Match This! (The UnSocial Dater#1) (12 page)

The email address is the first thing they ask for.

I decide it would be best if I used one not associated with, well me. I hit up good ol’ Google and laugh inside as I type in
fuckdating
, it’s denied. I think of Mom, how truly destitute she looked when she asked for my help.

I type in
[email protected]
and it works.

I click back in the browser and start the free sign up process.

Next thing I know I am answering a bunch of questions and there is no option for ‘none of your damn business.’

RELATIONSHIP STATUS:

Unmarried

HAVE KIDS?

No

WANT KIDS?

Fuck No

ETHNICITY:

Un-common white girl

BODY TYPE:

Sexy isn’t an option, it should be. They want slim, athletic, average, a few extra pounds.

BODY TYPE:

Average

HEIGHT:

5’6”

FAITH:

I laugh at this wondering if Mom still considers herself Irish Catholic or if she’s now Jewish again because she’s not doing Sam.

FAITH:

I leave it blank because how do you claim to be something when you’re not really and I seriously don’t want one of these jackass fundamentalists ever contacting me. I would rip them apart, and they’d probably find me. Fuck that.

SMOKE:

No

DRINK:

Occasionally

They ask my age, where I’m from, and what age group of men I am seeking.

I’m twenty-five, from, I pause and decide to put Wildwood, I don’t need the asshats knowing where I’m from. Seeking men 25-35.

Then comes the rest. I fill in the requested information with a shit ass grin on my face.

ABOUT ME:

Harvard educated, tattoo and body modification artist. My favorite word is ‘fuck’ and the middle finger is a flag I fly without second thought or regard for what you or anyone else thinks.

If you don’t like it, don’t bother contacting me. We are not a match.

I was raised Irish Catholic and attended elementary school wearing the plaid skirt and flimsy cardigan. The nuns didn’t like me and I wore welts caused by their rulers daily.

I liked it.

CHARACTER:

I work full time and own reliable transportation. I have my own place. If you don’t work, don’t have wheels, and live on your mother’s couch, I am not interested. Get a job and grow the fuck up.

I am loyal to me first.

You should be as well.

WHAT NEVER FAILS TO MAKE ME SMILE:

A short line at the Dunkin’ Donuts drive thru window, followed by my first cup of coffee in the morning. A drink after a hard day’s work followed by an orgasm. Unicorns and glitter.

I AM:

Not looking for a man to complete me. I’m looking for drama free fun during my down time.

I giggle inside and tap my foot, which is the only outward emotional response or sign that I give to show I am happy, at work anyway.

I look through my phone and try to find a picture of me that shows the badass I am, but not enough that it would be blatantly obvious who I am. I find a picture Macey or Stephanie must have snapped. I’m wearing a plain white tee, shades, and I am flipping them off. Perfect, nothing says back off like the middle finger.

I set it to profile.

I look up when the door chime sounds alerting us someone is here.

“Hey Kat,” Granger says with a nod.

I hit upload and toss my phone in my bag under the desk.

“Prince Albert?” I ask as I stand.

“Funny,” Granger laughs. “I know my dick is big Kat, but it’s not fucking stupid, once was enough.”

“Just messing with you. Finishing the sleeve today,” I nod.

“Sure are,” he nods back.

Two hours later and we walk out of the room.

“Fucking sick Kat,” Granger says as he looks at the stained glass church window on his arm. “Sick.”

He starts to walk out as Ricco walks in. “Finish today?”

Granger nods and drops his head. “Bittersweet man. Bittersweet.”

I hated charging him, I tried telling him it was throwback Thursday, prices always go down on Thursday. He reminded me it was Friday and that he wasn’t stupid, which made me smile and nod.

I watch Ricco look over his arm. “Sarah would have loved it man.” He gives Granger one of those half man hugs and Granger’s eyes squint shut for a moment.

“Thanks man, gotta ride,” he nods as he steps back.

“Be safe bro,” Ricco says in a tone that reflects Granger’s.

Granger gives him a half nod and opens the door.

“Granger,” I practically yell at him.

