Thursday
I've gone with the wool dress in the end. I hate being cold. The fact that it's also super sexy is completely beside the point. Paired with knee high brown boots, a scarf, and my hair tied up in an artistically messy bun, I'm ready to go. As I walk past the mirror, I momentarily wonder what CuteTramGuy would think about this outfit. I think he'd approve.
CareToDance has chosen an okay coffee spot, though I get the feeling he's Urban-Spooned it. Nothing wrong with that, I suppose, but where's the love? It also happens to be only two blocks from my place, so despite my intentions of being fashionably late, I turn up early. Oh well, can't win them all. As he doesn't appear to be here, I find a table and pull out my phone to check his details again.
Real name is Jackson, or 'Jacko'. Not great, but possibly not his fault. The rest of his stats are rather average: average age (31 - not too old, not too young), average height, average build. I didn't notice it so much the first time, but his hair is dull brown, straight and limp. In one of the photos it's shoulder length, which I'm not so sure about, but his main photo has it suitably short. Doesn't smoke, doesn't do drugs, drinks socially. All good. No kids, but wants them, which is nice. Has a dog, win.
I keep scanning the street outside as I'm reading, staring awkwardly at any possible matches until they give me the evil eye and walk away. I'm just reading through his education - no college, not an immediate no, but not a great sign - when I hear my name. He's standing with bike helmet still on, coloured business shirt open over a worn, black t-shirt, and one leg of his brown corduroy pants tucked into his sock. I try to give him the benefit of the doubt - it is very practical.
He takes off his helmet and shakes out his unbrushed, shoulder length, limp hair. He ties it back with a hair band from around his wrist.
Try to be positive ? Try to be positive ? Well, he has nice eyes. There, that's something.
I extend my hand just as he comes in for a hug, so accidentally punch him in the stomach. Not a great start.
'Sorry. Hi, I'm Laurie.'
'Call me Jacko. Wow, you're like, really hot.' He's staring.
'Thanks.' I'm suddenly very conscious of how figure hugging the wool dress is. 'Shall we order?' I hold my stomach in as we walk up to the counter.
Now, I know it's wrong to judge a person by the type of coffee they order, but I might as well be honest and admit I do it all the same. So who orders mint syrup added to their cappuccino?
Jacko turns to me with a smile. 'You should try it. It's like you're brushing your teeth at the same time.'
I literally have no words, so just smile inanely.
I order a short black and some biscotti, both because I love them and because I can polish them off in a hurry if I have to. I'm already getting the sense I'll have to. We take a seat on metal stools tucked in the corner between a green wall and polished concrete. Our table is a reclaimed door. Instead of table numbers, we've been given a superman figurine, which Jacko displays prominently.
I've looked around and admired the scenery for as long as is socially acceptable. Time to find something to say.
'So, you said you were an entrepreneur, that sounds interesting.'
'Well, you know. I've run a few companies. At the moment I'm working on a project I think is going to be huge. I'll tell you, if you promise not to steal the idea.' He throws his head back and laughs.
I look to either side to see if the laugh disturbs anyone else. 'Um, yeah, okay.'
He leans in close. 'So, do you smoke?'
'Ah, no.' Seems an abrupt change of topic, and already stated in my profile.
'Come on, everyone secretly smokes.'
I sit back. 'No, really I don't.'
'Okay, well, whatever. For all those people out there who want to smoke but need to keep it a secret, I'm developing a filter system which you put on the end of your cigarette and it hides the smoke smell.' He sits back as if he's just announced the solution to world hunger.
'But, doesn't a lot of the smoke come from when you breathe out?' Just to fill in the silence I continue, 'I mean, breathing in the smoke is the point of having a cigarette, and then you need to expel it. So, really, you would need some sort of gas mask that captures the smoke on the way out before it gets on your clothes.' I start thinking this through. 'But of course, you'd then need something to freshen your breath. Maybe it gives you a puff of mint so it's like brushing your teeth.'
I can't believe I just said that. It shows how desperate for conversation I am.
Thank God our drinks arrive. But before I can take a sip, Jacko cuts in. 'Wow, that's amazing, do you mind if I patent it?'
'No, be my guest.'
