Overwhelmed by the options, Rae just said, “Green, please.” Immediately she regretted her decision, wishing she’d selected something more exotic, but she didn’t want to change her mind now and risk seeming wishy-washy. She wondered if she’d ever go on a first date where she wasn’t plagued by self-doubt—maybe that’s when she’d know she’d met her soul mate?
As he was fetching their tea from the counter, Rae noticed a book sticking out of his briefcase. She felt a surge of hope before reading the cover:No Risk, No Reward: How to Find Yield in a Low-Growth Environment.
It was confirmed. He was just another one-dimensional finance bro. Fatigue pressed in on her from all sides, and she wished she’d gone straight home.
Dustin returned with green tea for both of them, and they sipped in silence. Her hands felt very awkward, and she worried she was going to drop the dainty teacup and smash it to bits. She had a new appreciation for why first dates usually involved alcohol. Tea shop courtship was more romantic in theory than in practice.
“The bookshelves are nice,” Rae commented.
Dustin nodded. “They are.”
He seemed like one of those guys who was too cool to be bothered with small talk. He’d probably only gotten his job because he was a well-connected white guy who’d reminded his washed-up interviewers of their own heyday.
“So what kind of an investment banker are you?” Dustin finally asked.
The kind who wants to be a poet instead.“I focus on M&A within the software sector,” was what she said aloud, knowing he’d understand the mergers and acquisitions acronym. “You work in finance too?” She arranged her face in what she hoped was an authentically unaware expression that didn’t reveal how she’d memorized his entire résumé and family tree, out to his great-aunt Carol who had a Twitter account of cat memes.
Dustin nodded. “I’m a macro equities trader, across asset classes.”
And so that’s what they talked about for the rest of the time—the ins and outs of market volatility and views on when the next recession would hit.
Dustin was the one to wrap it up, before the hour mark, saying he had to wake up early to dial into a conference call in Europe. Rae felt the slap in the face of her own trick being used against her.
They followed the end-of-date template—she halfheartedly offered to pay, Dustin halfheartedly said how nice it was to meet her, and they halfheartedly hugged under the tea shop’s flapping awning before fully parting ways.
As she trudged up the stairs of the penthouse, Rae took out a sticky note and scribbled her eleventh haiku:
First date eleven
one more dry finance guy I’ll
never see again.
CHAPTER SEVEN
TRENDING UPWARD
“I can’t believe you have aboyfriend,” Rae said to Ellen that Friday as she dusted the penthouse coffee table with an old sorority T-shirt.
They were hurriedly cleaning the apartment before the Tree Pose Prince’s inaugural visit. He and Ellen had defined the relationship this week after officially breaking the third-date curse.
“I know,” Ellen said, wiping down the bathroom mirror and getting distracted by evaluating whether her eyebrows were even. “Are you paying him under the table?”
“I didn’t mean it like that,” Rae said. “It’s just … you’ve only known each other two weeks.”
“Feels like two years,” Ellen said. “We just … click.”
Rae tried not to feel threatened by how quickly this new entrant was gaining market share in Ellen’s heart. “I’m still not sure the Tree Pose Prince is worthy of you.”
“Don’t tell Aaron we call him that, okay?” Ellen warned. “I don’t want to come across as too young. He’sthirty-three.”
“So you’ve mentioned,” Rae said. Ellen kept dropping references about howmatureandestablishedhe was.
Personally, Rae hoped she wouldn’t be going on dates in sixth-floor walk-ups when she was in her thirties, but Aaron at least seemed to realize Ellen was worth the trek.
“What’s that smell?” Rae said, scrunching her nose. It was far different from the typical charred-eggs odor.
“Organic toilet bowl cleaner!” Ellen said proudly. “Lavender scented.”
