Find Your Valentine

Neither of us had been on a date in more than a year, but unlike my best friend I was okay with that and harbored no desire to end the drought. The fact that I was standing in that restaurant with her to attend a speed dating event was a gesture of solidarity, nothing more. There were a half dozen things I would rather be doing with my Saturday night and none of them included a room full of anxious strangers, much less wearing a pair super tight pants, or any pants at all. “If you want a one night stand we could just go to the bar across the street and you can throw your cat at the first guy who seems willing to catch it. That would be a lot less work. You wouldn’t even need to speak to one another.”

She gave me a look over her shoulder that said my crude rendering of finding a man in the midst of Anchorage’s bar scene on 4th Avenue was not appreciated. “Unlike yours, mine is not a community cat that likes to go visiting with whomever will open the door, and I do get tired of making my kitty purr all by my lonesome every Saturday night.”

I so enjoyed her willingness to run with my metaphor even if she didn’t find it amusing. “At least you recognize that you’ve interrupted my routine.” I grinned and bounced my eyebrows, and she in turn smacked me on the arm with her clutch. “Okay, so you’re tired of being alone,” I continued, “and you want to find something meaningful and lasting. Speed dating is the best plan you could come up with?”

“I’d ask if you could think of a better one,” she said, running her fingers nervously through her hair, “but it would seem you’ve already offered up your very best idea.”

“It’s my only idea, really, because the path of a steady relationship and the road to deep personal happiness never intersect.” Atop my soapbox I had climbed. “Besides,” my voice swelled with largess, “speed dating seems so manufactured. Whatever you find here will be as fake as your sister’s new boobs.”

I could see her growing more annoyed with each word I spoke. “Look, I asked you to come with me because you’re my best friend and I need your support. Can you pretend to enjoy yourself, for me? Not all of us can be committed to a lifetime of stubborn bitterness and self-imposed loneliness like you.”

She knew just what to say to make me feel contrite in an instant. Standing just over her shoulder, I looped my arms around her and gave her a hug which we both understood was the closest thing to an apology and a gesture of acquiescence as I could manage.

The event organizer beckoned us forward, a group of edgy ladies bursting with misguided optimism that the man of our dreams might be waiting for us at a table in the restaurant right now. Part of me was struggling not to make any more insensitive jokes, for my best friend’s benefit, and the other part of me was feeling rather like a march to the gallows had just begun. My eyes wandered around the room out of curiosity because what sort of eligible bachelor agrees to attend one of these events? As I surveyed the males assembled for us ladies to sample, like a platter of delectable aperitifs, a familiar profile caught my eye. He was just as beautiful as the day he left, talking casually with a few of the other men, a participant’s number pinned to the lapel of his jacket. Now I really did feel as though I was about to take the hangman’s noose.

“Welcome to Find Your Valentine, our January speed dating event!” Our host was excessively cheerful. “Cupid strikes on his annual holiday in just a few weeks. Tonight, let’s see if we can’t find you someone special to enjoy it with.”

Although she had been listening intently, eating up each of our host’s words, her eyes must have been wandering the room, too. “Wait,” she whispered, turning to grab my arm, “is that who I think it is?”

“Uh-huh,” I responded, sounding worse than I wished I did.

“Ladies, you are the stars of this show,” our host continued her monologue while any chance I might have enjoyed myself at the event slipped away. “Tonight is all about you and what strikes your fancy. Go forth and present the best version of yourselves, keep an open mind and a hopeful heart, and let us know if you need anything.”

A bell dinged somewhere in the room signaling the start of our first date. The other ladies in our group surged forward looking too much like a stampede of pachyderms, but we lingered near the door.

“I didn’t know he would be here,” she said, and I had no doubt she was telling the truth because she would never do that to me. “We can leave if you want.”

While I was touched by her willingness to abort mission, I did not accept her offer for two reasons. First, she had been looking forward to this all week and I was not going to ruin it for her. Second, he had just seen me, his eyes widening a fraction with recognition, and I was not going to give him the satisfaction of watching me leave just because he was there.

“No, it’s fine,” I told her, my voice still betraying how I really felt, “let’s go find someone to take care of your cat.”

She laughed and the mood lightened at once. Her feelings had a shockingly fast rebound rate whereas mine took much longer to coalesce into whatever sentiment would be dogging me in the foreseeable future. As we followed the other women forward, both of us moving toward the tables farthest from him as we could get, I found myself wondering if his girlfriend knew he was here. Probably not, I thought to myself, remembering all too well what it felt like to be in her shoes. I knew better than anyone that he ended old relationships by starting new ones.

