Six
SORA
Did you know that single people are often happier than married people? And single people are often healthier, too. What if #GoingSolo helps us live longer?
—SOLO FEBRUARY CHALLENGE
By Friday, I still haven’t come up with a good excuse to get out of FlyFit, but I’m hoping, like all of the problems in my life, if I just aggressively ignore it, it will go away. In the meantime, I focus on the next installment of Solo February.
When did we decide as a society that paired up is the best thing to be? Why do we ALWAYS celebrate couples, but we never celebrate singles? It’s like we’re all afraid of being alone, like we all dislike ourselves so much that no one can imagine a single life making us happy. I think we need to work on celebrating being single. Imagine if society as a whole spent more time telling you that you are fine all on your own. What if staying single, and living a fulfilling life, was held up as just as meaningful a path as getting married and having kids?
There’s actual scientific evidence that some people are happier single than they are in relationships.
I say we start with a new holiday celebrating being single. We can buy ourselves our own boxes of chocolate. I’d actually prefer bacon boxes. Bacon-wrapped bacon. Bacon-shaped hearts! Yes!
My stomach rumbles. I pause, staring at my blinking cursor. I need a break.
Preferably, one that involves food.
I fire off a quick text to Stella Rosenstein, one of my closest friends who also works from home and lives two doors down.
She texts back, It’s 10 AM.
Brunch then? I offer.
It’s one of the perks of working from home. I can eat whenever I want. This is also one of the downsides of working from home: I eat whenever I want. I’ve not been hungry in many months. I’m not even sure what “peckish” feels like anymore. I just constantly stuff my face with milky white coffee, cheese sticks, and pita chips all day long.
I’m in, Stella writes. We need bagels. Little known fact: our desk jobs require carb-loading.
I love Stella. She was born in Nigeria, but was adopted and raised by a rabbi and his wife, and grew up in the northern suburbs of Chicago. The fact that she’s a licensed therapist who sees patients in virtual sessions from her home office has nothing to do with the fact that we’re best friends.
Is that your therapeutic opinion? I ask her.
Everything is my therapeutic opinion.
Twenty-five minutes later I’m sitting across from Stella at her favorite bagel joint. They’re certified kosher, so they don’t serve bacon, but their bagels are the size of my face and literally to die for, so I’m okay with that.
Stella is the only one on earth I know who has a worse dating life than I do (she’s forever ruined the idea that if only I was attracted to women, my romantic life would be simpler). She’s told me multiple times that I need to get over myself. Turns out, relationships are just freakin’ hard, no matter who you’re attracted to.
“I dumped Terran,” she announces as she unwraps her lox and bagel. She’s wearing her typical work outfit: from the waist up, a tasteful sweater, muted makeup, and her dark curls loose down her shoulders. Waist down, however, she’s wearing faded joggers and a pair of her most comfortable vintage sneakers.
“Finally,” I say, relieved. “You can’t date someone named Terrain.” I say her name with exaggerated disdain. I take a bite of my own everything bagel with extra cream cheese. It’s toasty, warm, and chewy goodness.
“You know she doesn’t pronounce it like that. And she didn’t pick her name.”
“Yeah, I know.” I roll my eyes. “It’s less about the name, and more about her being a terrible person who met up with women behind your back on apps after you both agreed to be exclusive.”
Stella blinks twice, and I see a sheen of tears across her dark brown eyes. “She’s emotionally unavailable. I always fall for those types. I feel like such a schmuck.”
“You don’t always fall for those types. Just almost always.” I grin. “Besides, I actually think you set good boundaries with Terran. You told her what you needed, and when she didn’t give it to you, you let her go.”
“Then why do I feel so lousy?” Stella laments.
“In a couple of weeks, you will feel better. Besides, you’ll be the toast of all the apps the second you put your profile back up.”
Stella is objectively gorgeous. She’s got this mane of cascading dark curls and deep umber skin that is absolutely pore-free and breathtaking. She looks like she ought to be a model rather than a therapist, and whenever we go out together, all the men flirt with her and ignore me, but then, I get the joy of telling them she’ll never be interested in them, no matter what they do. “I’m not going to set unrealistic expectations. I tell my patients this all the time, but look at me.”
