Page 27 of Experiments in Offline Dating

“Uh. Jackie. Any idea what this is?” I held it up to him, and he covered the sun from his eyes and squinted at it. Please, for the love of God, tell me it’s a wrong number.

“Oh! That’s Arnold. Good chap, Arnold. Got here early.”

“You . . . gave him my number?”

“’Course I did. I’ve sent loads of men your number.”

DRAG ME TO HELL!

“What? Why?”

“What do you mean, why?” He laughed. “This is what you’re paying me for!”

I laughed too, but more like the hideous strained noise you make when the bikini-wax lady tells you to flip over.

This. Is this a service I’m paying for? And just how many was “loads”? And who the hell were they? And what did Jackie tell them about me? And would they be calling? Like an actual phone call? And—dear God—if they did call, would I have to answer?

Oh no.

Another buzz.

got in over an hour ago

God in heaven! My face contorted, and I bared my teeth in awkward horror as I held up the new text to Jackie. “What am I supposed to do with this?”

“Well, I guess you’d better go and find him, then. You do have a date scheduled soon enough.”

“We do?”

We do?!?

Why the hell had I done this to myself? Suddenly and very unexpectedly, I missed my apps. My nice, safe little apps where I could peruse a stranger’s collection of selfies in bathroom mirrors standing next to urinals, and bios where they said they were “into working out,” from an undisclosed location many miles away, safe and cozy in my anonymity.

Another text!

white van across from the hydro

I showed this one to Jackie too with mounting terror, in hopes that he would come up with a better answer this time.

“Well, go ahead and text him, Maya. Tell him you’ll be right there.”

“But who even is this guy? And why doesn’t he just come here? Why do I have to be the one to go find him in his murder van?”

Jackie laughed. “He’s probably just a little shy. All right. I’ll go with ye. He’s a nice enough boy. I’m sure he’s not a murderer.”

“That . . . is just not as reassuring as it’s supposed to be.”

He stood up with his drink, so I did the same.

“Only one way to find out, though.”

“Jackie!”

When we got there, the adult man was still sitting in his van. This gave me pause, as he was in the middle of town during a singles festival, when he himself was presumably single and looking, and where there were plenty of places to drink or eat or dance or listen to music. This did not. Bode well.

He rolled down the window when we arrived, rather than stepping out like a normal.

“Hiya, Jackie. Good to see ye.”