But, at least the picture of the guy was good. He was definitely attractive. His hair was dark and messy, as if he'd tried to tame it but the wind had just picked up right when the picture was taken. Green, piercing eyes the color of emeralds peered back at me from a smile that could light up a room. The photo was just a head shot, but even then, it looked like he worked out.
“He's cute in this picture,” I told Rosie. “If that's even him.”
Rosie rolled her eyes at me. “Oh ye of little faith.”
“I'm the one who has been doing this for a living,” I said. “Do you know how many guys have amazing pictures? All of them. Then, in person it turns out that it was them ten years ago. Or their roommate. Or the guy on their underwear package.”
“Just meet him, okay?” Rosie stood before me and batted her eyelashes. “If he's terrible, then you get a great article for your blog. If he's not...”
“Then you get a great 'I told you so,'” I finished for her.
I sighed again and looked at the picture again. He was really cute.
“Fine,” I promised. “Not like I have a lot of choice in the matter. Can you at least give me my user name and password so I can read through the novel you three wrote each other?”
“We did not write a novel!” Rosie replied, snatching her phone from my hands. “We just had a couple of very nice conversations. That's it.”
“Sure.” I gave her a nice smile. “User name and password?”
“HarpStrings and GonnaFindMeSomeLUV!23,” Rosie rattled off, emphasizing the capital letters. At least she had picked a decent password. I wasn't so sure on the user name, but it was too late now. Rosie chewed on her lower lip as she unconsciously rubbed her belly. Her dark brows were pulled together in fear that I'd still be mad.“Are we okay?”
“Of course we're good,” I assured her, pulling her in for another hug. “I'm not terribly pleased, especially since you let Mom in on your little secret, but your heart was in the right place.”
“Okay.” Rosie smiled and then let out an excited gasp. “He's kicking.”
She grabbed my hand and put it on her belly. It took a moment, but then I felt it. The life inside of her pushing and stretching, saying hello to the world outside. How could I be mad when I had that under my hands?
“He's getting so strong,” I murmured, lost at the awe of feeling life growing right under my fingers. “I can't wait to meet him.”
“Me too.” Rosie shifted slightly as the baby kicked hard. “You are about to have a lot of good men in your life, Harper.”
“Well, at least one,” I agreed quietly. For a moment, I hoped that I wasn't just talking about the baby.
3
“And so it is, Mr. Bathroom shall be forever memorialized for his unique ability to use a toilet as refuge from paying the bill. Ladies be warned; if you get picked up by a guy whose meal costs more than what he pays for rent, abort mission. Flee the scene. Leave before he comes back from hiding. At least today we know he gets to go back home to his mommy- let’s just all hope she preps him a little more before his next date.”
My arms fell from the keyboard as I allowed them a momentary rest. This was going to make for a great post, I could already tell. Posts like these came effortlessly with the most challenging part being accurately recalling the extent of the disaster. Every little detail was required to paint the full picture of what I had dealt with, and my readers ate it up.
As I was doing a final skim over the passage for any typos or grammatical errors, my phone buzzed obnoxiously on the table. I was usually good about not allowing my phone to distract me in the middle of writing, but because I was already mostly finished I allowed my eyes to steal a look at the notification that had popped up. It was a text message from Rosie.
I took a break to open the message and immediately regretted my decision. Her text was all of one sentence that I should have anticipated.
have you looked at it yet??
After putting the phone down, I sighed. I wanted to return to editing my post but I knew it would cause me to forget about the message entirely. My brain was good at forgetting to respond to conversations I didn’t want to have.
Not yet. I’m working
I locked my phone and put it face down on the table to return to my blog. I had just begun to regain focus when I heard the buzzing of my phone again. Dear Lord, I thought. It couldn’t have been more than a minute.
OK well tell me when you do look!
Another sigh escaped as I set my phone down. I could almost see her eager face through the screen. It was the same youthful expression I always attached to Rosie when she was excited.
I glanced back to the blog post sitting like an unfinished painting on the screen in front of me. It was going to be good, but it needed a little more work. The editing process was crucial. As much as I hated editing, it was when I could polish the piece and ensure it had the real edge that my readers wanted.
Without thinking, I stole another look at my phone. Her quick response was evidence that she was sitting in anticipation and it was almost as if she was sitting in the room with me, bouncing on her feet and distracting me. Oh Rosie, I muttered to myself. She had officially succeeded in stealing my attention away from my work. I guess I could use a break, I thought.
I picked up my phone and typed a quick response.
fine you win. I’ll look right now.
I imagined Rosie’s smiling face as I sent the message and felt relief in knowing that at least I was making someone happy. I scanned the desk for the post-it note I had used to write down the log in info. For a second I caught myself wishing it had gotten lost—as if that somehow would magically make the profile vanish along with it—but I quickly found it beneath a scratch piece of paper.
It all felt odd, like I was a detective of some sort, as I logged in and opened my profile. It was familiar and yet different enough to be almost creepy. Everything was about me, but I hadn't done any of it. Even my picture at the top of the screen looked like a different person smiling back at me. I need to change this picture if I want this profile to go anywhere, I thought to myself. I looked far to innocent and happy to be on a dating site. Below the picture was a small space for a bio with a few short sentences Rosie had already written.
I’m Harper! I’m smart and single living in Miami and enjoying that warm Florida sun. I love writing and football. (Go Bluejays!) I'm also a big fan of long walks on the beach and getting caught in the rain.
Immediately the passage irked me. I would never use something as trite as “getting caught in the rain” on a profile. I reread the sentences a few more times, each time leaving more of a sour taste in my mouth. This was going to be a disaster.
Her description wasn’t wrong, at least not factually. And it probably wasn’t all that out of place for the Internet, but it was drastically different than anything I would have written. I would have never described myself this way in a million years. The passage was way too happy and optimistic. It read like the bio of a young high school girl and it sounded… preppy? How in the world had they derived a preppy sounding bio with me in mind?