“This guy doesn't seem like a cowboy. Wouldn't he post some sort of picture of him with a hat on or some spurs or something?”
She laughed. “Probably.”
I stared at the man's name, fighting the laughter that bubbled up. “Big Deck Energy? Is that seriously his handle?”
“I didn't even catch that. I was too busy looking at that washboard on display.”
“I think we found the king of the douchebags.”
Her eyes twinkled with mischief. “King? I think you're looking at the emperor.”
I turned off my screen and put my phone back in my bag, determined to have a good time with my friend, not think about Josh, or the smudge on my record that he'd caused at work. I would not let him get me down.
Two hours later, and about three too many martinis, I stumbled through my front door. My apartment was small, but that was to be expected when you lived in the city. That didn't mean I was without style. I was a designer after all. This place was created for comfort. Everything handpicked by me to suit my tastes. I loved every inch of the small space. Except that the floor seemed to be tilting and suddenly I had ten fingers on one hand.
“Oh, martinis, how you betrayed me.”
I balanced myself on the small kitchen table before heading into the kitchen and getting a large glass of water and making myself a piece of toast. “Soak up the alcohol, that's what they say.”
My cat, Snickers, wove his way between my feet and I stared down at him. “Don't you dare try to kill me, Snickers. I've had enough of douchebags today.”
Even I could hear how slurred my words were. I was going to feel like absolute garbage in the morning. Snickers meowed at me then hopped up on the counter before nudging me with his head. I smiled.
“At least you love me. You're my good boy.”
I munched on my toast then drank down the entire glass of water, got myself another, and refused to let myself go to sleep until at least the room stopped slanting.
After scrolling through Netflix and finding that I had watched the entire contents of their library at least once, I pulled my phone out of my purse, which I had forgotten to remove from my body, and proceeded to open up Meet-Cupid.
“Okay, Big Deck, let's see what you have for me.” I scrolled until I found him; Mr. Abdominals with the perfect chest and cocky handle. How dare he have the audacity to look so good and not show us his face. What was he hiding? He was everything that was wrong with men; overconfident, and…and…something else I couldn't think of at the time because my brain was too addled.
Snickers jumped into my lap and curled up on my belly, purring almost instantly. I scratched between his ears then muttered, “Stupid emperor douchebag. I wonder how you'd feel if somebody called you on your bullshit.”
Chuckling to myself I began typing.
Elles_Belles: Big deck energy? That's what you're going with? I bet that photo isn't even you. You probably got it from some stock website. Believe me, I know all about them. My friend is a romance author, I have to help her look at man chest photos all day. Unless you exist only on a diet of chicken and broccoli, I doubt those are real abs.
You would think I would stop there, but you would be wrong. Elles_Belles: And another thing. If you really look that good, then why are you on a dating app trolling for women? Can't you find a date on your own? I would think that someone as confident as you seem to be wouldn't have any trouble finding a partner. Not like me. I seem to scare away every man I talk to. Probably because I talk to them like this. And I ramble. And maybe I'm a frigid bitch. I hope I'm not a frigid bitch.
But anyway, that's beside the point. I'm here to tell you emperor of douchebags, that women deserve more than abs. We put ourselves out there for you to judge. Even though we don't want the judgment. Everything I've experienced so far on this app in the five minutes I've been here, is ridiculous. Stuff like no fatties. Single moms need not apply. What is even that about? What is wrong with men? What is wrong with you?
I stared down at my screen, the first message already having been sent and the second one sitting there looking at me with a disapproving expression. I couldn't send that to him. Some strange man on the internet. But, fate was a real bitch, and Snickers used that moment to nudge my hand, which in turn nudged my phone forward.
Just as my thumb hit Send, Big Deck’s icon turned from away to available.
As I predicted, I woke up with the hangover from hell. My head throbbed and there was a distinct taste of olives and gin lingering in my mouth. “Hashtag never again.”
Fumbling for my phone, I blinked through sticky gunky eyes. Why did everything feel so covered in a layer of grime? I groaned. I wasn't in bed. I was on my couch, halfway on my couch. Still wearing last night's clothes. Snickers happily asleep on my chest. Or was he trying to murder me? You never knew with cats. Strange notifications kept alarming on my phone. It wasn't a text. I knew what that sounded like. It was a soft little hark noise. It reminded of angels. What the hell?
I reached for the coffee table in search of my phone and finally found it. The thing had been going off over and over for quite a long time if my dreams were any indication. Sitting up, I fought the wave of nausea that accompanied the motion then pulled the phone close so I could try to read it through my dry contact lenses.
Four new messages from Big_Deck_Energy
Oh, shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. What had I done? Had I matched with this guy? No. No, I definitely did not match with him. Right?
Clicking on the little bubble that held the notification, I swallowed hard and waited for the screen to pop up. I reread the note I sent him. The two notes I'd sent him.
"Oh, God. I should not be allowed to social media and drink at the same time." Snickers stretched, turned around, and curled back up into a ball on the couch. "You're a lot of help."
Big_Deck_Energy: I beg your pardon?
Big_Deck_Energy: What have I done to deserve this bloody great tirade?
Big_Deck_Energy: I'm going to take your silence as someone just taking the piss out of me.
Big_Deck_Energy: It's not very funny.
I winced. After rereading my drunken rambles, I deserved his annoyance, or maybe worse. I called him the emperor of the douchebags. I don't even know the guy. Just because he has a hot body, doesn't mean he deserves to be treated badly. Wasn't that what I was so fed up with from men?
Elles_Belles: I don't know what to say.
I stood and wandered my way into my bathroom where I took out my contacts, and my eyes cried in relief, then brushed my teeth, washed my face, and grabbed my black rimmed glasses from their case in the medicine cabinet. Thank God today was Saturday. My phone did that tinkling hark sound again, sending my heart racing. I hadn't expected him to respond. Rushing back to the living room, I grabbed my phone and held it with two hands as I stared down at the message.
Big_Deck_Energy: I think you said plenty last night.
Elles_Belles: I'm so sorry. I don't know what came over me. Well, actually, I do. Many martinis.
Big_Deck_Energy: Do I know you? Did I, somehow slight you, you don't look familiar.
Elles_Belles: No. You were just the unfortunate victim of my man-hating breakdown. I'm sorry. You're innocent in all this. Unless ...