whatever.”
She has way more energy than me, but I’m getting a second wind. “Look at you taking the initiative. Good job. And 5:30 is perfect.”
Holy Influencers, Batman!
This place is packed. Good thing I’m not trying to avoid a certain someone. My eyes scan the room like the Secret Service looking for potential assassins. Only I’m scanning for a scummy fake alpha with a crazy she-wolf bitch by his side and a fake last name.
Nope. None of those in the dining area at the moment.
We get seated on the edge, luckily, so I can see people coming and going. I’m trying to be as relaxed as possible but I don’t think it’s working. How do I know? Well my first clue is Sabina turning to me and saying, “What’s the matter? You have some crazy eyes right now.”
Shit. “Sorry. I was just. . .”
“I scanned the room already. Don’t worry, he’s not here.”
Good listening. “Thank you. Sorry if I’m acting weird, I’m preoccupied.”
Sabina waves the waitress over and we order glasses of wine. “Do not apologize. You’re handling it better than I would if I was forced to see an ex who’d cheated on me. That’s a lot.”
It is. I’m glad she understands. “Thanks for keeping an eye out.” I take a bigger gulp of wine than I should when she brings the glasses over to our table. Actually, I’m pretty sure you’re not supposed to gulp wine at all, but whatevs, I’m trying to numb my anxiety, don’t judge me. “So, tell me how things are going with your blog. Any more subscribers?”
“Oh my God, a ton. It’s all due to you.”
“I take zero credit.” I’m lying, I take most of the credit. I gave her blog a shout out and a let her take 30 seconds on a video I made last week to tell my audience where they can find it. It was the best free promotion that girl could have, and I’m happy to have done it for her.
“No, it’s you—I’m calling it the Shoshana Effect. I jumped a few thousand subscribers. But now I need to write more. It’s a little overwhelming.”
“Content junkies, that’s what your subscribers are, and you need to keep them in a steady supply of it.” She giggles. “What?”
“That’s the second time you’ve compared something I did to being a drug dealer. First it was coffee junkies, now it’s content junkies. I’m like El Chapo.”
“You are,” I say. “I mean, minus the actual drugs and unthinkable violence, but still. You want to be big like him.”
“I think I finally found a new name for it—The El Chapo blog.”
She’s been struggling with finding a brand for her new blog. Before it was just her name and a Wordpress account. Since taking my advice and shifting her posts to be about dating in New York—and more specifically bad dating in New York, she can’t find a good name.
“You might attract a whole different audience if you do that. Keep thinking.”
“I’m trying.”
We order more food than two small women should ever be able to eat. The waitress’ wish of “bon appetite” is like the sounding of a starter pistol, and we get after those plates like we were just freed by a cult that held us for a month without food.
I didn’t realize I was as hungry as I clearly am, but I just keep eating. Sabina excuses herself to go to the bathroom. A few seconds later my head is back down in my plate as I lay waste to chicken parm.
Then, like a movie script, I hear that deep voice. “Go easy, no ones going to steal it from you.” I slowly raise my head and see the one person I’m trying to avoid standing over me, looking down with his stupid sea green eyes. “Seriously, you could be an extra in Oliver right now.”
“Hey,” is all I can think to say to him.
“Hey yourself. Fancy meeting you here.”
“No, it’s not. You knew I’d be here and I knew you’d be here. Couldn’t you just be a good normal ex and try to avoid me?”
“An ex?” he asks, sounding genuinely surprised by me calling him that. “Is that what I am? We’re broken up?”
It’s my turn to give him the ‘are-you-serious’ face. “Really, Conor? This is a shock to you?”
“I guess not,” he says. “What’s a shock to me is that you fucking ghosted me. . . again! Usually when people break up they actually say those words to one another. You just