As I poured some pasta into a pot, an uncommon feeling struck me. I almost felt … jealous of them. Every so often, a jolt of loneliness would hit me, and I’d contemplate re-entering the dating scene. Then I’d remember how much I enjoyed my sanity and think better of it.
Ever since Dev and I broke up, I went out to clubs or used Tinder to find a hook-up when the need arose. But what if I was missing out? What if there was some perfect man out there just waiting for me to find him while I was too busy having meaningless sex or sitting in my bedroom live streaming in my PJs?
When my food was ready, I sat down on the couch, scrolling through my phone as I ate. I was almost done eating when a message popped up from Neil, and I smiled. He’d sent a picture of himself standing in a park across the water from Manhattan, the iconic skyline in the background. Neil’s black-rimmed glasses sat perched on his nose, his white shirt buttoned all the way up, his hair neatly combed. He had an awkward grin on his face as he pointed a thumb over his shoulder to the skyscrapers behind him.
I swear he was too adorable for words. Also, his outfit was giving me serious Book of Mormon cast member vibes, and honestly? I wasn’t hating it. Seeing all those perfectly done-up buttons weirdly made my fingers itch to rip them open.
Last week, when Neil had accompanied me to the gaming sphere and we’d bumped into Dev, I’d been shocked (and a little bit thrilled) when he put his arm around my waist and pretended to be my new boyfriend. It was a kindness I hadn’t expected from him, and his closeness when he put his arm around me was a reminder of how much I’d been missing physical contact.
I pushed the thought aside and brought my attention back to my phone. Yesterday, when I’d requested a picture of the shoot and Neil sent me a selfie instead, I just about died from how cute he was. He could be uptight, but there was a refreshing lack of pretension about him that was incredibly endearing.
What do you think? He asked in a text under the picture.
Afric: Good effort. I give you a B+. Your smile isn’t as confident as I’d like it to be, though. I want to see those pearly whites!
Neil: Guess I’ll have to try harder tomorrow.
Afric: I guess you will ;-)
Neil: We’re about to go eat pizza at some place close to the hotel. What are you up to?
Afric: I just finished streaming for the day and ate a lacklustre bowl of pasta for dinner. I’d kill for some New York pizza. Very jealous of you right now.
Neil: Shall I send you a picture? Or would that be rubbing it in too much?
Afric: Send one. I can lick the phone screen and pretend it works like the flavoured wallpaper in Willy Wonka.
Neil: Please do not lick your phone screen. Studies have shown they have more germs than a toilet bowl.
Afric: Pfft. Germs are good for you. My parents let me go around licking everything when I was a kid, and I rarely ever got sick.
Neil: Please stop texting me about licking things.
Afric: Okay, fine. Wouldn’t want you getting all hot under that perfectly buttoned-up collar.
Neil: I assure you the opposite is true.
Afric: The gentleman doth protest too much.
Neil: I’m going now. Have a good night.
Afric: You, too! And don’t forget I want another selfie tomorrow.
Neil: We’ll see.
I put my phone down, a weird sensation in my chest. I had one of those odd feelings, like I could text with Neil for hours, just chatting about random, ordinary stuff.
With him still at the forefront of my mind, I went into my bedroom and opened my laptop. I hadn’t had a chance to do a deep dive on Annabelle yet, and there was no time like the present.
I typed her full name “Annabelle Carlino” into the search bar, and she came up right away. Hmm, she was very pretty. I could see why Neil was smitten. Annabelle had long, straight red hair and looked to be medium height. Her feed was of the fitness/inspirational persuasion, with lots of goal-setting quotes and photos of her working out in the gym. The woman had a fantastic body, like Ripley from Aliens. She and Leanne were similar in that regard. It seemed Neil had a type, and that type was sporty, super buff ladies.
Aside from my fondness for leisurewear, I wasn’t buff or sporty at all. I’d always been too lazy to fully embrace regular exercise. Oh, well. At least my joints wouldn’t get worn down by the time I was thirty. You had to look on the bright side.