He pulls out a notepad and pen, but keeps talking as he scribbles. 'You know, the creative brain, it's such a mystery. I find it fascinating. It's one of the reasons I liked you, your innate understanding of the creative process.'
Considering he contacted me before I'd put up any information, he's basing this on the fact my user name is 'Writing Taco'. I really feel that's a strike against my creativity, not for it.
He finishes what he's writing then sits back with his legs crossed. 'So who's the most famous author you've worked with?'
Another abrupt change of topic? 'Well, you know, the company has a number of prestigious clients. However, I deal mainly with the emerging writers.'
'Come on, no need to be shy. Bryce Courtenay, do you do his stuff?'
'Well, he's dead now, and no.'
'Oh. What about Matthew Reilly, how about him?'
Is he really going through all the top selling Australian authors he can think of? 'No, not Matthew Reilly either. You know, there are a lot of different forms of representation out there for Australian authors.'
'There must be one you can tell me about.'
I'm getting sick of Jacko and want this conversation to be over. 'Well, fine. I'm working with Timothy Farren on his new book.'
'Is that the guy who wrote about cutting off his own arm?'
'No. He was American. Timothy Farren wrote the prominent coming of age book Killing Keeley.'
'Did they make a film out of that?'
'Yes, it won a number of awards.'
'Nah, haven't seen it.' He goes back to drinking his coffee.
I down my short black in one move, then stuff the biscotti into my mouth. Before I can swallow, he comes up with another question. 'So, what types of movies do you like?'
I elegantly cough out biscuit crumbs, then try to make up for it. 'Well, you know, anything that's showing at Nova.'
'Isn't that an artsy cinema?'
'Well, I'm an 'artsy' girl.' I realise my pitch is rising, and do my best to relax.
'But what about the big blockbusters?'
I shrug. 'I might see them with a friend, but wouldn't go out of my way.'
'Did you see the most recent Thor movie? It was awesome. I'm sure you'd love it.'
'Norse gods with no shirts on? Doesn't really sound like my thing.'
'Nah, you have to watch it for all the science. It's really awesome how they explain all those old stories in technological terms.'
'So, exactly what technology do they use to explain his super-powerful flying hammer?'
'So you have seen it!'
Darn. 'I only saw the first one with a friend.' Thank you Jessica. And where exactly are you? Am waiting for my emergency call.
'Everyone loves to bag these types of movies, but I think they really show some insight into the human psyche.'
'So, going back to your business ?' I'm not sure I really want to, but feel it would be better than finding out Jacko's insights into the human psyche. 'Have you actually developed any products?'
'No, not yet.'
'Oh, right. And these other companies you run?'
'Well, I've registered the business names for a couple, and ran a tutoring company a while back.'
'So, what do you spend your days doing now?'
'Most of my time is
taken up with bloody Centrelink. Do you know how hard it is to get welfare these days?'
'I really wouldn't know.' Okay, that was a bit bitchy, but if I can work in a cruddy call-centre, then so can Jacko. Then I mightn't have to pay so much tax.
Finally my phone rings in my hand. I jump up. 'Sorry, have to take this.'
'Is that your agent? Hey, you can tell her I have a screenplay she might be interested in. It's about monkeys in space.'
'Sorry, it's not my agent, it's my friend, she's having a baby. I said I'd be the birth partner, just a moment!'
I answer the call. 'Jessica, is that you? Is everything alright?'
'No, it's Amelia. Who's Jessica?' Darn, should have looked at the screen before picking up. So it is my agent, but there's no way I'm telling her I'm on a date with a guy who's written a screenplay about monkeys in space.
'Oh, is it serious?' I try to sound concerned, as if I were talking to a woman in labour.
'Serious? No, not really. I just wanted to know if you had finished with the manuscripts?'
'Of course, I have everything prepared.'
'Laurie, are you feeling alright?'
'Don't think of me at a time like this. You stay focused on what you need to do.'
I then hang up before Amelia can ask me any more awkward questions. Wow, my inventive skills are really not good when put on the spot.
'I'm sorry, I have to go, she needs me straight away.'
Jacko has tuned out and is checking out the other girls in the cafe. 'Oh, yeah, fine. It was nice to meet you. I'll call you, we should do this again.'
