“How are you good? When was the last time you went on a date?”
I looked up at the ceiling as I thought. “Like, five lifetimes ago, but I’ve already accepted the fact that I’m dying alone. You should try it. It’s less stressful.”
Talia grunted again and kicked her feet like a child. Lillian and I shared a laugh.
We made sure Lillian looked as elegant and hot as possible before lecturing her about texting us if she needed saving. Talia was always worried about her friends going out with people from dating apps. She watched too many Dateline episodes about dates gone wrong and convinced us to share our locations during the date so she could track us. It was sweeter than it was creepy. She was probably the most responsible one out of us, the mom of the group.
She glanced at her phone after the two of us made dinner, the recipe straight from our nutritionist. Baked chicken breast over brown rice, arugula salad with tomatoes, white beans, and minced garlic. Drizzled with olive oil and red wine vinegar. One of the four dinners we’d rotated on repeat for the last few months. I couldn’t wait for the games to be over so I could indulge in a greasy slice of cheese pizza.
“They’re at Louie’s,” Talia said with a judgmental scowl. “Louie’s. That dive bar with those chicken wings we ate that gave us really bad—”
I raised my hand to cut her off. She didn’t need to remind me of Louie’s and the food poisoning we both acquired from their “famous award-winning buffalo wings” about a year ago. I wasn’t sure how a bar with a consistently sticky floor won any awards, but we only started questioning that after it was too late.
“Talia, relax. She’ll be fine. And stop watching those TV shows.”
“You’re right, you’re right. I’m sorry.” She flipped her phone over and stabbed her chicken with her fork. “I’m also trying to live vicariously through her.”
“Oh, I know. But your time will come in Tokyo. You’re a babe. It won’t be too hard for you.”
“I need it to be the second Saturday of the games. It’s been a really long time.”
“With your glowing tan skin and Hawaiian beauty, you will get the much-needed attention you’ve been craving and deserve.”
“It’s been five months.”
“Ah, I don’t want to hear it. Mine’s longer.”
“Why did we choose a really high maintenance and lonely sport?”
That was a good question. Training for the Olympics was a two-year commitment. We worked out six hours a day, four of those hours spent immersed in a pool, following a black line, and not talking to anyone. We spent a lot of time with our thoughts, and that definitely took a toll on our social life. It gnawed and pricked at Talia, but she was much more of a social butterfly than I was. I diagnosed myself at least seventy percent introverted, so being alone with my thoughts and having a bedtime of nine didn’t bother me as much as it bothered her.
“I don’t know, Tal,” I said. “But the reason we did it will come to fruition soon, and then you won’t be filled with so much dread.”
“I wish I was like you, not fazed by all the stuff we have to give up. I know I’m being dramatic right now. Tapering gives you a lot of time and energy to overthink and make you feel like you’re doing something wrong.”
“Yeah, it does. You should binge Stranger Things with me. It seems like a thing normal people watch.”
“God, I’m so antsy! I just want to take a walk or a run or freakin’ go to a bar and have a drink. Or get laid. That would be nice.”
“Again, don’t complain. My dry spell has been longer.”
“So, you’ve really accepted the fact that you’ll be alone?”
“Pretty much. You tell me the last time I went out on a date.”
She puckered her lips as she thought about it. “That one girl right after you and Alexis broke up.”
After I thought for a moment, I realized she was right. That was a year ago, but that was just a dinner date and a one-night stand—rebound sex. I also didn’t have the time to date after that, as the clock counted down to the Olympics.
“Sounds about right.”
“Any plans on resurrecting the dating app after Tokyo?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know. It seems as time consuming as swimming.”
“Because you haven’t tried. Haven’t you only seriously dated, like, two women since you moved out here?”
“I wouldn’t call Alexis or Bethany a serious relationship. Definitely not Alexis. Don’t let our nine-month relationship fool you. She can’t be tamed.”
Alexis was the epitome of that Miley Cyrus song. She was this really hot blond tattoo artist with a full sleeve and five years of experience on me. How we lasted nine months still baffled me because looking back, the only chemistry we had was sexual. She was my longest relationship since I moved to San Francisco, but my four-month-long relationship with Bethany in college was more of a relationship than Alexis. At least Bethany acted like we were together. Alexis struggled to have a girlfriend. I don’t think monogamy was meant for her. Since she had a wall up, my heart never fully opened for her, so when I broke up with her, I wasn’t heartbroken. More relieved that we could stop trying to fit into something that wasn’t meant for us. Being with her was more work than training for Tokyo.
“I’m not against dating,” I continued. “I just don’t want to waste my time if there isn’t any chemistry. The free time I have is limited and valuable. If I’m going to date, I want to feel this thrill and excitement and have my stomach constantly on spin cycle while I’m around them.”
“You’ve been on a lot of Tinder dates. No spark from any of them?”
No. After the Rebound Girl a few weeks after Alexis, I deleted the app. It was Tokyo crunch time. But before Alexis, I did go on quite a few dates. Only about three or four girls for a month or so, and then they got so fed up with my busy schedule that most of them told me they couldn’t do it, and I didn’t bat an eye. I understood where they were coming from. Dating someone training for the Olympics came with only a few spare days and nights.
“A sexual spark, yes,” I replied. “A spark that runs deep? No. I haven’t felt that way in a really long time.”
She let out a long sigh. “Same. We should try the apps again after Tokyo.”
“If we’re going to date anyone, we should do it soon; we’ve got two years before we sell our souls to train for Paris.”
She raised her water glass in cheers, and I followed her lead and clinked it. “Sounds good to me,” Talia said.
After we ate, we checked in on Lillian to find her still at Louie’s. She was alive and well after she told us she passed on the chicken wings and got a burger instead, so we knew she wouldn’t die or suffer food poisoning.
Talia and I turned on the TV and settled on the couch to watch an episode of Stranger Things. Since we weren’t normal people, we were only on the first season, trying to use all the available taper time to understand pop culture references. Lillian had been begging us to watch it so we could dress up as the gang for Halloween.
“You know, this show would be a million times better with a gay element,” I said “I’m thinking Nancy would be good. She’s cute.”