and Ethan are seated across from them, both trying not to laugh.
Mats! Finally. She pops up and strides over to see me. She flings her arms around my neck and gives me a big hug, pushing her ample chest into mine.
For the second time this afternoon, I’m taken aback. I have no idea who she is. I pull away.
I’m sorry. We were supposed to meet?
No, silly. But I’ve been messaging you and you never seem to read your DMs. So, I thought I’d deliver the message in person, she says.
She’s leaning too close to me, and I keep backing away. We’re practically in the hallway now. Uh, what message is that?
I’d like to invite you over to my place. Just to chill. Then she winks one thickly lashed eye at me, pulls me towards her by the belt, and purrs, Tonight’s good.
Since I’ve already had practice refusing dates today, I repeat, I’m sorry, but I just broke up with someone. So, I’m taking a break now.
Well, that’s a waste. You know what they say, the best way to get over one woman is to get under another one. She whispers into my ear, And I’d ride you like a cowgirl. Yeehaw. She starts to move her hand from my belt to my crotch, so I jump away. For fuck’s sake, I don’t even know her name.
Well, thanks for coming by. I help her into her coat, which has a sheepskin collar and more rocker vibes.
She stuffs a slip of paper into my jeans pocket and smiles. Call me.
Once she’s gone, I lock the door, lean against it, and exhale.
Ethan cackles from the living room. That was better than watching reality TV.
I rejoin my roommates and collapse onto the couch. What the fuck is going on? That’s the second time today that a complete stranger has asked me out.
Bergy scowls at me. Why did you turn Francesca down? I would have hit that in two seconds.
Swanny snorts. You had fifteen minutes to make your case, but she wasn’t buying what you were selling.
Well, it didn’t help that you guys were making fun of me the whole time, Bergy complains.
Sinc shakes his head. I don’t blame Mats for turning her down. She was coming on way too strong.
Let’s get back to my question: Why is this happening at all? I ask.
Let me guess—you haven’t looked at your social media in weeks, Ethan says.
I think I posted something at Christmas. I’m not really into all that bullshit.
Check it now, he directs.
When I look, I have a lot of messages, all of them with similar requests. Many sound a bit like Petra, asking if I’m unhappy and want to unload.
Is this some kind of prank? Why are women I’ve never met asking me out?
Ethan shakes his head. Is there something in the water up in Canada? Why are you and Sinc both so clueless about women?
Hey. I’m just sitting here and catching strays, Sinc protests.
I hold up a hand. Look, I realize I’m not unattractive. But this is bizarre. Of course, women ask me out. But it’s usually someone I know—not complete strangers. And not via DMs.
Ethan’s sigh is long-suffering. Okay, I’m going to explain this like you’re five years old: Lana, your lovely ex, is a master of social media.
I nod. Of course, because her part-time job is managing the official Monarch College social media accounts.
He continues, So, on her personal account, she posts photos of the two of you. After games, on romantic dates, nice gifts you’ve given her. Black-and-white photos of you looking kind of emo. Were you not aware of this?