I mutter something noncommittal and try to walk out in an apparent hurry while still looking stylish in my fitted dress. As soon as I'm around the corner I text my brother. I need someone who'll fully appreciate the situation. He agrees to meet me at a place a few blocks over in twenty minutes.
Well, at least meeting Jacko makes me feel a whole lot better about my life. Does that make me a bad person?
It's not that my brother has a higher IQ than I do, he just seems to understand the world much better. For example, he made the sensible choice to do Arts/Law instead of straight Arts. So he now has a decent job and all the benefits that go with it, like a real income.
I walk up the laneway to find him leaning nonchalantly against an artistically graffitied wall; dark rimmed glasses on, light brown hair combed into smooth waves, and his beautifully tailored suit open at the throat. He's also holding two coffees, one of which I dive on like a mad woman. I might not need the caffeine, but I desperately need the sense of completeness steaming coffee brings to my life.
'That bad, huh?'
'Hey Hadley. Sorry, yeah, really need this. By the way, why aren't we at Mark and Geoff's?'
Mark, Geoff and Hadley all did law together. However, a few years out Mark and Geoff decided they hated the whole corporate thing so quit to start their own cafe. No complaints here; they give us cheap coffee. Also, it helps that Mark's really cute. I know nothing would ever happen between us because a) it'd be cradle snatching and b) he probably thinks I'm ancient, but I like to look.
'They've closed for the day. Some business thing.'
'A business thing? But what about all of us who need coffee? Sometimes people are so selfish.' I hang my head in sorrow for humanity, but then tuck back into the coffee on hand.
Hadley motions to a set of crates with cushions on them. 'Take a seat and tell me all about it.'
I unwind myself from my satchel and sit down. The crate is lower than I'd mentally prepared for so there's a bump, thump, and then a splash and swearing as my coffee retaliates.
'Here.' Hadley tosses me the handkerchief from his top pocket. 'So, everything still on for tomorrow night?'
I mentally flick through my strangely crowded itinerary: tomorrow is ? Friday. Friday night is ? book launch. Okay, up to speed.
'No, that should be fine,' I say while delicately sucking on my fingers. 'In fact,' I pause to perfect my detached, this-happens-to-me-all-the-time attitude, 'Amelia wants me to discuss with Timothy Farren what I can do to help him with his next book.'
Hadley doesn't buy my sangfroid front for a moment, but like a good brother enters into the awesomeness of the situation. 'That'd be amazing on so many levels!'
I drop the act. 'I know, right?'
'So what's the new book about?'
'Oh, that, right ? well, that's part of the problem: I don't think he knows about the new book yet. My job is to convince him it's a good idea. But I'll find out more tomorrow night.'
Hadley glances over the rim of his coffee at me. 'You aren't going to go all crazy fan girl on him, are you?'
'No! ? Well, not much. That's why I need you there. That and Amelia wants me to bring a date.'
'Don't worry, I'll bring a straight jacket. Anyway,' he takes a long sip of his coffee, 'If it's not the book launch, what's brought you out here?' He has a smile playing on his lips that I can't account for, but I feel it's a bad sign.
I try to brush it off as normal little brother annoying-ness, but it taunts my already mortified soul. I can't bring myself to mention the date yet. 'So, you heard about Yanie's wedding?'
'In seven weeks?'
'Yeah. Do you know what's up with that? If it were anyone else I'd think she was pregnant, but that's not going to be the case.'
'She hasn't confided in me. Maybe there's a venue she really likes?'
'Unlikely, we've had the venue planned since she was five, and it won't have come up in a rush.'
Hadley shrugged. 'Well, I'm sure we'll find out on Saturday.' He drops back into annoying, smiling silence, and I'm left trying to find a neat segue into my important question.
This isn't it, but I pretend it is all the same. 'By the way, you'll be going to the wedding stag, right? Halley will still be in DC?'
'Nah. We skyped this morning, and she might be able to get some leave around then. Yanie's asked her to be a bridesmaid.'
'Really? Do you know who the groomsmen are?'
'Hoping to pick up?'
'Hey, not fair.' And totally untrue: that will be far too late, especially now I know everyone else has a date.
