TJ wiggles his fingers, beckoning for my phone. “Show it to me. I’m guessing you want the king of scorching-hot sex scenes to write your profile, right?”
“Yes. But I don’t just want to get laid though. I’d like to have a boyfriend. A boyfriend who also likes to get laid. A lot. But who likes to do other things too, like go snowboarding. Do some volunteer work, taking care of Mother Nature. Go on dog walks. Have more sex. Try new recipes from The New York Times recommended recipes section. Then maybe some blow jobs. Watch a killer documentary on how society is changing for the better for queer people. Mix in a hand job. Go to the gym. Have sex.”
TJ taps his temple. “You want somebody who’ll kind of be everything and who likes to bang. Got it.”
I hand him my phone, already open to the dating app. “So, what’s the issue?”
TJ peers at the profile, then squints, tilts his head. “Seriously?”
“Seriously what?”
“It’s like a fucking thesis in here.”
But isn’t that the point? I gesture to the phone in his hand. “I just thought someone would want to get to know me. Know what he’s getting into.”
TJ clears his throat.
Uh-oh.
“Allow me,” he says.
I groan. “This is going to be bad.”
“You can’t fix a problem unless you can diagnose it, Doctor Dog.” He sits up straighter and reads from my screen. “I’m a vet, specializing in companion animals like cats and dogs. I like to listen to murder podcasts, nature podcasts, sports podcasts, adventure stories involving daring rescues anywhere on Earth often executed by Navy SEALs, gay memoirs, and badass documentaries. In my free time I like to play soccer, make twenty-five-minute meals, because who has time for more, and have lots of sex. I believe in taking care of the Earth, planting trees, making homes for animals, and sex. I believe in a lot of sex.” TJ stares at me. “Do you not see the problem?”
I wince, as I exhale. “I think I do. I sound like a dirty pervert. It’s too sex-centric, right? I need to cut the sex mentions.”
Cracking up, TJ drops his head in his hand, then looks up. “No. That’s not the issue.”
“Then what’s the issue?”
“I would never click on your profile,” he says matter-of-factly.
I roll my eyes. “Well, you’re like six three and I’m five ten.”
He blinks. “That’s not the issue.”
“Then what is it? Don’t guys want to know what they’re getting into?”
TJ shakes his head. “No. No. And more no. Tobey, you need a little mystery. This is like your LinkedIn bio, plus your interest in getting your dick wet. Tell me something that’s not on here.”
Hmmm. That’s easy since I have lots of interests. Ah, got one. “I play pickleball.”
TJ points at me, smiling. “Nice. That’s a start. Pickleball’s interesting. It’s quirky. We could potentially make a pun off it.” The writer stares at the fire, then snaps his gaze back to me. “Do you like pickles? How about a round of pickleball?” He shakes his head, answering himself. “No. It would work better if it were an eggplant you liked to play. Maybe a cucumber.”
“I could learn how to play cucumber ball,” I offer, since I’m easygoing like that.
“Let’s table the pickleball pun.” TJ cracks his knuckles. “Tell me something else.”
“I can fix a flat tire on any vehicle. Also, I can make balloon animals.”
TJ rubs his palms together. “We’re getting closer. One more thing.”
I lean back in the couch, digging deep. I shrug and serve up the last data point I’ve got. “Okay, fine. I like oatmeal raisin cookies.”
TJ’s eyes pop. “Are you serious? You like oatmeal raisin cookies?”
“A good oatmeal raisin cookie is like heaven in your mouth.”
“No, it’s not. It’s like sand and disappointment,” he counters.
I shoot him a you’ve got to be kidding me look. “I don’t even know how you could say that. They are the most underrated, underappreciated baked good of all time.”
“No, they’re a vehicle for shriveled-up grapes. They shouldn’t even exist.”
I slap a hand on the arm of the chair. “You’re just wrong.”
TJ sits back, relaxing, looking pleased with himself. “No. I’m right. That’s your motherfucking dating profile, Tobey.”
My brow knits. “What are you talking about?”
TJ spreads a hand across the air like he’s lighting up a marquee. “I like oatmeal raisin cookies.”
Is he even making sense? “How is that a dating profile?”
TJ counts off on his fingers. “One. It sparks debate. Two. Everyone has an opinion on it. Three. It leaves a little mystery. Good-looking, intelligent, well-rounded guy like you, intriguing profile like that? I’m telling you, it’s motherfucking gold.”
But is it? “Are you sure?”
“I am. And you need a new handle. Doctor Dog isn’t going to cut it.” TJ makes a face.
“I like dogs. People like dogs!” I protest.
“But you know what they like more?” He raises his eyebrows. “Sex. Something you told me already you’re very good at and you want the man in your life to enjoy it too.”