A girl could dream, right?
When Hallie got home, she was relieved that Ruthie was out. Her roommate had left a note on the door—WENT FLISPING IN GD. BE BACK TOMORROW—so she was alone for the entire night.
Hallie rarely understood Ruthie’s notes. She had no idea what flisping was, but it probably involved being upside down with strangers or something. And GD—that was anybody’s guess.
She turned on some music, opened a bottle of Lucky Bucket, and started putting on makeup. She had two hours before she was meeting Kyle, which she considered to be the perfect amount of time to pick an outfit, do her makeup, and maybe catch a tiny buzz to ward off those first-date-in-eighty-five-years nerves.
She was in her closet, rummaging for the black pants that made her butt look amazing, when her phone buzzed. She looked down at it and saw she had a notification from Looking4TheReal. She clicked on the app and realized she was actually hoping that it was Kyle canceling.
The notification stamp （a heart, of course） was on her inbox. Hallie clicked on it and immediately felt disappointment when she didn’t see Kyle’s name.
The message was from Jack, the wedding guy.
Jack: Hey, Tiny Bartender. How’s the hunt going?
Hallie sat down on her shoe shelf. You sure know how to make it sound romantic.
Jack: Sorry. Let me start over. AHEM. Have you found a man via your Soulmate-Home-Shopping-Network app?
Hallie: It is exactly like that, isn’t it?
Jack: Only instead of beautiful jewels for just 14.99, you’re mulling over whether to proceed to checkout with Dude Who Caught Fish.
Hallie snorted. I kind of want to just sit here and mock our dating lives right now, but I actually have a date tonight.
Jack: The hell you say.
Hallie: I clicked on the first guy I could find without a dead creature in his profile pic （who didn’t look like an ogre） and he seems nice.
Jack: Wow. He seems nice? Is that where the bar is set—at nice?
Hallie: What’s wrong with nice?
Jack: Nothing. I mean, I’m sure you cannot LIVE without getting railed by a “nice” guy.
Hallie: Eww, can you explain the particulars of what getting “railed” entails? It sounds . . . torturous. Painful. I think you might be doing it wrong.
Jack: HAL.
She started giggling in her closet and texted: I’m mocking the terminology and THAT IS ALL.
Hallie saw the pants hanging at the end of the rack, so she grabbed them and went back into her room.
Jack: I will concede that getting railed is a shit phrase. May I toss out other options for your approval? I also have a date this evening and want to make sure I don’t say something offensive.
Hallie: WAIT. YOU HAVE A DATE? Was it through the app? Tell me everything.
Jack: Settle your ass down. Yes, through the app. According to her profile, she’s blond, works in marketing, and enjoys running and getting railed.
Hallie: Haha. Are you excited?
Jack: Honestly? Not at all. She seemed cool when we talked, but there’s something nerve-racking about meeting up with someone for the first time when there’s already a love/dating expectation. Chemistry is the thing that matters most on a first date, and it’s so hard for it to be there naturally when everything feels formulaic.
He hit it on the head, why she felt like she was getting ready for a job interview. Hallie dropped her sweatpants and stepped into the good pants.
Hallie: HARD feel that. Hopefully we will both have delightful evenings.
Jack: Your lips to Ditka’s ears. Also, what about “bonked”？
Hallie: First of all, Ditka is not God. And nope, that’s not it.
Jack: Blasphemy. How about “getting hammered.”
Hallie: Sounds like a home repair.
Jack: Getting my parts jostled?
Hallie: Are you going in for your annual checkup or having sex?
Jack: I’ve got it. “Playing a little in and out”？
Hallie: You are a child, a tiny little man boy who will not be getting bonked, hammered, jostled, or railed if you say any of those things.
Jack: What about “making love”？
Hallie: Vomited in my mouth a little.
Jack: FINE. I’m just taking her out for food and conversation now. You ruined everything.
Hallie: Well, good luck, Jack.
Jack: Good luck to you, Tiny Bartender.
Hallie: I’m not a bartender anymore, FYI.
Jack: You’ll always be MY tiny bartender, but what happened? Did they fire you for getting railed by the best man at a wedding you worked?
Hallie: Ignoring your dipshittery to say that I quit both of my part-time jobs to be a full-time grown-up.