“Probably not, but I wouldn’t have volunteered it either.”
I smile. “What would you have have said then?”
“I’d probably be an apologist. I mean, have you ever considered that you should begratefulfor the dick pics?”
I laugh, and it comes out a little high-pitched.The carriage is starting to feel really warm, even with the open windows.
“Tell me the truth,” he says. “Have you ever dated a guy based on a dick pic?”
“No. I have never gone out with a guy whosentme a dick pic. Except this guy I went out with once who sent me oneafterthe date, but I didn’t go out with himagain.”
“Ah. So you’re saying pictures of genitalia aren’t the chick bait these guys are hoping for.”
Nate is grinning as he says this, and I’m grinning like crazy back and wondering why I’m not more uncomfortable with the conversation. I don’t usually talk about penises this much with guys I barely know. Or, for that matter, with anyone.
But instead of making me uncomfortable, it’s just making me want to tear off all of Nate’s clothes, which is probably not the effect he is going for.
“Look at that,” he says. “You’re not nervous anymore.”
He’s right. I’m not. I’m sexually frustrated and ready to jump into his lap—which, yeah, clearly not the effect he was going for—but for the moment, not nervous.
“I guess I have the antics of the dudes onTinder to thank for that.”Though, really, it’s talking with Nate.
“Wait, wait,” he says. “You meet people onTinder? No wonder you’re getting all the dick pics. What are you doing onTinder?”
Oh, shit. I did not mean to admit that. I guess I’m committed now, because there’s really only one reason anyone’s onTinder. “Um, looking for hookups?”
Nate’s eyes widen, and I swear his face is flushed. But maybe that’s about how hot it is in here. It is warm, right? It’s not just me? “Really,” he says. “For some reason, I had this vision of you as this conservative, good-girl mom type.”
“I am,” I say. “But I’m a good-girl mom who hasn’t had a husband in three years and who still has a sex drive. And, you know, a fear of relationships. So . . .”
“So how does this work? Do your kids stay with your in-laws? Do you bring guys home, or do you go somewhere else?”
I can’t imagine that he’s asking this for the show, which, for all its skeeziness, keeps the sex stuff deniable enough to avoid Mature ratings—so I’m not particularly worried that my voice will be talking about dick pics in every promo.
But I don’t want to assume Nate is asking because he’s interested in me. He’s probably just trying to distract me, keep me from getting nervous again.
And I am distracted.
The carriage starts to move, but we roll up one carriage-length and then stop. “It begins,” Nate says.
I don’t want to think about that. Just minutes ago I was eager to meet Prince Charming and get it over with, and now I never want to get out of this carriage.
“I do leave my kids with my in-laws,” I say. “But no, I don’t bring guys home. I don’t want these randos to know where I live.” I hesitate. “Are you telling me you’ve never usedTinder for hookups? Or is it more okay for you because you don’t have kids?”
“I have been onTinder,” Nate says carefully. “And no, I wasn’t judging you, just surprised. But I don’t useTinder a lot. I’m not into one-night stands.”
“Really?”
Now Nate looks uncomfortable, and I wonder if I’ve overstepped, though this is much more tame than the stuff he was asking me.
“I’ve actually never had sex on the first date,” Nate says, wincing like this is a bad thing.
Yeah, okay. So he definitely doesn’t want me to pounce on him—even if we weren’t on a reality show, and I wasn’t about to start dating someone else, and he wouldn’t lose his job over it. “Huh,” is all I manage to say over the ridiculous wash of disappointment.
“Now who’s judging who?” He sounds like he’s joking, but given his reticence, I’m not sure that he is.
“I’m not judging!” I say. “Just surprised.That’s a little old-fashioned.”