“Hey, you know it’s always harder to follow your own advice! Plus, you can’t be objective about yourself. That’s why no one can be their own therapist.”
“Thanks.” She smiles at me, wiping her nose with a napkin. “Hey, by the way, I’ve been reading Solo February. The articles are good. Really good.”
“They are?” I blink.
“Yes! I’m really proud of you—usually you just run headfirst into a new relationship, but I’m so glad you’re taking some time for you, and really evaluating what you need before you start crushing on some new guy.”
I think about meeting Jack at Margo’s and wonder if I should tell Stella about him. Then again, why bother? Jack has a girlfriend. Ergo, I can’t be crushing on him. Even if I am. A little.
“I don’t always jump into a new crush,” I protest.
“That’s your MO,” Stella scoffs. “Remember how you met Dan? That was right after you just broke up with Chris.”
“Ugh. Chris,” I groan. After we had our “let’s be exclusive” talk and agreed not to date anyone else, he went to Cancún with his ex-girlfriend.
“And Chris came right after Nathan.”
“Don’t remind me.” Nathan, who told me, flat-out, there were too many options out there for men over thirty, and that the older he got, the more options he had, whereas my dating pool as a straight woman sharply dwindles every year. The numbers, he said, didn’t lie, and it made no sense for him to ever settle down, until he reached his fifties. I spent a few months thinking I might be able to change his mind. Dumb, I know.
“And Nathan was right after Marley. So, you’ve kind of got a pattern. A little bit.” Stella takes a big bite of bagel and chews thoughtfully. “I’m just glad you’re taking some time, exploring what you need. The articles are authentic and real. In fact, I think it’s the most authentic thing you’ve written.”
“You’re saying I’m not authentic when I write about the best toothpastes to use before a blowjob?”
“Uh, ew?” Stella wrinkles her nose in distaste. “I’m just saying, you’ve always talked about wanting to write something more meaningful. I think this could be it.” Stella takes a sip of her coffee. “I think I’ll do the challenge, too, actually. Solo February sounds pretty good to me.”
“Seriously?” I can’t believe Stella is joining me.
“Why not? It’s healthy to take stock of one’s life. And lots of people are doing it.”
“They are?”
Stella pulls up my first article, which I haven’t looked at in a while. It’s gotten fifteen thousand likes. That’s more likes than any one of my articles before. By about 14,850.
You go, girl! Thank you for saying what we’ve all been thinking. We need a relationship detox.
You write it, sister!
To hell with love. #GoSoloYolo
The door near our table dings and a sharp blast of February air rips across the back of my neck. I glance up in time to see none other than Jack Mann, wearing a navy wool peacoat, cargo pants, and sturdy, winter-proof lug boots, saunter in. I feel pure happiness, followed by existential dread. Stella, meanwhile, doesn’t notice him.
“See? Your words are really resonating with people.”
“Uh … yeah.” Jack hasn’t seen me yet. He’s more gorgeous than I remember, and in my memory, he’s the love child of Keanu Reeves and Jason Momoa.
He’s alone. Is his girlfriend meeting him here? I watch as he heads to the cashier, who turns behind her to pour him a cup of coffee—to go. He must be on break. Margo’s is just down the street.
“I’m serious, Sora,” Stella continues. “You might really be onto something here. Something good.”
“Yeah. I probably am…” When Jack turns around, there’s no way he won’t see me. We’re sitting right by the door. The cashier hands Jack a receipt and his to-go cup. Should I hide? I don’t know what to do! Jack turns. We make eye contact. Jack’s gorgeous face breaks into a smile so perfect and sexy and stunning that I can’t actually breathe for two whole seconds. He closes the distance between the cashier and our table in two long strides.
“Sora?” he says in his stupidly deep voice.
“J-Jack!” I sputter, just as Stella swivels to eye Jack, who’s standing over our table. The to-go coffee cup looks like a tiny toddler sippy cup in his massive paw. “Uh. How are you?”
“Good. Better now that I’ve run into you.” He grins at me. Stella clears her throat.
