Dating isn't my thing. I'm nearly twenty-seven years old and living only with my gray cat Whiskers. To be honest, I really haven't tried to find anyone. But I shouldn't have to try right? I'm the girl, a guy should try for me if he's worth the relationship.
But that downfall may also be my fault. I focus on work so much that I've really lost touch with my social life. Besides my family, a couple close high school friends, and Whiskers, my life is dry.
Actually, you know what, it really isn't my fault that relationships don't work for me. In the past it was always the same thing: a cheater, too clingy, or no communication. Always a downfall for every guy.
So when my Mom suggested that I go on Match.com, I wasn't for it. The first time she mentioned it, I refused. The second time, we argued about the pros and cons of it all. The third, she played the "I want grandkids" card. I finally gave in.
Last night, I set up a profile:
Name: Fairrah Pomeroy
Age: 26
Profession: Psychologist
Hobbies: Netflix, Swimming, Archery
Interests in partner: Sense of humor, Wants children, Outgoing, Spontaneous
Picked the best selfie I could find for an avi. The one from Easter brunch? Ehh, good enough. The website started to bring up memories of past relationships. Coen from junior year, Blaze from senior year, Jake from the summer after graduation, Gale from freshman year at university, Gale lasted the longest - two years.
I pondered how each one went, all the pitfalls and happy times. I smiled with confidence.
They had all hurt me in some way, but I was the one to end it.
I ended each of them.
I went to bed after finishing the profile. When I woke up this morning, I found that 3 guys were interested. The one that popped out at me was Chip Hartley.
As far as looks go, he was my type. Rich, dark brown hair, bright blue eyes, and a pronounced jaw. As I read over his profile, it seemed he fit the piece even more. He was very outgoing and funny, a comedian actually.
I messaged him, letting him know I was interested, too. He messaged back not long after. We talked for awhile and decided we'd go for coffee Monday evening.
I reached the coffee shop at 6 on the dot. There he sat, at a table by the window, his hands clasped patiently together. He looked up as I came closer and smiled a toothy grin. He had a nice smile.
"Hi," I said, waving timidly as I removed my purse from my shoulder.
"Hi. You're even prettier in person," he said, his blue eyes glistening.
I blushed faintly and sat down in front of him. "Same for you."
We made small talk and sipped iced coffees for the next couple hours. One date and I already liked the guy, a lot. He seemed different than my previous boyfriends, I couldn't put my finger on why.
That first date led to a second, and a third, and many more. We've been official for 6 months now, and Whiskers and I currently live with Chip in his apartment.
Things have been great for us. We always talk, rarely fight, and have fun together no matter what we're doing. I thought things were perfect, but they've just been weird this past week.
Chip will come home from the comedy club later than usual. He always says that he stayed for drinks with his friends at the open bar or he needed fresh air and took a walk.
I knew he was lying. To most, his honest facade is unbreakable, but I can read him like a book. When the late nights became later nights, I took initiative.
Last night I followed him to the comedy club, waiting outside until his act was over. When he came out, I ducked below the steering wheel, making myself unseen. He got in his car and I followed him from a safe distance.
He drove a few blocks and stopped at another curb. A lanky girl in a green dress - that looked more like a shirt - and 5 inch heels approached his open window, smiling as they exchanged words. When she scaled the front of the car and got into the passenger's seat, I saw red.
How could the best guy I've dated do this to me? I didn't confront them, and I didn't wait to see what disgusting acts they would commit. I just drove off, towards home. I glared at the reflection of his car in my rear view mirror as it turned around and drove in the other direction.
He definitely was going to get it when he got home.
When I pulled into our driveway, I had the jitters like a mad woman. I slammed the front door, startling Whiskers from his nap, and went straight to our room.
I grabbed the pistol I kept in the nightstand drawer for safety. And then I walked back into the living room, plopped down on Chip's armchair, and faced the front door.
When he finally showed up, an hour and a half later, he was a mess. His clothes were ruffled and slightly dirty, and he had faint claw marks on his arms.
"Nice of you to come home, chocolate Chip," I smiled amusingly at his puzzled expression.
"Sorry, babe. Went for nachos with the guys," he said as he shut the front door.
When he turned back towards me, I already had the gun held up, pointed at his heart. "Why are you lying to me? I saw you with the whore!"
He flinched. "Just let me explain, please..."
I jumped up and pushed the gun into his chest, he flinched again. "No, you don't get to explain. You're just like every other boyfriend I've had, a lying cheating snake. Now I'm going to end you like I ended them, with a lot of blood."
Suddenly, a smirk etched across his once bewildered face. I saw a spark alight in his blue eyes.
"Fairrah, I never mentioned one of my other hobbies on my dating profile...it seems we're more alike than you think."
I cocked an eyebrow, "What do you mean?" I held the gun firmly against his chest.
"You think I would really have sex with that prostitute?" He looked even more amused, but I didn't find it funny.
"Why else would you pick her up Chip?!" I was angry and he was beating around the bush.
"I have my reasons. She's not the first, Fairrah. There were more. She's number 13." His smug look was getting on my nerves.
"You've had sex with 13 other women?!" My finger was hot on the twigger.
"No, Fair bear. I've killed 13 women. Just like you, with all the idiot guys that screwed you up. Number 13 is still outside, in the trunk of my car. You can help me with the job?" He smiled and held out his hand, a glimmer of hope in his eyes.
I was speechless. All those bad endings, all the heartbreaks, all of the dead boyfriends led to this.
I dropped the gun and took his hand, following him to the trunk of his car.
