Third date syndrome
Third Date Syndrome. The phrase “third date syndrome” came… | by Olly Woodford
The phrase “third date syndrome” came out of my mouth the other day. It seemed like the perfect name for something I was explaining to a friend. Unsurprisingly, I’m not the first to coin this phrase — a google search for “third date syndrome” returns over 800 results. So it’s a thing.
What is it?
It’s that feeling you get, usually around the third date, that even though you haven’t ruled someone out, if you were to see them again that would effectively rule them in, and that’s not something you’re ready to do. It’s equally when you’re on the receiving end of that — after three perfectly good dates, you suddenly find yourself turned down, and there’s no obvious reason why.
Why does this happen?
In a word — expectations. Two expectations, in fact.
I’ve alluded to the first already. After each date, we often feel like the expectations of the other person about our commitment, and also our intimacy, are moving inexorably up some imaginary escalator of romance. We’re stood there together on this escalator, and at a certain point we feel like we’re higher than we want to be, and decide to parachute off. We’re afraid either of the expectations we’re not ready for, or of hurting the other person by not meeting them.
Sometimes it’s less about (our perceptions of) the other person’s expectations, and more about our own. In particular, an expectation about how the relationship should make us feel. “There has to be chemistry!”
Got chemistry?I’ve been besotted with people who felt the same way about me. It’s an amazing, wonderful, beautiful feeling.
But it has never lasted. In fact, I’ve never met anyone in a long term relationship who claimed it now felt like that either. It’s also a pretty high bar to expect from any future relationship. And one I’m not sure is reasonable.
What to do about it?
At a dinner once, a woman told me this:
“I dated a guy who on paper met all of the things I thought I was looking for in a partner, but it just didn’t feel like there was much chemistry.
Even so, I decided to keep seeing him. We’ve been together 10 years now, and we couldn’t be happier.”
And it’s a story I’ve heard more than once. Sometimes it’s the slow burners that turn into the hottest of fires.
The truth is that relationships are tough. That warm, fuzzy feeling you get at the start doesn’t last. So it shouldn’t be that important to have earth-shattering chemistry in the first instance. More meaningful feelings can develop in the longer term. What’s important is that there is admiration, respect, and care for the other person, and a commitment to make things work.
So try to free yourself of expectations. Dating doesn’t have to progress all the time — be content to let it plateau for a while, and see if it moves itself on naturally. Be open to dating several people at once, and be clear you’re doing this; it helps keep things casual. If someone pushes to move things along, be open about how you feel and where you’re at, and let them make a decision for themselves.
That’s not for everyone, or indeed for most people. If you find it easier said than done, then change the way you date. In fact, don’t date. Stop swiping for love! Hang out with people socially — it’s an agenda and expectation free environment. With the pressure off, there’s that much more room for feelings to grow.
Please clap if you enjoyed reading this. And if you’d like to read more from me on this subject, check out Why I stopped swiping for love.
We Need To Talk About 'The Third Date Shift'
Let's go back in time, sweet kittens, to when 28-year-old Zara had just moved back to the big, bad island of Manhattan and was super single and ready to mingle. And to when she learned about the epic third date shift.
I had recently moved back to glittering New York from humid, flat AF Florida, where I had been relatively dateless (and sexless) for the better part of a year. Truth be told, it was probably even longer, but I'm not trying to remember how long that depressing bout of celibacy was.
I hadn't dated in so long, I had forgotten how the whole dating charade even worked. I had gotten used to exclusively dating myself (and my rose gold vibrator).
I was quickly becoming one of those old Upper East Side prototypes who sits by herself at elderly Park Avenue lady restaurants and nurses her $14 glass of sauvignon blanc for two hours, whilst devouring a W magazine in a slutty sheer dress. That was my life for a minute, and it was fun while it lasted. But I was finally back in the glorious city that made me and girl; I was ready to get down and dirty with the fierce New York City lesbians.
I got on Tinder, because I enjoyed the low-pressure frivolity and superficiality of it. I got on OkCupid, because I'm an older millennial like that. I might have even had a brief stint on Bumble (but quickly got off because all those girls were way too sorority "Alpha Beta Whatever" for me). Maybe I even went on Hinge for a second or two, because I like the occasional Ivy League lesbian.
I'm pretty sure I met the first girl on Tinder, because I'm a pretty talented Tinder slayer after a few personality drinks are consumed.