“Uh … Jack, meet my friend Stella.”
Jack grins. “Oh, nice to meet you,” he says, offering up his strong hand. Stella takes it cautiously, a gleam of “who the hell is this man” in her eyes as she glances at me, eyebrow raised.
“How do you know Sora?” she asks, the question laced with about a dozen different meanings.
“We went to elementary school together.”
“Oh. Really?” Stella can’t contain her surprise, likely because I never mentioned that I shared a classroom with a Greek god.
“In fact, I know all of Sora’s secrets,” Jack teases. “She made a paper fortune-teller in third grade that predicted she’d own a Volkswagen, have four children, and be president of the United States. All by age thirty-three.”
“Cootie catchers are notoriously accurate,” I agree, loving the way I fall into easy banter with this man like a pair of comfortable slippers. “It’s why I’m getting my presidential exploration committee together now.”
“Oh, good, and I assume you’ve already got the Volkswagen.”
“Plan to purchase one next month. And the quintuplets will be on the way. Any day now.” I pat my stomach. We grin at each other. Stella coughs. Right. Solo February. And the fact that Jack has a girlfriend.
“Listen,” Jack begins. “I just wanted you to know that Mal—”
Ugh, the girlfriend. “You don’t have to explain,” I jump in, quickly. Please don’t. I already have terrible nightmares of them wearing matching heart underwear as they tickle each other in their swinging bear piñata.
“I feel like I have to. I mean, we’re not dating. We used to date, but, uh…” This is becoming awkward. “I mean, we’re not. Dating, that is…”
“What?”
“We’re not dating. We used to. But we’re not now. I know she made it look like we are, but we’re not.”
Stella makes a snorting sound. Probably because that’s exactly what Terran would say.
“You’re not dating.” I still can’t believe it. Mal seemed so cozy and territorial when she called him “Jack-a-boo.” Which … gross.
“No. Absolutely not. We broke up a year ago.” Jack rubs his neck in discomfort. “She’s just not over it.”
Given how his bicep is so large when flexed that I can see the impression of the muscle through his wool peacoat, then, yeah, I get why she’s not over Jack.
“So, listen, before she interrupted us yesterday, I was going to see if…” He starts talking a little bit faster. “If maybe you wanted to go out sometime? Grab a drink? Coffee?”
Stella’s eyes widen as she looks at me. She’s as surprised as I am. Neither one of us has probably been asked on a date in person in years. Usually, the ask comes in the form of a vague text message, hinting about a possible, theoretical date, like Been meaning to check out that new bar in River North.
“Or, you know,” he says, a gleam in his eye, “we could just find a playground and race to the swings like old times.”
“Yes!” I cry, but just as I’m about to jump up and down like I’ve won The Price Is Right showcase showdown, I see Stella’s disapproving face. Crap. Solo February. “I mean, yes, I’d love to do that, but…”
Stella raises both brows.
“I kind of … sort of … pledged to give up men for the month of February.”
Jack looks like I’ve just handed him a calculus problem. “You don’t like men?” he asks.
“No. I mean, I like men too much. I love them. Can’t get enough of them,” I say. Okay, not what I mean, exactly. “I’ve just sworn off dating for February.”
He squints, still not sure what the hell I mean. I don’t even know what I mean anymore. Not with Jack’s big brown eyes in front of me, pools of warm chocolate.
“So, it’s not me, it’s all men?” he asks, trying to wrap his big sexy arms around this rejection. Real disappointment flashes in his eyes. I hate that. I want to immediately reverse course.
“Just for February,” I say, hoping that tinge of sadness in his eyes goes away. It doesn’t. Crap. He thinks I’m rejecting him permanently. He covers up his dejection with a flat smile.
“Oh. Okay. I get it.” He flips up his wool coat collar, not meeting my gaze. “Well, uh, then I’ll be going. Stella, nice to meet you.”
She nods at him. “You, too, Jack.”
I watch him as he exits the restaurant, my stomach twisting painfully in knots. Why do I feel like I’ve blown it?
“Who the hell was that?” Stella hisses when he’s gone. “You, my friend, have a lot of explaining to do.”