He looks back at me. “I have an amazing idea for another that Sarah would love. Come back in two weeks, I’ll show you.”

He sighs and it takes him a minute to nod, but he does.

When he leaves Ricco walks over and nods. “Did a good thing Kat.”

“Just making sure the money keeps coming in,” I shrug.

“Bullshit. You want to make sure he sticks around,” he says scowling. “Fucked up situations like that make you realize life isn’t so damn bad. Consider yourself blessed Kat. You got shitload of talent coming out that little ass of yours, and breath going in your lungs. If you let your brain and heart do what they want instead of trying to control them, you’d be aces.”

I look around the room and then back at him. “What?”

“I’m at work right?” He nods and looks at me like I’m nuts. “Good, for a minute there I thought I was at church.”

He sighs, runs his big old paw through the messy waves on his head. “You’re a bitch.”

I am sitting at the bar with Macey minding my own damn business drinking a Jack and Coke, when she starts laughing.

My girl doesn’t laugh unless someone falls down, gets hit in the head, there is a fight, or she sees a guy and girl fighting and the chick leaves crying or the guy hangs his head and follows her out of the bar. Some people don’t get her, hell I didn’t like her at first, but she’s the shit. She also reminds me of someone…

“What?” I ask looking around expecting a fight.

“You seriously that hard up for a piece of ass?”

“Hell no,” I roll my eyes.

She points down to my phone. “Match?”

I shrug. “Just trying it out.”

Not that I give a shit if I put myself out there like that, but my mom is another story. I wanna keep that crap in the closet.

“Bullshit,” she laughs and grabs my phone. “You? No way.”

“What, it’s no big deal,” I say as I watch her type in my password.

My girls know it’s
F-U-C-K-O-F-F
, they also know I wouldn’t change it after they figured it out because I wouldn’t remember it if I did. Hell, they’re supposed to wipe my electronics clean if shit hits the fan.

“You have 798 views on your profile,” she says and looks mildly impressed. “Hey, I took that picture of you.”

“Yeah, it was on my phone.”

Her eyes light up in amusement as she reads the screen. “You’re trying to get a date with this profile?”

What the hell,
I grumble inwardly. “Sure.”

“You sound like such a bitch,” she shakes her head.

“If the broom fits, ride it,” I take a drink and take comfort in the burn of the liquor. It’s far better than the burn of her eyes on my face.

“Why the hell would you put Wildwood as your hometown?” She looks up at me.

“Like I want some freak to know where I really live,” I huff.

“So you’re looking for a booty call,” she states matter-a-factly.

I shrug in response.

She shakes her head and waves her hand to the bartender. “Two more.”

Jinx, the bartender walks over with a shit ass grin on his face, his blue eyes staring into mine. He’s looking at me like he
knows
me, and well, he does, in the
biblical
sense.

His uncle owns the bar and he fills in once in a while, I didn’t know this until after one drunken Throwdown Thursday. I was drunk, his multicolored mohawk looked good.

“’Sup Kat,” he says as he sets the glasses down and grips the edge of the bar.

Macey chuckles and I kick her.

“Weren’t you in jail or something?” I ask nonchalantly taking a drink then setting it down.

“Are we role playing again?” He winks at me. “I’ve been gone a long time Kat. You’ve been missing me huh?”

His cousin, Joey, the bar back chuckles.

“No, not really.” I take a drink and set it down. “Guys who like ass action via a strap-on have never been my thing.”

“Excuse me?” Jinx asks trying to seem casual but his face turns red.

“You know, ‘Oh Kat, fuck my flat little white boy ass’—”

“Bullshit,” he growls.

“Your ass
is
flat man,” Joey laughs out loud.

“That’s bullshit and you know it.” Jinx narrows his eyes at me and I shrug. He gets pissed and Macey laughs the deep dark laugh that reminds me of the Red Queen.

“I don’t like ass action,” Jinx hisses at his cousin who is balled over laughing his fool head off. “Kat, tell him the truth.”

“You sure about that?” I ask.

He looks at me like I’m deft or something and when my expression doesn’t change he looks a little intimidated.

