“You’re just having fun, though,” I said. “No ties. No forever.”
“Ugh, no.” He winced. “And who wants to be tied?”
“I didn’t mind it with my boyfriend,” I said. “Which is exactly why your way wouldn’t work for me.”
He considered this. “Sure it would. You just have to do it.”
“Oh, right,” I said. “Because it would be that easy foryouto change your ways, totally.”
“I could,” he said, confident.
“Ambrose. You’re seriously saying that it would be no problem at all for you to decide to date only one person, with an eye toward the long term, starting right now.”
“Yeah, if I wanted to. Easily.”
We were at the office door now. Through the glass, I could see my mom and William at the conference table, that week’s bride, Elinor Lin, between them. She was smart and gorgeous and had already had a dramatic, vocal meltdown about napkin holders. It was mid-June of my last summer doing this job. If I couldn’t sell cucumbers or sling coffee, maybe there was another way to endure.
“Want to bet on it?” I asked Ambrose.
He raised an eyebrow. “I’m listening.”
“What about this,” I said. “For a set period, I agree to date the way you do, multiple people, no commitment. At thesame time, you find one girl and see her exclusively. We see who bows out first.”
“Oh, it’ll be you,” he said confidently.
“We haven’t even set the stakes,” I said, offended.
“I’m very competitive,” he explained. “Okay, specifics. What’s the time period?”
“Three weeks?” I wasn’t totally sure, but I thought I saw him waver. “What, too long?”
“I was thinking maybe not long enough,” he replied. “If I’m going to commit, I need to really go for it.”
“Four,” I said.
“Seven. That will get us to Bee’s wedding.”
I had to admit, I was surprised. “Agreed. Other fine print?”
“You can’t just go on a couple of dates and call it multiple because that’s what it would be for you. If you’re going to be me, you have to be all me. Lots of dates. Like, every night.”
“Ambrose,” I said. “I have to work.”
“I work!” I just looked at him. “Let’s say you have to do at least three a week.”
“Three?” I said. “One.”
“Please,” he replied, looking offended. “Two or no deal.”
I sighed. “Fine. Two it is. And what does the winner get?”
“Hmmm.” He leaned against the door, rubbing his chin like it actually helped him think. “If I win, I get to decide who you go out with next. And it can be anybody, you can’t dispute or refuse, no takesies backsies.”
“Takesies backsies? What are you, twelve?” I said. “And what about if I win?”
“You won’t,” he said, again so confidently. “But if we’re talking hypothetical, that would mean I couldn’t be a one-woman man, so you also get to pickmynext prospect.”
I stuck out my hand. “I have to admit,” I said, “I’m not totally sure why you’re agreeing to this.”
