Yeah, I can’t tell Abuela about someone I’m seeing before I know if I like him—she’d have the wedding planned before our third date. So there’s only one option left…
“You know I hate it when you’re on your phone,” she instantly scolds.
“I’m just messaging Tío. He told me he had another job for me,” I lie. Since it’s maybe the only excuse that gets her off my back and doesn’t prompt a follow-up, she hmmphs and nods, allowing the phone usage in her presence.
mermaidav: You’re a guy, right?
SpyderMan: Part spider, part man.
I tamp down on a giggle, eyes flicking up guiltily to Abuela, and my mind swings back to Peter. I swear I can hear him saying that in his sarcastic tone. Wait… That’s kind of a funny coincidence—the superhero Spiderman’s secret identity is Peter Parker.
mermaidav: A one-stop-shop for advice on dating and catching flies? Sold.
SpyderMan: Wait. You want dating advice?
mermaidav: Don’t look at me like that
SpyderMan: lol you heard me spit out my drink from all the way over there, eh? I’ll admit I’m surprised—both that you’d come to me and that you’re dating. For as long as I’ve known you, you’ve always claimed to “hate people”
Yeah, he’s got me there.
It’s an odd sensation to feel like someone you’ve never seen “sees” you. It’s weird how you canknowa person without knowing them. Because even though we’ve talked almost every day for two years, there are so many things we don’t know about each other—things you don’t share when you’re trying to protect an identity. It’s created a strange, imbalanced situation of knowingwhosomeone is without the context to understand how they got to be that way.
I know what kind of music he listens to when he codes, but I don’t know where he was born. I know the definitive ranking of his favorite desserts, but I don’t know if he has siblings. I know how he feels about right and wrong, but not what he looks like.
And he apparently knows that dating—opening up, considering letting someone else in—is out of character for me. And he’s right.
In some ways, he knows me better than anyone else—even Abuela. I’ve always felt free to speak my mind and be myself with him in a way I never could with Abuela, strict and judgmental as she can be. I’ve told him so many deeply personal things, and he’s never judged me.
Maybe he is the right person to talk to about this after all.
mermaidav: I’m not dating; it was one date. It was a good date. But to your point, I’m rusty—I’m not sure what to do next or what the rules are in this situation.
SpyderMan: Wait, you’re doubting yourself? You?? One moment, let me check the forecast… yes, it does appear that Hell has frozen over. How odd.
A smile tugs at my lips. Sometimes even a bad bitch needs a reminder of who she is.
mermaidav: You’ve clearly never met someone so fine they made feminism leave your body. The things I’d let this man do to me would get me kicked out of a women’s studies class.
SpyderMan: I take it you liked him, then?
Biting into my lower lip, I barely manage to contain the grin.
mermaidav: yeah. A lot.
SpyderMan: Wow. A lot? You know this after one date?
mermaidav: Was the part about feminism leaving my body somehow unclear? You want me to be a bit more descriptive? lol
SpyderMan: No. You just don’t normally act like a little girl with a crush.
I feel my brows shoot towards my hairline. Excuse the fuck outta me? It’s hard to interpret tone online, but that almost sounded disapproving.
Wait a minute, is SpyderMan jealous?
The thought sends a thrill through me that makes me shake my head at myself. Yeah, I’m not dealing with that. I don’t want him to be jealous—or, rather, I don’t want to want him to be jealous. I’m trying to get over him.
This was a mistake. I’ll browse dating subreddits for advice before I entangle myself back in my SpyderMan feelings.