“Fine,” I say standing up, grabbing my drink, snatching my phone away from Macey. “He doesn’t ‘like’ ass action, he loves it.”

Do you know how hard it is not to laugh, not even crack a smile when someone is laughing as hard as Joey is? It’s fucking hard.

“God you’re a bitch,” Jinx says to my back as I walk to a booth away from the bar.

Macey sits down and smirks. “Does he like ass action?”

“Why, does that get you hot?”

“I’m not sure,” she answers honestly.

“Not that I’m complaining but the fool likes his whiskey.”

“Whiskey dick? Oh fuck that.” She glares at him from across the room.

He gives her the ‘what’ look and I shake my head.

“Between you and I it didn’t much matter to me, he likes to eat pussy, so it’s all good.”

“But is he sloppy?”

I shrug. “Like I remember, I was always two sheets to the wind.”

My phone vibrates in my hand and I look down.

Alerts and notifications are pinging like crazy. I swipe the bar on the phone and open the app. Message alerts?

I look at Macey. “You need to subscribe to see what they responded.” She takes a drink and settles back.

“You didn’t?” I gasp.

“Hell yes I did.” She nods proudly.

I shake my head. “I have to pay for this shit?”

Sure enough I do, and because Macey insisted and Jack Daniels had me feeling some sort of way, I paid with that damn Apple app.

As soon as I hit pay Macey snatches it, sets it between us, and starts opening messages.

“@heartbroken326 says he thinks you’re beautiful and would like to meet up tonight,” she says as she scrolls through the picture of a guy holding a fish.

“He’s got a kid,” I say.

“Please tell me that’s not the only thing you see wrong with the fucker,” Macey says with a smirk.

“Well, the fact that he’s five foot three doesn’t help, but the kids a no-go.”

I’m allergic to kids.

His response is immediate,
I only have them a couple days a week.

I reply,
Why?

His response,
They don’t like me.

Macey and I laugh at that.

I reply,
Why?

His response,
Their mother has brainwashed them.

I reply,
I’m allergic to assholes who think they’ve done no wrong.

“Oh my God Kat,” Macey gasps.

“What?”

“Bitches can be trifling you know.”

He responds,
I won’t be an asshole to you
.

I don’t respond.

“Well say something.” Macey actually seems excited about this shit.

“Okay, I’ll give him your number,” I say as I start to type it in.

“I will cut you,” she says snatching it away.

She opens the next. “@ herdsman356, says you are one hot and sassy babe.”

I grab the phone and look at him. “Not bad,” I shrug and scroll through his profile.

@herdsman356 is a contractor, he’s five foot eleven and has a bit of a receding hairline.

“So?” Macey asks.

“I have an issue with his hair,” I answer and set the phone down.

“Well let’s hear it.” She drains her drink and holds the empty up.

I look up thinking she’s crazy, we’re in a damn corner there’s no way he’ll see her even if the bar has only a couple dozen people in it.

“I have nothing against bald men, some are hot, but it’s like this guy’s hairline is screaming, Twenty One Pilots.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“He wants to turn back time to the good old days.” I say repeating the lyrics to Stressed Out, by Twenty One Pilots.

“Kat, what the fuck are you talking about?”

“Shave the shit and move on. Wake up you need to shave it off, yo.” I shake my head.

I see Jinx coming over with drinks in hand, he’s scowling at me.

I ignore him.

“Kat,” he says leaning in close enough that I can’t possibly pretend he isn’t here.

“Jinx,” I say turning towards him.

“You gonna let me off the hook and go tell Joey I don’t like strap-ons?”

“Let it go Jinx. I did.”

“It was good though yeah?”

“I’d rather masturbate than be with you,” I answer and turn so my back is to him.

Macey laughs out loud.

“Twat,” he says to my back.

I smile inwardly knowing he gets it.

“It’s bitch,” I reply.

The more we drink the more responses we send to the twenty plus messages I have on Match.

I wake up to a hellacious headache and the only thing that makes life worth living at this moment is the smell of bacon.

I roll over and look at my phone to see the time and there are thirty-seven message notifications and it’s only seven in the morning on a
fucking
Saturday.