“I can’t. You have to do it,” I beg.
Carolina points at her chest, which is much smaller than mine. “He’s expecting a cow of a certain persuasion. Hey, maybe this is your meet-cute. This could be the start of your beautiful romance.”
“I don’t need a man.”
“Well—”
“I don’t want him in my house,” I argue, “tainting the space with his dirty socks and questions about what’s for dinner.”
“So find a better one. Like Fitz…”
“I should start jogging.”
“I’m going to have you committed if you keep this up.”
“I’m fine. I’m good. Kathy isn’t here. She’s not showing up, but it’s fine. I’m going to give this guy the hard sell.” I cue up some photos on my phone. “And I’m not falling in love with him, because I don’t want to end up like Kathy.”
“I really think you should have sex with this man.”
“What?”
Carolina points. Outside, there’s a man with a big bunch of flowers. “He looks like he has a small dick,” she says.
“That’s not a selling point…”
“Have you so much as masturbated in the last five years?”
“What? I don’t do that.” My face goes hot.
“Yeah, that’s my point. Dry as the Sahara.”
“I am not celibate.”
“Lies. I am your best friend, and I would know if you had sex, and you haven’t. You need to start small.”
The door opens, and my-slash-Kathy’s date walks in, looks around, and seems confused. He also seems about fifteen years older than his profile picture.
“Hi.” I wave then wipe my sweaty palm on my apron. I hastily untie it. “Are you Clive?” I approach, hand extended.
He recoils, his face screwing up like he’s smelled something rotten as he looks at me. The ceiling fan wafts the pieces of his comb-over. “You catfished me.”
Everyone in the Brew & Browse titters. I really should not have done this date here.
It’s a good thing Fitz is shutting us down, then. My shame dies with the café.
“Uh, actually—”
“Uh, actually,” he repeats in a mocking tone. “Uh, actually, you also can’t read.”
“I run a bookstore-coffee-shop franchise. Of course I can read.”
“Well, my profile clearly says ‘no fatties.’”
My sister and I have had our trials and tribulations, sure, but there is no way in hell I’m letting her date this asshole.
I channel the rage I used to carry with me in private equity, when I’d tell a young white guy with daddy’s money and a shitty idea who thinks he walks on water that not only are we not investing in his scheme, but no other firm in town is going to take it after hearing that Rainer Investment thinks it’s garbage.
“If you’d let me finish instead of interrupting me with that misogynistic, body-shaming pig vomit, I would have told you that my ex-Sports-Illustrated-swimsuit-model sister, whom you were chatting with online, was late for your date.”