'Well, Tony hasn't said anything, but from what Yanie told Halley,' my mind quickly registers the fact Yanie and Halley talk, though Halley has never tried to contact me. Not that I'm paranoid or anything. I tune back into the conversation. 'It'll be his younger brother Ed, some friend from work, and Rick, their small group leader.'
No luck there anyway, Rick's married with like a dozen children, and 'friend from work' does not inspire confidence. I move on. 'So, if Halley's one of the bridesmaids, but she's in DC for most of the time, and the other is definitely going to be sweet but flakey Samantha ?'
'Yeah, you're going to be stuck doing most of the work. Yanie's already putting together folders for you to look at.'
The image of a wall of wedding magazines and etiquette books avalanching over me fixes itself in my head. 'Well, since you've such excellent taste, you should be our consultant!'
'Good try Sis, but I've already offered my services as official photographer. Turn up on the day, take lots of photos, no prior commitment and a good excuse to move on from any awful conversations.'
'Darn, I wish I'd thought of that ? and could take photos.'
Hadley smiles again and sips at his coffee. It's not a friendly smile. It's more like a 'Hello Clarice' smile. Finally he says, 'So, tell me about this internet dating thing.'
I splutter hot liquid everywhere. 'What?'
'Oh come on, did you really think I wouldn't hear about it?'
I sometimes wonder if my brother actually works for MI5 - or at least ASIO, the not so cool Australian equivalent - as it would explain a lot about him.
'But how did you find out?'
He shows me his phone. Betty from work has posted on Facebook asking how the date went, and if I'm dead yet.
I take a deep breath and tell myself it would be like ki
lling a chicken for clucking, in order to quell my murderous urge to immediately track down where she lives.
'So how did it go? You don't appear to be dead.' Hadley waits calmly for an answer.
'It was horrendous. There. Happy?'
'Come on, you're a writer, you can give a more enthralling description than that.'
'I don't know. We just didn't click.'
'"He was nice, normal but we just didn't click"? Or "he was really a drug dealer from Colombia" type of we just didn't click?'
'Not actually a drug dealer, but probably more along those lines. I don't even know where to begin in describing the disaster. His name was Jacko. I suppose that should've been my first warning.'
Hadley grimaces. 'Probably should've seen that one coming.'
'And he said he was an entrepreneur.'
'Which means either drug dealer or unemployed.'
'He was unemployed and on the dole. But his next great idea!' I try to mimic Jacko's enthusiasm.
'Stay well away from that.'
'Yeah, I will. But now I'm afraid I'm a weirdo magnet.'
Hadley doesn't instantly deny this. Thanks, Bro. 'Can I see your profile? I'll let you know if you're sending off crazy signals.'
'Thanks.' Though I'm not keen to show him my measly efforts. I know I should've put more time into it, but when it was only strangers looking it didn't worry me. Oh well.
I log into the site on my iPad, then pass it across to Hadley who starts flicking through the photos.
'Hmmm, for starters.' He pulls out his iPhone. 'Smile.' Due to years of conditioning, I smile before I realise what he's doing. He then takes a few more while I'm scrabbling to make myself more presentable. Just when I think I've got my hair sorted, he turns away and continues tapping at the phone's screen. A few moment's later and he's back on my iPad.
Clearly it's going to take him a while to work his magic, so I pull out my phone and open up Facebook. Now where's Betty? I think I'll do this in a private message.
Betty, have you been telling everyone I'm trying internet dating? That was meant to be top secret!
A few moments later the message icon blinks.
Oh Laurie, I'm so sorry! I just assumed that, well, if I knew, then everyone must.
The photo of her chubby face smiles pleadingly at me.
Well, not everyone must. You're part of my very secret circle of internet dating initiates. So no more posting about it. I close my phone with a shake of my head.
'There, much better.' Hadley hands back the iPad. The photo he just took manages to catch the afternoon light falling behind me. The alleyway looks artistic, and I'm perfectly at ease with my coffee. He's added a few filters for that vintage touch. It's me as I always secretly hoped I looked.
'I'd also change your name, taco girl, and I'd leave out the part about reading other people's manuscripts. Make it sound a bit more The New Yorker, and less Bridget Jones' Diary. Talking about writing ?'
I sigh. 'No, I haven't tried sending it off to anyone else. Amelia is still promising faithfully she's going to give it to one of her contacts.'
