Zola flicked back her braids, suddenly needing to gently dab the tears sneaking out from the sides of her eyes. She stood up, clearing her throat.
‘I’m ready when you are, babe!’
Chapter Thirteen
Ella
We headed to Flute Champagne, the bar where Katy had booked our singles night. I honestly couldn’t be arsed with speaking to anyone, let alone a man who wanted to test his cheesy chat-up lines on me. However, I was intrigued by the New York dating scene. I was sure there would be similarities to the one in Glasgow, but I also knew there would be some differences. If this app was going to succeed, I had to be aware of all of them.
The Flute was a relatively small bar, so we followed the signs and headed upstairs to the event space. The dim lighting, red velvet sofas and private booths made me feel like I had entered some seedy gentlemen’s club. We approached the woman who seemed to be the organiser; she was directing the men to a separate room of the bar and, when she was free, we introduced ourselves. She handed us our name tags and explained that we would each have three minutes with each date, then a bell would ding and we’d get up and move on to the following available table. We’d mark each man using a traffic light system, and if he also gave you a green light, you’d be sent his number at the end of the night.
I glanced at Katy, who seemed genuinely excited about the prospect of meeting multiple single men, then at Zola, who was still a bit zoned out from her call with Curtis. I popped my hand on her shoulder and pulled her in tightly.
‘You OK?’ I asked. ‘We could go home, if you’d prefer? I know the research is vital, but I’m more than up for any excuse to leave.’
She giggled bravely, shaking her head. ‘I’m good, babe. I need a distraction.’
Katy squeezed in between us. ‘And I need a dick-straction. Today was traumatic!’
‘OK, ladies! The men are about to take their seats,’ the woman called out, ‘and you will be free to mingle. Remember, use your time wisely!’
And then the door opened.
A pack of men who had been held in another room came busting in, aiming for the more secluded booth spots. As soon as they were all sat down, the bell rang.
‘Here we go!’ Zola mumbled, as we headed towards the available tables.
I sat down opposite a tall, slim man and smiled awkwardly. It felt strange, and I hadn’t thought of a script or prepared how I would interrogate the daters.
‘Hey .?.?. Bill.’ I pointed to his name badge. ‘I’m Ella.’
‘Sorry, can you repeat that?’ he asked, turning his head to show me his ear.
‘I’m Ella,’ I said a little slower.
‘Once more, please, it’s the accent.’ Bill smiled, slightly squinting.
I pointed to my badge and mouthed as slowly as I could. ‘ELLA.’
‘Agh, Ella. Sorry. It’s great to meet you.’ He chuckled. ‘How are things?’
I felt my pulse settle as I took him in. He was handsome in a geeky kinda way, with small, round glasses, but I couldn’t help but notice the red woollen jumper he had on, even though it was thirty degrees outside.
‘Yeah, I’m good, thanks. How are you?’ I watched him scrunch up his face as if I was speaking another language entirely, but he was clearly too polite to ask me to repeat myself yet again. Great fucking start, I thought.
I glanced over to my friends, who seemed lost in conversations at their tables, and I suddenly wished I were back at Hudson Yards with my pyjamas on and top knot in. I hated the idea of dating again, even if tonight was purely for Katy’s benefit. I hated putting myself out there. Something inside of me just almost cried at the thought of Philip and how I missed our everyday life. Fuck, right now I’d jump at the chance to be curled up on the sofa watching a Man City game.
‘So, how about I start?’ Bill jumped in. ‘My name is Bill, obviously. I work for a Wall Street trading investment firm, boring data analysis, that sort of thing.’ He laughed loudly, snorting a little. I wasn’t sure if he was nervous or just plain dorky, but his awkward friendliness made me warm to him.
‘My uhh .?.?. my last relationship was about two years ago.’ He pushed his glasses further up on his nose, seeming tense. ‘I’ve intentionally stayed single since then. I put myself right into therapy to work on improving myself and learning how to become a better partner, a better .?.?. man, I suppose. That accounts for the lapse in my dating life, but now – now I’m ready to go again.’ He sipped his water and held his hand out for me to take my turn to speak. I watched a bead of sweat glide down his forehead, and my heart felt heavy in an instant. His honesty was refreshing, admirable even. That admission couldn’t have been easy, never mind executing it with a red fucking turtleneck on.
‘OK, I’ll go slow. I’m Ella. I’m from Scotland.’ I grinned, knowing it explained the communication issue. ‘I work in PR and marketing, but I’m currently developing an app over here at a tech company. I’ve been single for .?.?.’
Fuck, not even a week. That’s if I am even single? I wasn’t actually sure. Do I admit that I’m in a sort of relationship limbo stage ? I felt my heart beating loudly in my chest. Bill had been so honest with me, but I knew I had no intention of meeting up with anyone after tonight. ‘Well .?.?. for .?.?. a while, and I suppose I would like to start dating again.’ I shrugged innocently. I couldn’t be honest. I felt terrible, but I wasn’t ready to talk about my Philip ordeal with my best friends, never mind a complete stranger. I wondered if a therapist might be the answer. ‘Do you mind me asking, Bill, what was it exactly that you thought you had to change? Like, what behaviour did you have to work through with your therapist? I love how open you are about it. Do you recommend it?’ I wondered if he was maybe too quiet or suffered as an overthinker in relationships.
He nodded. ‘Not at all. I rave about therapy to everyone! Speaking about it helps, actually.’
Wow. I wondered how Bill and Katy would get along. This was the type of man she needed. He seemed genuine and open, and he was clearly self-aware enough to seek help for his issues. His honesty was charming and he made an effort to engage in our conversation – when I spoke slowly enough. I started to wonder if maybe these New York men were different, better even, than the tracksuit-wearing neds we had back in Glasgow, whose only therapy appointment would be a mandatory background check for their latest court appearance.
