“I’m listening to a podcast about chocolate while I clean up old videos.”
“Ooooh. What does that mean?”
They explained a little bit about hashtags and YouTube changing algorithms, and end cards, and other interesting behind-the-scenes stuff I had no idea existed.
“Hashtag-Sidlan is one of the most popular comments on The Love Study videos. I’m not kidding.”
“Wow. They...are they missing the point a little?”
“That depends on what you think the point is. For a generation still watching Disney movies well into their twenties, the point might actually be for you to live happily ever after in partnered bliss, in which case I suppose they’re pursuing that goal with the means they have available.”
I laughed. “And that means is YouTube comments?”
“It’s making me happy I never started a Twitter account. Though there has been some...um... I guess you’d call it ‘fan art’ on Instagram.”
“Holy shit. Of us?”
“Don’t look. Swear to me you won’t look. It’s ridiculous. I’m ignoring them.”
I tried not to giggle, but it was one of those times when not giggling turned into explosive giggling turned into might have to pull over because I can’t see for tears laughter.
“I...did not predict this response,” Sidney said after a minute. This time I was pretty sure they were smiling.
“Sorry! I’m sorry. Some of this is pent-up date energy, probably. But oh my god, there is fan art. No one’s ever made fan art of me before.”
“You can no longer say that.”
“Wow. That is...wow. I don’t even know how to...wow.” I wiped my eyes and pulled, with some relief, into my landlord’s driveway, parking off to the side where the gate to the backyard was.
“It’s absurd. They know they’re being nuts, but I’m honestly not sure they can help themselves.”
I thought Sidney was still amused by my laughter, but I couldn’t tell how much of their protest was about how silly their fans were, and how much was about how silly the very idea of us being together was. I...hoped it was more the former than the latter. But Sidney was so deadpan it was really hard to tell.
“Fan art.” I made a big deal out of sighing happily. “Sidlan fan art. Wow.”
“I’m pleased you don’t find it disturbing. There are some distinctly strange aspects to this business, and the presumed accessibility of YouTubers is one of them for me.”
“Well, I’m not a YouTuber. I just play one on YouTube.” I gathered up my jacket and my messenger bag, locked the car, and walked the little gravel path through the backyard to my tiny in-law unit. “I’m home. But I’m super happy we talked.”
“I am too. Though I’m sad it was inspired by a lousy date with, uh, Pretentious Guy.”
“I’ll come up with a better stock photo description for him,” I promised. “So I guess...” It’s not like I wanted to get off the phone with them. But I did need to do stuff. Then again, I was probably just going to put on a movie. “Are you busy?”
“Not really. Finishing up work for the night.”
“Do you...um...have any interest in buddy watching something? I was going to put on a documentary about divers exploring a shipwreck. I mean, if you have Netflix. Or I could give you my login info. Or not! Totally feel free to say no. Just thought I’d throw it out there in case that sounded good to you.” I bit down on my lip and forced myself to continue going through the motions of a normal human just home from a date: hanging up my jacket, toeing out of my shoes, biting my lip so hard it hurt, gripping my phone so tightly my hand shook, you know, the usual.
“Oh. Um.”
Shit! “We don’t have to, no worries, forget I said anything.”
“No, that sounds... I mean, I’ve never done that before. But I’m up for trying.”
I explained buddy watching somewhat more enthusiastically than was necessary and Sidney agreed to give it a shot. By then I’d managed to splash water on my face and change my clothes, so I curled up in bed (and hoped they were also curled up in bed, though I didn’t want to be a creeper and ask).
I had way more fun during the hour and a half we spent watching a slightly out of sync documentary than I had the entire rest of the night. There was a lot of squealing (me) and exclaiming (them) variations on OH MY GOD DO YOU SEE THAT? and AHHHHH WHAT IF IT BREAKS? when the crew was hauling sunken treasures out of the wreck.
Intellectual chemistry: clearly a five. Not that anyone was counting. Because #sidlan was not a real thing. But just in case I ever needed to rate our intellectual chemistry, I felt very confident doing so. Five all the way down.
Chapter Eight
The weekend flew by, which was fantastic because my standing The Love Study date with Sidney was becoming the highlight of my week.
Not, obviously, that it was a real date. I meant date in the sense that we had a day we knew we’d spend time together. In a casual way. A mundane non-date way. Like you have a standing date with your therapist. Wait, no. More like you have a standing date with your personal trainer. Actually, that doesn’t work either.
Whatever. On Mondays after work I went to Sidney’s apartment and I looked forward to it the rest of the week.
For the third episode of the series I even managed to get there with ten whole minutes to spare. I could tell they were surprised because they seemed flustered to be interrupted in the middle of their setting-up process.
“You brought me chocolates?” They shook their head as if they were shaking something out of it, the way a little kid shakes a piggy bank. “I mean, us? Are we eating chocolate tonight?”
I brandished my fancy-looking-but-really-from-Grocery-Outlet chocolates. “For you! You said you were listening to that podcast and then I saw them and thought of you. Plus, you’re hosting, so technically I should bring a thing, right?”
They looked at me blankly. “I’ve only ever offered you a bottle of water.”
Oh my god, this was excruciating. I could feel my cheeks heating up. Starting the show with a playful gesture totally rebuffed. I’m not mortified, you’re mortified. “Do you not like chocolate?”
“I like dark chocolate.” They were standing very still, eyes on the box in my outstretched hand.
I sighed and tossed the box of chocolates on the kitchen shelf. “I got a mix. You can throw them away if you want, just do me a favor and wait till I leave.” Then I pushed through and busied myself fumbling around in my bag and perfectly piling my stuff in the usual place. Being late was apparently the key to not screwing up this whole thing. Good to know.