'It's not two-timing to send your manuscript to other agents. I don't know why you don't send it over to America, or even the UK.'
'I want to support the Australian publishing industry. We might not be as big as America or the UK, but we produce high quality stuff.'
'Like the unwritten next book by Timothy Farren?'
'Hey, you loved Killing Keeley.'
'The sequel was a bit of a flop.'
'I think it's a classic.' I hold my chin up in defiance.
'Yes, but you've had a crush on Mr. Farren since you were in high school.'
I'm not prepared to cede on this point. 'I don't think that proves anything.'
'Well, maybe tomorrow night you can show him your manuscript. You never know, he may have other contacts.'
'The amount of time Amelia spends running around for him, I doubt it.'
'By the way, how's the blog going?'
I sigh. He's referring to my coffee blog - Bean Missing You - part of my fantastic author platform that was going to collect hundreds of followers all dying to buy my book when it came out. Hah.
'Still just you and the bots.'
'You know, you could try posting more often. I mean, the writing's not bad, but it's easy to forget about it when nothing comes out for a while.'
The fact that he is completely correct doesn't make the feedback any more welcome. 'I know, but I've been busy lately.'
Hadley purses his lips for a second, and I know he's holding back a scathing comment on how busy my unemployed life must be. I'm grateful he doesn't go into Mum mode. I give a one-shouldered shrug. 'Okay, I'll work on it.'
'Why not write up about the Jacko date?'
'You mean the coffee place we visited? It wasn't bad I suppose.'
'Lau,' he reaches across and takes my hand. 'Don't take this the wrong way, the writing on the blog is really good ?'
I tense. 'But?'
'But the topic matter is really boring.'
It's like I've been punched. 'Coffee? Boring? It's like ? like the antithesis of boring!'
He pats the hand he's still holding. 'Drinking coffee, yes. Reading about it??'
I draw my hand back, outraged at his betrayal and annoyed at his being right all the time.
'I'm not saying to get rid of the blog, but you could expand the reach. You're great at writing caricatures of people and events. Maybe put more practice into that.'
I flop like a jellyfish as the fight goes out of me. 'That's actually pretty good advice, darn you.'
'Well, people have been known to pay me hundreds of dollars to give them advice. But I consider you my pro bono work.' He gives me a wink before standing up. 'Until tomorrow.' He salutes and I watch him walk away, as always amused by how unconscious he is of the girls trying to get his attention.
I shake my head then check the time. I've still got a while before I need to get ready for work, so might as well take advantage of the bohemian atmosphere to see what I can do with this blog.
In the end I decide to paint the whole sorry date; Jacko with his ponytail and mad cigarette filter idea, my awful attempt at improvisation on the phone, and the fact I can never go back to that cafe again. As I'm writing, I get caught up and start making a list of deal-breakers guys on first dates should avoid. I feel Jacko should have some purpose in life, even if it's just to serve as a warning to others. Once I get going, it's easy to think of things; like not introducing yourself by dubious nicknames until you've gotten a feel for things. Or, don't accuse a girl you've just met of lying about smoking. And, put some effort into your personal appearance, at least for the first date.
As I post it, I do have a qualm of conscience. It's biting. But since my readership consists entirely of Hadley, Jessica, Google's bots and a random Brazilian, it's unlikely any of them is going to know Jacko.
I stretch back and gaze at the afternoon sun. Overall verdict on internet dating's first offering? Well, it wasn't a complete waste of time: I got a nice coffee and a good blog post out of it. Though, some room for improvement, obviously. For example, next time I'm aiming for a conversation that doesn't make me want to kill myself. A girl's gotta have goals.
And then there's tomorrow night. What have I got planned? Oh, you know, not much, just attend a glamorous literary event, meet Mr. Timothy Farren - love of my life - convince him to write a book and then break up with him. How hard could that be?
Thank you for reading Episode 1 of Virtually Ideal.
If you enjoyed it, please leave a review at your favourite retailer.
And if you're interested in trying internet dating, and being more successful than Laurie, check out my non-fiction work:
The Nice Guy's Guide To Online Dating Profiles
It was written for men like my father who struggled to present himself well to the girl of his dreams (luckily she took him anyway).
A gr
eat read for both guys and girls.
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