A Girl Like You by vinnie Kinsella (good books to read for 12 year olds .TXT) 📕

“You can tell me what a shit bag he was.”

“Total shit. He’ll make a terrible school counselor.”

“He will, right?” Maddy’s voice had a bit of hopefulness.

“The worst.”

“It shouldn’t be this hard, should it?”

“Not for you, babe.” I tousled her hair.

“Not for any of us,” she sighed.

40

After seven months of online dating, I no longer watched Netflix and had cut back on my Amazon shopping considerably. I’d get home from work, make spinach salad with warm chicken, take Pen-Pen for a little walk, settle on the couch, and start looking.

But I wasn’t even close to figuring it out.

My inbox wasn’t filling up with messages from men making the first move. Maybe they were waiting for me to take initiative? But as I quickly discovered, most guys ignored my messages entirely. It was like messaging into an abyss.

Not for the first time, it occurred to me I might be doing it all wrong.

I’d started out with the casual, hopefully unintimidating approach: “Hey, how’s it going tonight?”

It seemed like such an easy question to answer, but after sending it out to a dozen or so guys, I hadn’t gotten a single response. I changed my tactic, reading their profiles and picking out little tidbits way down at the end to prove I’d studied everything they had to tell about themselves.

“Hey! I like Cold Play too…what’s your fave song?” I asked MusicMan.

No response.

“Hey! I’m also a Halloween fanatic. What’s your favorite horror movie?” I asked PumpkinGuy.

Come on, that was a simple question to answer and could have led to a lively conversation… if he’d replied.

“Hey! I see you have an iguana…that’s an unusual pet…I feel ordinary just having a regular dog.”

No response from iguana man? That was a downer. How many messages could he possibly get in a week from women interested in his reptile? Was it even a reptile?

I decided it was the exclamation marks that made me appear overly eager and therefore verging on desperate. Take it down a notch, I told myself.

“Hey. I also have two adult children and spend much of my spare time with them. Do you have sons or daughters?”

Blech! That had to be the world’s most boring online dating message ever. I was putting myself to sleep.

“Never ask questions that require one-word answers!” Madison scolded. “You’re supposed to sound flirty and energetic! And don’t say hanging out with your kids is your social life!”

“It is my social life.”

“I know, but never admit it, Mombo! Pretend you have an actual life!”

Penny, who had been dozing at my feet, stirred and looked up at me, giving me her all-knowing dog stare, making me believe she had me figured out. Maybe she did know me better than I knew myself. I wished she could share her wisdom with me.

Ian came into the room, opened the fridge, looked inside, and closed it again. “Dad’s in town,” he said, trying and failing to sound casual.

I didn’t look up from my book.

“You think he might like to stop by the house for a couple minutes?”

I closed my book. “Ian, if you’re trying to make your parents be friendly, it’s not going to happen. He checked out of my life a long time ago, and I don’t care to revisit that.”

“I’m going to meet him at Roger’s Rock for dinner. You wanta come, Madd?”

Madison hesitated. In the years since he’d been gone, she had seen him only a couple of times. She’d told me Adam texted her almost every day, but she didn’t elaborate on whether she texted him back.

“Maybe next time,” she said at last.

“He said tell you you’re always invited,” Ian said.

“Tell him thanks.”

“Have fun,” I said.

“OK, well, I’ll tell him you said hi, Mom.”

“Ian!” I tried to use my authoritative mom voice, but he was already out the door.

41

“Worst date ever,” Maddy said as she loaded jeans into the washer.

“Don’t stuff so much in there; nothing will come out clean,” I told her.

Ignoring me, she piled in hoodies until the washing machine was filled to the brim.

I sighed. She would never learn.

“Come sit; I’ll make tea.”

Madison settled at the kitchen table. “I need more than tea. This is a three-alarm call for chocolate.”

“Oreos or ice cream? Oh, I’ve also got Kit Kat bars, those little snack size ones.”

“Oreos,” she said miserably. “Oh hell, give me the ice cream too.”

I made her a bowl and set out a plate of Oreos, ready to eat them right along with her.

“He was on Bumble. We chatted for a day, then switched to texting, then we talked at night.”

“Name?”

“Bruce,” Maddy said, scooping up ice cream with half an Oreo. “We like the Cake song ‘Love You Madly.’”

“Oh, I love that song,” I broke in.

“Anyway,” Madd continued patiently. “We both like scary movies, pesto pizza, The Walking Dead, he also has a younger brother….”

“Sounds promising.”

“Yeah, it did, so we went to Nick’s.”

“Good choice.” I twisted an Oreo in half and licked the center, remembering my first date at Nick’s Tavern with Michael when he had seemed charming and attentive and not a selfish vain stoner.

“He was there first and was almost falling off the bar stool, he was so drunk.”

“Maybe he was just nervous?”

“Mom, he had five beers in an hour.”

“OK, so that’s a lot of beer,” I conceded.

“He kept talking without moving his lips, but when he finally smiled, he had teeth the color of corn kernels. OK, my teeth aren’t exactly dazzling, but Bruce looked like he hasn’t seen a dentist his entire adult life.”

“You have excellent teeth!” I said, defending her pearly whites.

“I was so stupid,” she groaned. “I broke the closed-lip smile rule.”

“The what?”

“If they keep their teeth hidden in their profile pics, it’s a good bet their teeth are a mess.”

I made a mental note to add this tidbit to my online dating rule book.

“Then he ordered food—some sloppy bacon cheeseburger—and I felt compelled to order something.”

“What’d you have?” I was always curious about food.

“Chopped salad,” she said. “But the server forgot what kind of dressing I wanted