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Is that too much to ask for?

I’m trying to stay open to the opportunity for online dating. Rowan seems like she’s figured it all out. She’s also more outgoing, spunky, and knows how to flirt with guys.

Half the time, I can’t tell when a guy is flirting with me, unless he spells it out for me. Like the guy last year who told me he was wooing me. We were walking out of class together, and I nearly tripped and fell face-first down the stairs when he gave me that line.

I hadn’t even realized he was showing any interest in me.

I gave him a chance, went out on a handful of dates with him because he was cute, but we had nothing in common. And quite honestly, the dates were bland. He spent most of the time talking and I barely got a word in. I thought he was just nervous. Looking back, I think he was just awkward around girls. I gave it three dates, but there was zero chemistry and I didn’t want to lead him on.

Seems I’ve moved from awkward guys to hockey players. I swear if Rowan changed the settings on my dating app … it seems like something she’d do, but I can’t remember her having access to my phone without me around.

Hockey players are the worst of all the jocks. Not only do they love getting in fights, but it’s also practically a requirement of the sport. Dating a hockey player should come with a black box warning label.

Not that I’ve technically dated one.

I’ve kissed one, been blocked by another, and now a third is messaging me. I’m already in over my head.

I still can’t believe the nerve Myles Dax had to get Rowan and me booted from the arena, all over that silly text Rowan sent on the app. I shouldn’t even care, but I do.

I care too much. That’s not my best trait at times, but it’s who I am. Take it or leave it.

Dating is hard.

It sucks meeting new people, trying to figure out whether you’re compatible or not. I thought Myles and I might actually be compatible. The app ranked us pretty high, but, well, apps can be wrong. It’s all driven by an algorithm, and who’s to say that the answers he put were truthful?

He could have lied, answered how he thought he should answer, not the truth.

From what I saw, his profile looked promising, but I’d bet it’s fake. He’s just trying to trip up girls to go out with him and then proceed to tell them how he’s a famous hockey player for the NHL. I can see him trying to convince the girls he dates to go home with him, and you bet he never calls them again. He probably even blocks them after sleeping together.

Just like his smile and his kindness, it’s all an act. It’s fake because he’s a phony. Ugh, hockey players are the worst! Why am I even entertaining the idea of dating one? I need to shut this down real fast.

Me: Thanks for your message, but I’m not interested in meeting any more hockey players.

Conrad: Are you sure? I saw you tonight, things got quite heated.

Heated is the understatement of the century.

I stare at the screen for a good minute as I type, erase, type, erase.

Me: Heated? You mean me wanting to kill your teammate?

He’s quick to respond, and I glance at his dating profile while he’s typing. He’s cute. Although we don’t have a ton in common, I agree with his turn offs, most of them. The threesomes as a turn off is up in the air. I’ve never had a threesome, but I wouldn’t call it a turnoff. I’d actually be open to it.

The others on his list: cheaters, liars, racists, and homophobes are definite turn offs; in fact, those types of guys I’d consider bottom feeders. I have zero interest in guys like that too, but it’s a bit cliché, isn’t it? His profile doesn’t exactly tell me anything substantial about him.

He enjoys sports. Well, that’s not much of a surprise. He left off anything the least bit juicy in his profile, but he did use his real picture. It’s black and white, makes him look relaxed, friendly, but I’d have never guessed he’s a professional hockey player if I hadn’t seen him at the bar.

The message pings, and I glance at our texting thread.

Conrad: You have a sense of humor. I like it.

Me: Why are you on here? You’re a hockey player. I’m sure you get tons of girls hitting on you.

Conrad: I do, but sometimes it’s nice to meet a girl who doesn’t know what I do for a living … cat is out of the bag on that one. Speaking of pets, cat or dog person?

Real smooth. He changes the subject, and I go along with it because there is something about him that I find intriguing. Would I date him? I don’t know. But what’s the harm in sending texts? I could use to end this night on a bit of a high note, especially after the fight with Myles.

I’m not sure what I was hoping to achieve, stalking up to that asshole, demanding to know if he was the reason we were kicked out of the arena. Maybe a small part of me was expecting an apology, an explanation, something.