Letting out a huge sigh, I realize that I'm spending another night sitting at home by myself at...yep 10 p.m., and drowning my sorrows about the sorry state of my love life. Granted, Roger was just my first online date, but if he's anything to go by, I should be running for the hills. Or the nearest convent. If I wasn't so determined to give it a real shot, I'd be closing up shop now, resigning myself to a single life with lots of cats, and being aunty to Mac and Daniel's kids.
But that's definitely not what I want, and I'm determined, so I grab the laptop off the coffee table in front of me and boot it up, bringing up the Chicago Singles website and logging in. I see a reminder that my date with Roger has come and gone. How insightful, little website. Can you also tell when the date is full of shit and boring as hell? Because that could have saved me a hell of a lot of effort!
I check to see whether Boring Roger has rated our date yet, and almost spit out my mouthful of wine when I see he rated it four out of five hearts. What the f**k! He must be more deluded than I thought. That date was as dull as dishwater. The only thing exciting about it was my brief encounter with Zander across the bar. And as embarrassing as that was, he still managed to get a way hotter response from my body than Roger could ever achieve.
Dammit. Why did Zander have to be such a gentleman? For one night, he had the chance to just be a normal guy and think with his dick. Why couldn't he have just taken me up on my offer and given me one night of mind-blowing, life-changing sex? It would have been amazing...the way he moves his body, the way he carries himself...god, just the way he looks at you. It all screams he's a guy who knows what he's doing between the sheets. He didn't want me to regret him in the morning, but one look at that man, and that is a whole world of regret worth having. Over and over again. Multiple orgasms worth of pain right there.
I focus back on the rate your date screen in front of me and decide that if I'm going to give this internet dating thing a real shot, it's best to start it honestly. I'm not going to lie about my date with Boring Roger. He may have rated me four out of five hearts, but I think he may be delusional.
Downing the rest of my glass of wine for confidence, I click the mouse and rate my date zero out of five hearts. My reasoning? I'm not doing my fellow female daters any favors by lying about Roger's dating prowess. If that makes me a bitch, so be it. At least I'm an honest bitch.
I wake up to the smell of bacon wafting through my apartment. In my sleepy haze, I have a mini freak out. Did last night go differently? Oh god, please tell me I didn't drag Boring Roger home with me. “Mac?” I call out.
“Yeah, it's only me. I've made breakfast,” she answers as I breathe a huge sigh of relief. My head feels slightly unhappy with me. With a drink at the bar, and half a bottle of wine on an empty stomach when I got home, it's no wonder really.
I roll out of bed and sleepily stumble into my bathroom to do my morning business before grabbing my robe and Playboy bunny slippers and heading out into the kitchen.
“Morning, Sleeping Beauty,” my best friend greets me as I slump down onto a bar stool next to the kitchen counter. I murmur appreciation as she slides a steaming hot cup of coffee under my nose.
“Thanks. What are you doing here?” I ask, lifting my head long enough to look up at her.
She leans back against the counter and rubs her growing belly. “Our little superhero here decided it was time to wake Mommy up, and since I might have worn Daddy out last night, I thought I'd come home and make you breakfast. Sounded like you might've needed me after your dud date, and I wasn't here. I'm so sorry.”
“Mac, you have a life other than me. Daniel and the mini-you are your life now. I love you to death for thinking of me, though.”
“I may be with Daniel, but you're my best friend. I'm still here for you. I hope you know that.”
“Yes, I do. Now where's my bacon? I'm not above stealing bacon from a pregnant woman, you know!”
“You just try, buddy. Never come between me and my food when I'm eating for two, and never my bacon.”
“You sure it's not three?” I say, giggling and ducking as a kitchen utensil goes whizzing past my head.
“Take it back,” she says, one hand on her hip, the other holding a spatula pointed at me.
“Never.” I swear to god, the grin on my face cannot get any bigger. I love this, the two of us laughing and joking around. It's just not the same anymore. Not that I wish Mac hadn't met Daniel because that man is perfect for her; no man was better suited for Mac than her Superman. But I know that she's going to be moving out soon. It's inevitable. They're having a baby. They'll be starting their new family, and I know that Daniel wants them together. It's not like Daniel's apartment is that far; she'll only be a two-block walk away.
Then it hits me. Mac must have come over this morning because she felt guilty.
“Mac, I love you to death, but you can't keep running to me when you think I might need you. I have a phone. You could've just called me,” I try explaining to her.
“I know, but I wasn't here for you last night when you got home. So was the date really that bad?”
“Beyond bad. Think awkward junior prom date bad, minus the pimples and nerdy glasses, and more old man smell with a side of Mr. Buttons, his expectant cat.”
“Oh God!” she giggles, placing a plate of bacon, eggs and hash browns in front of me.
“Yeah. I saw Zander there too, at the bar. He was talking to that cute barman.”
“Yeah, that's Zach, his roommate.”
“Oh… OH!” I say, shocked at the realization that Zander will definitely know I asked about him now.
“What? Did Zander say something?” she asks, her interest piqued.
“No, no. I only saw him briefly, so I didn't get to speak to him or anything.”
She pauses, a slight smirk showing on her face as if she knows something I don't.
“What? I know that look, Mac. What are you not telling me?”
“Nothing. Just seems like there's something between you two, that's all.”
“I've told you, no! Never gonna happen. He's had his lightsaber up your who-see-what's-it.”
“All good then.” She grins. “Eat up. I didn't make you breakfast for it to go cold, and I have Daniel's credit card burning a hole in my pocket and baby clothes to be buying.”
“Yes, Mom!” I say through a mouthful of food.
“And don't talk with your mouthful,” she adds with a smirk.
She's acting more and more like a mom every day.
And I couldn't be happier.