saw you on television this morning. Those pants made my day.”
“Thank you,” I insert into the conversation. “I picked them out for him to wear.”
Dr. Banana Pants’ somewhat excitable admirer turns to me and announces, “That segment was the highlight of my week. At least until coming here and seeing the man in the flesh.” She’s back to drooling after my dinner companion.
Ben looks intensely agitated. His face has turned a bright pink, and his jaw is so clenched you’d probably need a crowbar to pry it open. I decide to have a little fun. “Dr. Ben, are you single or are you seeing somebody?”
“I … I … I’m … why does it matter?”
“I was just thinking that we could do a fun segment where I match you up with a viewer based on her star sign.” I tell his admirer, “I’m adding a dating feature to my app. You aren’t by chance a Leo, are you?”
“I’m a Libra,” she tells me. “But I did some research after your segment and found out that Libra women do well with Gemini men.” She looks at Ben from under her long flirty lashes.
“As flattering as this attention is,” Ben says nervously, “I’m not currently on the market.”
“You’re married?” she asks disappointedly.
“No, just not on the market,” he tells her.
After signing a cocktail napkin for both women, they eventually walk back to their own table. Ben looks relieved and furious at the same time. “If we’re going to work together, you need to know I won’t put up with being put on the spot like that.” He sounds like a stern father about to ground me.
I’m a bit taken aback by his anger. “I was just brainstorming out loud. Plus, she was totally cute and super into you.”
“Well, don’t do it again,” he says with a set jaw.
“Dude, relax,” I tell him. “I just figured a good-looking guy like yourself might enjoy the social aspects of being a national television star.”
“Oh, really? Would you like it if that were a couple of men interested in you?”
Hmm, probably not, but since he’s being so rude about it, I’m not going to admit it. Before I answer, he continues. “Are you going to put yourself out there to date total strangers?”
“Not unless the retired crowd is interested in dating me. Men our age aren’t usually watching morning television.”
“That’s sexist,” he says derisively.
“It would only be sexist if it weren’t true,” I tell him. “But if men in their thirties were morning show people, I’d totally do it.” I think about my sad personal life and once again get excited about my dating app.
“Sure you would,” he says, oozing sarcasm.
“You don’t know me, so don’t pretend you do.”
“I just find it hard to believe any woman would be willing to date some random stranger just because he saw you on TV. It sounds stalkerish.”
“Everyone you don’t already know is a random stranger. That’s how dating works. You meet someone new and learn about them. Then you decide if you want to go out with them again,” I say, before adding, “I’m surprised you don’t know this.”
His face turns slightly red, then he runs his tongue over his teeth. “Okay, fine. You’re also a dating expert who knows the secret to happiness, and I’m a closed-off shut-in who has no idea about the opposite sex.”
I stare at him, wondering if there’s some truth to what he’s saying. Nope. He’s way too good-looking for that to be the case.
He holds up both hands in front of him like he’s getting ready to catch a basketball. “It doesn’t matter. We’re here to discuss the show, which we’ve done. Clearly, it’s in both our best interests to keep our future interactions as brief as possible as we seem incapable of having a civil conversation.”
“Um, okay,” I say with more than a hint of derisiveness. “I thought we could find some common ground, but apparently that’s not possible. Look, we don’t have to be friends, but we do have to work together. We can either make the best of it or we can always be at odds. I think life will be more pleasant if we try to get along.”
After a lengthy silence, he answers, “For that to happen, you can’t make me look like a fool again. I will not wear any more clothes that you pick out for me and I will not allow you to try to set me up. Is that understood?”
“Perfectly,” I tell him. Meanwhile his