The Rebound Game

Eleven

I reply ten minutes later:

Clever. I am not most people, that's a wrong assumption.

As you might have guessed, I have no intention of giving him the satisfaction that he had me figure out in three minutes. Although, going out today does like sound like a fun idea. Drink and dance our sorrows till five am. Strange that we have not done that in a while. I can convince Shirley to call in sick.

I should have mentioned that I stand corrected. But looking at this from your point of view, you are not most people. You are pretty, witty, sarcastic and funny. You don't always get such a combination with most ladies.

Why do I get the nagging feeling that he is cat fishing me? He has a way with words that only a twenty five year old can pull off.

" Like it's hard to figure that out. You have been awfully chatty with him of late so he knows what you like to hear. When I said he would like to buy your love I did not mean that you develop a silly crush on him too."

Oh, I said that loud? Not good, Katie.

" Is that the speech I get for making you a delicious breakfast? I expected something along the lines of thank you." I address Shirley who is chewing her food like it cannot get to her digestion truck faster enough.

I rise from my seat at the dining table and pour myself a glass of juice.

"Whatever. May I see his picture?" She says and goes through my phone. "He's not too bad looking. And why do you reply to his texts after every fifteen seconds?"

"Why did you even bother asking for permission?"

"Now, don't get mad at me for sneaking. But you'll thank me later, I am responsible for your mental health and right now, duty calls."

"Are you really gonna use sisterhood as an excuse to snoop?" She would call me a hypocrite if she recalls that I usually go through her texts as well.

"Chill your tits. It's not like you have been sharing nudes. Not so much to get worked up about."

"My fucking tits will fucking chill when they fucking please. Phone, now." I extend my right hand and I suddenly notice that my fingers are in an urgent of need a manicure.

"Language," Shirley smirks and hands over the phone.

"What's that look you giving me for?"

"Just noticed that if you were to eliminate Christian, your phone would be dry with no incoming texts." Wow. I know that wicked glance.

"Why do I get the feeling that this observation pleases you?" I eye her suspiciously.

"Don't blame me for taking delight in the fact that I am not the only twenty four year old in town with no potential suitors to blow up her phone up with text messages."

"Thanks for the sweet reminder, it's really uplifting," I say with as much sarcasm I can summon.

The next few minutes pass by in silence as Shirley busies herself between sipping coffee and scrolling through her phone. I type a response to Christian:

Are you trying to say you find me interesting?

Really subtle Edwards, letting a man know you are fishing for a compliment. Immediately I tap send I see two blue ticks and he is typing. Men, they never have to analyze their statements with fear of appearing desperate.

Because they are almost never desperate .They just want a good time.

Interesting is an understatement. Do you trust me enough to send a picture? Or maybe even change your profile picture to an actual picture of you?

They are all the same. They always demand pictures .My profile picture is of a cruise ship, inspired by activity in my bucket list to travel by sea before I hit forty.

You're not in any way implying that my choice of a profile picture is not cool, right?

In as much as I find it odd, no. I am simply requesting that I have a picture of your sexy self. If you don't mind.

A sexy picture of me? Maybe if you shipped me lingerie and sexy dresses I might actually pose for one.

Ha! Take that Bradshaw, you are buying my love. And it's in Kenyan Shillings.