***

An hour had passed and I had dated five men including a doctor, a lawyer, a financial planner, and two entrepreneurs. Part of me wished I was able to engage with them because these successful bachelors might be worth my time, but I was a thousand miles away and they knew it. Each ding of the bell brought me closer to the one person I hoped never to see again and I couldn’t enjoy myself knowing I would have to sit across from him. At last the time had come for us to meet face to face and although I told myself I would be mature about it, I could feel my conviction slipping by the second.

“Fancy seeing you here,” he said as I took my seat, his voice like velvet, one fair brow tilted rakishly over arresting blue eyes.

“Shut up,” I said, quiet so that only he could hear. “Let’s focus on surviving the next fifteen minutes.”

He smiled in response to my obvious discomfort, like a bully on the playground right before they kick you in the face and take your lunch money. “I cannot speak for you, old friend, but I for one am looking forward to this opportunity to catch up. I must say, you look amazing.”

Other women might be flattered by his attention and mistake it for a man with a curator’s eye inspecting an amazing but overlooked piece of priceless art. I knew better, however, and his roving gaze caressing my form felt like molestation.

I narrowed my eyes, pursed my lips, and tried to tell myself not to hiss like a wounded feline. “Does your girlfriend know you’re here?”

His veneer of cool superiority fell at once and his tone was deadpan when he responded. “Keep your voice down.”

I ignored him. “It will be a nasty shock for her when the relationship ends under the same circumstances it began, but with her standing on the other side of the fence. You have established your pattern, without doubt, and I hope she is comfortable in my shoes.”

Our conversation caught the attention of the beautiful blonde sitting next to me. “You have a girlfriend?” She asked him, her voice incredulous. “But you said you’re not seeing anyone. You invited me for a drink when the event is over!”

“You invited me out for a drink, too!” Another woman’s voice floated over the heads of the other speed daters and despite a rising feeling of disgust, I could not help but laugh.

“Sorry ladies,” I said, looking around the room, “steer clear,” I indicated the man sitting across from me, the man who was once the center of my world, “this one is a liar.”

Fifteen minutes passed faster than hoped and the bell dinged signaling it was time for us to move on to the last date of the night. Absorbed as I had been in dreading the meeting with my ex, I had not even looked to see who the man was sitting to his left.

“Shit,” I said when I took my seat in front of him.

“Nice to see you, too.” His voice was thick with disenchantment as it always was.

My ex’s twin brother was the dark angel to his light and I had always suspected that he didn’t like me, that he never wanted his brother and I to be together, and that he might have had a hand in the demise of our relationship. While the opportunity to catch up with the brother I liked even less might have been the highlight of my night, my ex’s ego would not be ignored.

“Don’t mind her,” he said, loud enough for everyone to hear, “she’s just bitter because she could not handle a little healthy competition in her relationship.”

I shouldn’t take his bait, but I couldn’t help myself. “You asked me to marry you! A woman with a ring on her finger should not have to compete anymore.”

Our host was standing in the center of the room at that point, wringing her hands with a worried expression on her face. Conversation between potential couples had ceased and everyone was staring.

He cocked his head to the side like the stupid, preening peacock that he was. “You’re as hopeless as you ever were. Not strong enough to fight for what you wanted and too naïve to recognize when it was over. Sometimes I am sad that it ended though. You are still the hottest, wildest piece of ass that has ever been in my bed.

Instinct took over and I experienced the next thirty seconds as though I was watching someone else. I sprung to my feet, grabbed my cocktail off the table, and threw it straight in his face.

“Fuck you,” I said to him, loudly, my whole body shaking with rage.

It was the stunned silence of the room that brought me back to myself. My eyes went at once to my best friend who was sitting two tables away, a worried expression on her face. Everyone else was looking at me with a mixed bag of expressions ranging from wariness to pride to pity. It was the sympathetic looks I could not stand. Despite the way the bottom dropped out of my life, I was not a victim, and I would not have anyone put me in that box. I gathered my belongings, ripped my nametag off my shirt and tossed that at my ex as well, and rushed out of the restaurant. I was in such a hurry to leave that I did not notice his brother’s eyes on me, full of an indescribable mix of emotions, and that they followed me all the way out as I hurried to leave the room.