The Do-Over(22)

As I waited for the valet to bring my car around, I prayed Matthew didn’t come out before I left. Tee time. He was so full of shit. Descending the inn’s long driveway, it occurred to me just how much sex had sobered me up. Once on Rt. 25A, I looked for a drive-thru, finding the perfect one to counteract the remainder of the alcohol and provide the sugar and carb comfort necessary after this morning’s humiliation. Dunkin’ Donuts was my personal savior.

Settled back behind the wheel with a large dark roast coffee in hand, a bagel sandwich with cheese and bacon and a Boston Crème donut, this late morning trifecta served up the perfect comfort food breakfast to help my battered and confused ego on the twenty-minute ride home.

Tossing my keys on the kitchen counter, I dug my phone out of my bag and tapped the PerfectDate app icon. There he was, with a little green dot next to his name. Matthew was logged on. And there were no messages for me. Unlike every other time I’d seen him on the site over the past two weeks, he did not greet me the moment I logged on.

Golfing? Bullshit!

The * was not golfing; he was trolling for his next encounter. Douche!

Staring at my phone it wasn’t clear what was the correct thing to do. Send him a message saying, “WTF?” or “What the heck was that today?” Was he really going to ignore me and not acknowledge that I’d logged on?

In my bedroom, I tossed my phone on the bed and decided I needed a shower. Leaving a trail of clothes on my bedroom floor, I needed to cleanse every inch of myself, let every second of this morning be rinsed down the drain. The excitement of our flirtation of the last two weeks was gone, and I was pretty sure that empty feeling I was left with, was what was going to be the thing that haunted me most. He was a man I’d talked to for two weeks and met once, how could it feel like an actual breakup? I asked myself. It had been a long time since I’d had this overwhelming icky feeling after something ended. But those had been relationships that had lasted longer than two weeks. This just didn’t seem possible that I was feeling it and I wondered, was it the intensity based on how the new mediums were so geared toward talking or was I just such a novice at this again? Had hiding behind the Carissa persona actually given me the comfort and the confidence to really share who I was with this person prior to meeting him, and that in actuality, my anonymity had made me more vulnerable?

My mind was spinning and my inner thighs felt strained and tender, not unlike my heart.

With pruning fingers, I finally emerged from the shower feeling as if I’d rid myself of his touch. Swiping the condensation from the mirror, I let out a huge groan. There on the lower left of my neck was a purple bruise from where he’d bit me. Oh great, now I’d have to look at this little parting gift until it healed. Brushing my hair to the left, I decided not to blow it dry knowing a wild mess would probably cover it better.

Sitting on the bed and picking up the phone, I felt that obsessive pull to check the app. Yes, Matthew was still there. No, there was no message for me. And nope, not a word when I logged back on. After staring at the screen for a minute, still trying to decide what to do, if anything, I hit close and opened up another dating app where I deleted my profile information. Over the next five minutes I had done that with all of the dating apps and then deleted the app itself off my phone. The only one left was PerfectDate and I logged on one more time. Matthew was still there and hadn’t attempted to contact me.

“You know what, *,” I said to the phone. “I am not giving you any control. You’re a dick and I deserve better. You have skated through life on your looks. You’re a f*cking hologram.” And with that, I deleted my profile from PerfectDate and then deleted the app from my phone.

In fifteen years, I’d slept with two men, Frank and now Matthew. Matthew’s purpose was to get me out there in the world again. And that, he did. It was very clear from today that beyond that, Matthew had nothing real to offer me.

If I’m meant to find someone, our paths will cross, I decided. And I smiled, hearing Jill’s voice in my head saying, “Next!”

Now I just needed a new frigging dentist.





Chapter 9


Monday morning’s staff meeting had me sporting a pale pink silk chiffon scarf tied around my neck. Not a typical look for me.

“Hiding a hickey or something,” Chris teased me.

“I should get so lucky,” I laughed. I was feeling out of sorts and was thrilled it was Monday and I was back at work.

“So, I had a very interesting meeting in the clubhouse on Friday afternoon after the Breast Cancer Resource Council golf event and I think we’re going to have the opportunity to bid on a really interesting series of Public Service Announcement videos.”

“New client or for the BCRC?” asked Jonathan Mills, our Director of Copy and Creative Services. Jonathan was our storyline guy for the videos. I would take his script and come up with the look and then we’d hand it off to production to cast, direct and create the video.

“Yeah, a totally new client. They’ve been around for a few years and the brand has really taken off. They manufacture workout clothing for women who have had breast cancer,” Chris explained.

“C-Kicker?” The question was out of my mouth without thinking.

Chris looked surprised. “Yes, C-Kicker. You’re familiar with them?”

“Yes, my friend, Jill, who I work out with is a huge fan. She wears them all the time. The outfits and styles are really cute and their materials are very bright and vibrant. She’s always raving about the comfort.”