8. Nat

In the last year, I've been on a total of two dates.

The first was a pity date, set up by Jane to remind me my vagina isn't dead. It wasn't a success. The guy was pleasant enough but I wasn't in the right mental space to begin dating.

The second was from a dating app, so I only have myself to blame for that one. He was pleasant, but as the evening went on, it became clear he assumed we'd be sleeping together. Needless to say, we were not on the same page. I ended it when he tried to kiss me and then got annoyed when I shoved him away. I never heard from him again.

Tonight is another app date.

Chris and I have been chatting for a couple of weeks. He's studying for his Master's in Psychology and is a year younger than me. So far, he's been respectful and not sent me dick pics. I'm taking that as a win.

I've suggested we have our first date in a restaurant because I hate cooking and it kills two birds with one stone. If the date turns out to be a dud, then at least I get to go home on a full stomach.

He's not yet here when I show up, which irritates me, but at least he's bothered to message to say he's running a few minutes late. I guess I can't complain.

Except… I'm not feeling it this evening. My head is full of work and I'd rather be reading through the emails on the USB drive than wasting two hours with a guy my heart tells me isn't the one.

I'm not sure I'm over what happened with Rick. The scars from that relationship still run deep, and even though I would quite like sex at some point, the thought of falling into another abusive relationship scares the shit out of me.

While I wait for Chris to arrive, I take a seat at the bar and order a glass of white wine. I drag my notebook out and scan what I have so far.

The emails on the USB drive paint a picture, and it's not pretty. The mayor is in cahoots with some seriously shady people. I don't recognize all the names but a few jump out.

The Chief of Police, for one, and also a high-up politician with a seat in the European Parliament.

Whatever the mayor is involved with, it is far bigger than him.

Chris is cute, flirty, clearly intelligent, but I feel nothing. We chatted through a delicious main course of grilled lamb and finished a bottle of excellent red wine in the process. From the lingering looks he's been throwing my way for the last hour, I know he's interested.

"So, what kind of stuff do you write about?" he asks once we've exhausted the usual topics, like vacations, movies, hobbies, and previous bad dates.

I reach for my glass, wondering what to say. I don't like talking about my job, as journalists tend to get a bad rap.

"Lifestyle content mostly." I don't have my own byline yet, so he's unlikely to connect me with any of the stories I've written in the last two years. Although, if this latest story does well, my editor has promised me I'll finally get my own column. "Nothing hard-hitting."

"Sounds fun."

"It can be."

"Tell me more about your master's."

He starts to talk about his course and I listen while he drinks the rest of the wine and I pick at my dessert. By the time the waitress removes our dishes, I'm ready for home. The evening hasn't been a complete bust, but I don't feel any great attraction toward him.

Honestly, I'm starting to wonder if I'm broken.

The moment the check arrives, I drop enough cash on the table to cover my share of the meal and drinks. Chris looks a bit surprised but doesn't protest.

"It's only fair," I tell him with a smile. "You're a poor student, after all!"

"True," he laughs. "Besides, I'm a modern guy and I don't have a problem with women paying their way." We stand and I mentally prepare my little speech about how it's late and I have work tomorrow … but he beats me to it.

"Look, it's been great…" He pauses with a rueful grin, "but I'm not sensing much interest from you, so rather than drag it out, I think I'll say goodbye." He leans over, drops a kiss on my cheek, and walks away.

And now I feel like shit.

He was a nice guy, just not for me.

I sigh and pull out my phone. It's still relatively early and I'm not in the mood to head back to my apartment, even though I have a shit ton to do. The wine has loosened the tension in my body and I feel like another drink. Something less sweet. A gin maybe.

I rattle off a message to the girls in our group chat and head over to the bar area. Jane replies almost immediately saying she's at home, suffering from a cold. When Amanda gets back to me 5 minutes later, she tells me she is on a date with Finn the lifeguard. A last-minute thing. Jane fills the chat with eggplant emojis and I laugh quietly.

Looks like I'm heading home then. There's no way I'm drinking here alone or anywhere else. Just as I pull up the Uber app, ready to call an end to the evening, a tall man in a dark suit steps inside the restaurant, and my stomach flips.