I have officially lost my mind.
I’ll figure out how I’m going to deal with my… issues. But for now, I’m focusing on the positive. I have a date… sort of. It’s just pretend but… yeah, I’m going to treat it like a date because dammit I want a nice date and a refresher on exactly how to date.
As I drive home from Mac's, I can’t help the smile that lights up my face. It’s silly, I know. The very idea of Charlie going on a date with me is laughable. I get that.
But I still let my imagination run wild as I drive back into the city.
Fantasies about Charlie picking me up for the wedding run through my head and I just laugh it off. I’d wear a pretty pale blue dress, lacy but not scandalous, and dark blue heels. A giddy squeal leaves me when I imagine opening the front door to my apartment, and he takes a moment to look at me. Really look at me, and drink me in.
Standing there in his wedding tux, I assume… since he’s probably a groomsman, he looks fucking dashing. In the fantasy, I bite my lip and look downward, trying not to show him all the emotions just beneath the surface.
He whistles, long and low. My eyes drift up, catching his.
“Damn, you are the kind of girl I’d like to date,” he says. “As a matter of fact, I think you’d look even better if you were carrying my child…”
I can’t help but laugh out loud in my car as I pull into my parking spot. My reverie fizzles away, gone like smoke. How ridiculous!
Okay, so the real Charlie definitely wouldn’t say that and that’s not how this is going to go down, but I’d rather think of that than my nearly-forgotten, crap date from tonight. My cheeks hurt from smiling as I turn the car off and shake my head. I need to get my head on straight, because going to Charlie’s sister’s wedding isn’t even a real date. I’m probably not even on his radar, for God’s sake. It’s just meaningless flirting. For all I know, he’s not actually going to go through with this plan.
Yeah it’s definitely not going to happen and that’s just fine. It’s fun to daydream though. So long as my silly little heart keeps itself in check. Charlie is a friend and nothing else.
Sighing as I get out of my car, I lock up the idea at the same time as I lock up my car and then climb the two flights of stairs to my apartment. Only on the tenth stair do I feel the weight of the drinks I’ve had. I’m not too tipsy but I am more tired than I realized. I usually don’t stay out this long, but tonight, I didn’t want to leave.
It’s quiet out tonight, the city lulled to sleep by a long day of constant rushing.
The breeze feels nice tonight too. The keys jingle as I toss them in the bowl on the front entry table next to my purse.
Illuminating my tiny studio with a flick of the switch, I take it all in with new eyes, as Charlie would see it for the first time. Once upon a time, I found the fact that my bed overlooks the fire escape romantic. I used to like the way that my kitchen is just a small bar, with a mini fridge and stove.
I used to be charmed by the tiny bathroom, painted in a soft shade of purple with retro white tile. Back when I found this place, I was glad that I had something in the big city that I could call my own.
The mattress groans as I sit down on the frilly white bed and take my shoes off. I kick them over to the wall where I have my ‘closet,’ i.e. a hanging rack jammed full and ready to tip over. I rub the sleep from my eyes and then take a good look around at the space I spent so much time making mine.
I know I have to move soon. I’ve lived here for almost four years, and it was great in college and the couple of years after. But now I have a real job and I’m doing well, so…
I need to seriously think about moving.
The weight of the day hits me as I undress and then crawl into bed, wondering where I should move to. Climbing under the comforter the answer is obvious to me and the neighborhood around Mac's flashes in my mind. There are plenty of cute houses for rent in Vinings.
A blush flames my cheeks when I realize that I’m actually fantasizing about living near Charlie, but it’s not like I didn’t think about living there before I ever set eyes on the man. I settle on my side, staring out the window to the fire escape.
I imagine living close enough to Charlie that he just stops by late at night, his broad shoulders and quiet grin filling my doorway. I groan aloud, turning onto my back.
Charlie, Charlie, Charlie… I have a one-track mind today.
His sister’s wedding is not a date! I need to remember that, to get it through my thick skull.
He just asked me to pacify his family and not get set up on a blind date. As I stare at the ceiling, I honestly can’t believe that he asked me, or that I said yes. But after he sent the picture of us together to his mom, it was kinda hard to say no. I definitely blame it on the alcohol, and on the smile that Charlie pinned me with.
The combination of those two things is enough to get any girl to drop her guard.
I’ve been a regular at Mac’s for long enough that if he was into me, he would have already asked me out before now. And it wouldn’t be some stupid deal to keep his family off his back.
The worries and anxiety attached to IVF and knowing I should freeze my eggs come back and hit me like a ton of bricks… or maybe like walking straight into a cold shower. I haven’t even considered that I'll need a bigger place to live if I do get pregnant. A new house with separate rooms, that could accommodate a nursery, unlike my studio.
I’m so ready to be a parent in my heart of hearts, but so not ready on a practical level. There’s so much that will have to change before I can have a child.
A strangled noise of frustration climbs up my throat, and I jump up to get my cell phone from my purse. How did I forget to charge it? Getting back in bed, I open the Tinder dating app, the long cord from the charger reaching to the middle of the bed just fine.
I purse my lips as I swipe through several guys. I swipe left for pass, right for potential. I swipe left several times, stopping on a hot guy. Dark hair, tan, tallish from his pictures…
But I see that he’s just visiting Atlanta from Texas this weekend. I swipe left regretfully, turning him down. There are half a dozen of the same kind of men, a hot guy just looking for a girl to show him the city for the weekend.
Not for me, unfortunately. I swipe for a couple more minutes, then Tinder lets me know I’m out of matches. I surrender and pretend I didn’t just do that to convince myself I’m not hung up on Charlie and any potential there. Heck, I don’t even have his phone number.
Maybe it’s crazy to think that I can get a baby and the man of my dreams from one person. Maybe I get the hottie later — after I have a baby on my own.
I picture myself with a grinning baby in my arms, both of us beyond happy. I don’t really need a guy to give me that, do I? Maybe freezing my eggs waiting for the man isn’t the way to go.
Of course, getting a donor from a sperm bank is pricey and clinical. I’ve never even considered it an option, but the more I think about it…
My eyes wander back to my phone. I could get a donor myself, the old-fashioned way. Hook up with some super hot, super smart guy without protection. A guy like Charlie.
Biting my lip, I know that’s sooooo wrong.
I’d have to tell him.
I definitely wouldn’t be his pretend date then because… yeah, no way. No way would that work.