Fate Interrupted

5. Plenty of Fish

Ren

After my drinks with Hannah, I'm home but not quite tired yet. I'm up in my small bedroom, lying on my old bed, staring up at the ugly texture of the white ceiling, just as I had when I was a teen. Back to square one.

I don't quite know what to do with myself. I've already binge-watched all of the girly movies I haven't seen in my stockpile. I've finished reading Eat Pray Love, and I just can't with the divorce recovery workbook. My divorce coping mechanism is to try not to think about it. Actually, seeing Gio is really helping with that.

My mood is still a bit erratic from my brief but exciting encounter with him, and my emotions lightly jingle around like a wind chime. A part of me wanted so badly to share the news with Hannah, but another part wasn't sure I was ready to share all my mixed-up feelings just yet.

My brain still can't quite believe I actually ran into him already, and my heart does a somersault whenever I picture the look on his face after I hugged him. He looked so good, all dressed up... grown up. I close my eyes, picture him, and let my imagination take me back.

I have memories of him here in this very room, climbing on top of me, both of us wet from swimming in the pool when my mom was away. The feel of the weight of his body on mine, pulling my bikini top off, his mouth all over me. In my mind, his face blurs back and forth between how he looked then and how he looked today.

I lie on my back, enjoying the visuals like soft porn in my brain one moment more before I roll over on my bed, grab my laptop, and open it on my legs. I'm just staring at my computer's home screen for a minute as my mouse wavers over the Google search bar and clicks in. My fingers prepare to type. I type...

Giovanni Regalli.

There is something about the act of typing out his name that is so pleasurable. I wish I had his number... or an address... or something...

What! No! You are not allowed to search his name again. You already know there's nothing to find.

Sighing, I roll onto my stomach and scroll through Facebook instead. The posts pass by my eyes in an endless stream as my mind wanders to these dating sites my girlfriends keep mentioning and what all the fuss is all about.

Maybe Gio's on there... I could just sign up and take a look... I wouldn't actually have to go on any dates... right?

My heart replies with a resounding yes in the form of jitters shooting down my fingers, and I search OkCupid and sign up. I upload my best selfie I took on a night out back in New York and answer some basic questions:

Age: 29

Height: 5'-7"

But then the questions take a left turn.

Which would you rather be—normal or weird? Hmm, is this a trick question? I have a weird side... but I'm selecting normal... what if they match me with a bunch of really bizarre guys.

Do you like the taste of beer? Random question, but yes.

Do you like the idea of living alone? Oh... I don't know, actually. I've just started apartment hunting today. This'll be the first time I've ever lived alone—no roommates, no boyfriend, no husband. As much as it feels like the adult 30-year-old thing to be doing, I'm nervous, if I'm honest. I like having people around, even if they are just doing their own thing in the house. The questions continue.

Could you live with someone who is really messy? No.

Do you go to great lengths to avoid conflict? Yes.