Page 81 of Experiments in Offline Dating

“Umm. Clearly not. I think we should probably . . .” Kiss? Say “kiss”! No! Definitely don’t say “kiss”! “. . . talk.”

Tadhg’s entire body went rigid. Then he ducked his head and rubbed the back of his neck, sucking a long breath between his teeth. “Any chance we could just”—he looked like he was in physical pain—“move on? And skip this part?”

“It would be easier if we clear the air, right?”

“You’re right. I know. I know. I just—” He sucked in a breath. “I’m not any good at, you know, serious talks. I’m really bad at it, in fact. I usually just fuck things up.”

“Well. Maybe right now isn’t the best time, anyway. I’ve just had three very peculiar dates in one day, I’m a little shaky, and my social battery is really low. How about we reschedule for later?”

“’Course. Later. Later’s good.” His shoulders relaxed.

So we just sat there and gazed out into the beauty for a quiet stretch, and I tried not to think too hard about later. I wondered what my cats were doing at home, and I reminded myself that I needed to call my parents, and I thought about how to parcel out these dates into podcast episodes, and I thought about how my hand was on the stone so close to his hand that I could feel the heat from it, and I sort of wished that his hand would grab mine, but I also hoped that it wouldn’t, and I decided, resolutely, not to think about that too hard either.

Chapter 21 A Brief Experiment with a Sore Vagina

Date four was an absolute doozy. A doozy that involved cycling through the Gap of Dunloe. Episode Thirty-Six: “Bicycling with Bret the Boastful.”

Tadhg drove me down a windy single-track road, and all the tourists and all their massive buses fell behind and decided not to follow. The landscape was stark and rocky and beautiful, and I was so very glad that Tadhg was driving instead of me. We worked our way slowly down the mountain, then along a seam of river where the plants were even lusher and the greens more vibrant.

When we finally came to a stop, a man was waiting there, all dressed in Lycra, and my soul deflated like a whiny balloon. This guy was going to be a lot. I could tell. Just how athletic is this going to be? His bright, shiny bike helmet strapped snugly into place gave me reason to worry.

“What time do you call this?” He smiled, but despite the smile, it felt more like a real jab than a playful tease.

“I think we’re a few minutes early, actually. Were we not supposed to meet at two?” Tadhg checked his watch. “It’s one fifty-eight.”

“No, we were supposed to start our cycle at two, which means really you should have been here by a quarter to at the latest, so that I had time to properly adjust her bike. She’s not even dressed for it. Does she have a helmet?”

The she in question looked down—black jeans, random ubiquitous T-shirt covered by light gray sweater, holes for extra-casual punk-rock style, and/or because I kept pulling it on that one sharp corner of the kitchen cabinet. Whoops. At least the jeans were stretchy. I could probably manage it.

Then, very much without my consent, my eyes did the obligatory sweep over my date. The spandex was . . . extremely tight; white and neon yellow scalded my retinas. Don’t look at his crotch! Do not look—Well, there it is.

He looked down at himself and up to me, clearly catching the can’t-fucking-miss-it laser-beam line of vision, then looked away with a decidedly smug smirk.

It was nothing to write home about.

Under his matching neon helmet, he had the face of a man in his late forties, within my conceivable age bracket, I thought. Which, unfortunately, would make this whole thing more awkward rather than less, because it would feel more like a real date. He had a healthy, sporty physique with an extremely low BMI. How would I know such a thing? Because I could see every inch of the man as if he were naked and had been merely spray-painted in obnoxious colors.

“Maya, is it? I’m Denis.” He held his hand out to shake, and I followed suit robotically. Can I please crawl back to the Jeep and curl up for a nap? “Good thing I brought an extra helmet, right?”

If you had an extra helmet all along, then why did you bother asking if we’d brought one? He held it out to me and waited for me to put the cursed thing on over my mess of hair.

“Thanks.”

“Get your leg over, then.” He smirked and patted the bike seat.

I silently acquiesced and then came several long moments where he did “adjustments” that seemed to change nothing.

“Right. Let’s get this show on the road, missy.”

Ew.

Tadhg locked eyes with me and nodded ever so slightly, secret code for You all right with this guy? I gave a wry grimace and nodded back as my date fiddled with his reflective ankle bands.

“Right. We’ll see you at three thirty,” Tadhg said to both of us, then, turning to me, added a stern “Call me if you need anything.” The lock of his eyes on mine gave me a little shiver.

Denis, who had been waiting against his will for an entirely-too-long, life-changing several minutes due to our being only two minutes early, hopped on his bike and promptly left me in the dust.

I caught up to him, not so far away, stopped in the middle of the road with one foot on the asphalt in the universal stance of Look at me having to wait for you.