This Isn't Working Out

The Dangers of Book Inquiries

Lily knew the blind date was over when she asked him about his favorite book.

"Atlas Shrugged," he answered confidently. "Have you read it? Ayn Rand is a genius."

Ayn Rand is a right-wing nut, she thought, debating the merits of just saying it. At least it might end the date quicker. Or he might be one of those guys who wouldn't be happy until he "explained" the myriad of ways that he was right and she was wrong. And that was just more than Lily could handle this evening.

Lily's best friend, Elizabeth, was responsible for this whole debacle. Although the lack of taste that had ended up with Lily spending the evening with Harold Jones III (not only was he a Third, but an Esquire as well, which he pointed out within .2 seconds of meeting him) fell squarely on Elizabeth's husband, Chris. Chris was a big believer in the idea that opposites attract. That's because Elizabeth had an MFA, which she currently used to create ad copy, while Chris was in finance. And they were deliriously happy. Thus "find your opposite" was his answer to any romantic conundrum.

Because of this, he constantly tried to set Lily up with guys from his work. Lily had met Elizabeth in the aforementioned MFA program and now was a struggling novelist and successful ghostwriter. Since she was a "creative type," Chris was sure her happily ever after rested with a hard-nosed numbers guy like himself.

There were so many problems with this theory, as Lily had tried to explain repeatedly. First of all, Elizabeth and Chris weren't happy because they were opposites. They had different jobs but incredibly similar personalities and liked to do all the same things (hiking, cooking, karaoke). Also, when she was interested in dating, which lately was a rarity, Lily preferred the artistic types. Books – writing them and reading them – were her life, and she wanted to be with someone she could talk to about them. All these times, Chris had set her up, and it had only lasted a date or two. Lily just ended up having nothing to say to them.

Like so many finance bros before him, Harold was mainly interested in talking about money, cars, CrossFit, and wine. After she had listened to a twenty-minute monologue on his favorite cabernets, followed by some of his personal best powerlifting numbers, she had finally interjected with her book question. And things had not improved.

Strangely, he seemed perfectly happy to be talking at her, and Lily began to worry she would never escape. Her eyes started wandering, and as she stopped even pretending to listen to him, it became increasingly clear she didn't need to be here for this conversation.

The bar was only about half full – a lot of guys in suits which made sense since Harold had suggested it as being close to his work. People at the bar and surrounding tables mainly gave off "after-work drink" vibes. Suddenly Lily locked eyes with the man sitting at the next table. He was another one she would write off as being too much of a "bro" for her, but he was of the gym and not finance variety. He had dark blond hair cut short and bright blue eyes. He seemed more relaxed than most of the other patrons and much more casual, wearing dark jeans and a worn grey shirt. And he was looking directly at her.

But before she had time to wonder about the handsome gym bunny (or whatever the male equivalent of that was) across from her, some of Harold's words entered back into her consciousness. "I mean...I wouldn't say I'm too conservative. I'm actually socially liberal, but for my bottom line, I've got to go Republican."

The man facing her had obviously overheard, and his eyes widened at the same time hers did, his face mirroring the look of horror she could feel on her own face.

Lily had officially hit her breaking point. "Look, Harry..."

"Harold."

"Sure, anyway..."

Suddenly the man from the other table was standing next to her. "Lily!" He said urgently, "I came all this way to find you. You weren't picking up your phone. You have to come back to the office; it's an emergency!"

"Oh..." Lily replied dumbly, her brain a second behind, "of course, an emergency. I'm so sorry, Harry, I mean, Harold; I'm afraid we have to end our date early."

Harold's eyes darted back and forth between the two of them. "But...didn't Chris say you were a writer or something?"

"Yes," said Lily firmly. "But in an office. And there's been an emergency."

"An emergency," the man standing by their table echoed helpfully.

Harold scowled. "Whatever," he said, "the guys are all meeting for a drink at a place down the street anyway." He threw a couple of twenties on the table, "I was going to give you a great crypto tip too, but now I guess you'll never know." And, firing what appeared to be his parting shot, he left.

"Sorry," the man said, "If I had known you were a writer, I would have come up with a better reason for interrupting. He hadn't asked you anything about yourself, so I wasn't sure what you did. I do feel like I know a lot about his CrossFit routine, though. He really likes those kettlebells."

"What...why did you..." Lily trailed off, unsure what to ask first.

"Sorry, I'm Ben. I was totally eavesdropping, and you looked so horrified. I thought you might need an out." A look of terror crossed his face. "Oh God, was I wrong? Was the date going well?"

"Did it sound like it was going well?"

"I mean, I don't want to assume. Women are not a monolith and all that. Maybe you're into guys like him? I am sure plenty of women like...hearing men talk about wine."

"I am not one of them. My friend's husband constantly tells me how opposites attract and fixes me up with guys I have nothing in common with. This was just the latest in the string of ensuing bad dates. I owe you, in any case. Can I buy you a drink?"

When he nodded, she went up to the bar and got him another beer and herself a margarita. As she settled back at their table, he started talking. "Opposites can attract, though, don't you think?"

"Attract, maybe, although Harold definitely wasn't my type on any level. But I don't think it works well in the long run. It's better to have more things in common."

"Isn't the excitement all in the mystery and newness and arguing about whether Die Hard is a Christmas movie?"

"Relationships are more than excitement. Besides, I'm not looking for a lifetime of being lectured about NFTs and Republican talking points."

"Maybe you just need the right kind of opposite?" Here Ben tilted his head down and smiled. Celeste suddenly wondered if he was flirting with her. Hopefully not; she had had her fill of "bros" of all stripes for the day.

"I think I'll go back to dating people I have more in common with. Or perhaps not dating at all." As Ben opened his mouth to interject, she held up her hand. "I know, don't give up on love, blah, blah, blah. But I don't think of it as giving up. I like my life. I would certainly have had more fun at home than hearing Harold talking about what a bad year 2018 was for grapes."

"But then you wouldn't be here talking to me." Ben raised his glass towards hers in a silent cheers.

Celeste smiled despite herself; he was pretty charming. But she was officially feeling gun-shy about all men tonight and thought she should get home before accidentally ending up on a second lousy date. She finished her drink in one swallow. "Thanks again, but I should get going. I have a friend's husband to chastise." Without a look back, she headed out the door.