We met at a cool Downtown speakeasy-style bar that had glittery cocktail tables and beautiful model-esque waitresses and $32 appetizers about the size of three whole almonds. I wore a backless black leotard and lace stockings and a short tulle skirt, because I like my women to know that I'm a shameless freak right off the bat (I was also in a big Black Swan fashion phase). The girl in question had blue eyes and a direct gaze and a stylish haircut. She smelled expensive. I smelled expensive.
And that's about as far as I got. Because that's the thing with first dates. You can hardly focus on a first date because all you're doing is thinking about yourself. Let me break it down for you:
Date 1: It's all about ME.
As a woman with massive cleavage and big chandelier earrings brought me over my date's table, I kept thinking, "SHIT, do I hug her? Do I shake her hand? What do I DO to greet her? OMG, I HAVEN'T DONE THIS IS SO LONG.
"
Can you see a theme here? You can, can't you? For those of you who can't, it's all about ME.
There is no "I" in team, so it was impossible for me to gauge my chemistry levels with her because I was so self-conscious and obsessed with myself throughout all of date one. I was sick with a classic case of first-date narcissism.
Is MY outfit OK? Did I reveal too much when she asked me about MY childhood? Is she attracted to ME? I wonder how she feels about ME? Is MY lipstick OK? Did I answer that question clever or weird? How is MY hair? I wonder if she's Googled ME and read MY most recent article about being hopelessly SAD?
The entirety of the first date was one massive, rapid-fire list of questions directed toward myself. After the date I hopped into the taxi and as I gazed at the snow falling onto the sidewalks, I felt my phone vibrate.
"Zara, how was your DATE?" my darling mother purred, sounding slightly sloshed. She was at an uptown restaurant catching up with one of her "mates" from her wild London youth and I sensed that they were feeling once again young and wild by her slurred words.
How was my date? I didn't know. "Why didn't you know, Zara?" Because I was stuck in the vortex of the first date self-obsession. I hadn't even paid attention to her, I was so sorely shy and massively self-conscious.
Date 2: It's all about HER.
So I agreed to a second date. I did like staring into this girl's shiny bright blue eyes and she had style and seemed to have a little smattering of substance somewhere beneath her vegan leather bomber jacket. So the next date we went to dinner at my favorite restaurant on Park Ave South, a gorgeous place with double high ceilings called Barbounia.
For the second date, I was far less fixated on myself, because I wanted to see if I liked this girl. And I fell into the rabbit hole of fascination with this mystical creature. I did what every nice young Jewish lesbian does on a second date and I grilled her with a gazillion and then some personal questions.
"Where are YOU from? What the hell do YOU do? What's YOUR favorite thing to eat? When did YOUR parents get a divorce? How fucked up are YOU?"
And I deeply listened to her answers as if her words carried the key to the great mysteries of the world.
I learned that she hailed from glam Long Island, her parents divorced when she was sixteen and her screwed-up phase was when she was 17 when she had a brief flirtation with an eating disorder (OMG, me too! But let me hear YOUR story 'cause tonight ain't about me, honey). All I did was laser focus my energy on HER.
The date ended. She paid the bill. I felt like a therapist who was being paid in shellfish.
As I walked four miles back uptown to my little six-story walk-up apartment I thought about HER. But I still couldn't grasp if I liked her or not. Because I was so curious in figuring out who she was, I hadn't let myself feel any chemistry.
Date 3: The epic third date shift
"Oh you're going on the third date?" my co-worker asked me during a lipstick bathroom break. She painted her pout with bright red lacquer and blankly gazed at her own reflection with big hazel eyes.
"That's when the great shift happens," she said, clicking on her heels like Dorothy in the "Wizard Of Oz" and strutting out of there before I could even ask what the hell she meant by "third date shift.
"
But I went on the third date. This time I met her right after work and was in a very tame costume -- a black cut-out onesie and violet lipstick. I wasn't as goddamn anxious as I had been before. I was ready to chat. I was ready to let myself feel. I was ready for the butterflies to penetrate my body.
We met at an underground cocktail bar, the kind of pretentious place that refers to bartenders as "mixologists" and pours egg whites into alcoholic drinks. And suddenly I knew what my co-worker meant by the "third date shift."
I wasn't teeming with social anxiety because I already had spent one date doing that and I had spent another date listening to her story. I felt my normally tense shoulders drop. I was able to be present with the blue-eyed babe, able to get lost in the heat of the moment. I realized at the end of dinner, when she went in for the kiss kill that I liked her but I didn't feel wildly compelled to graze her lips against mine.
And now I've realized in every person I've dated since, there is always a drastic shift on the third date.
The third date is when you stop projecting your own shit onto the other person and get a little more, dare I say, real. It's when you decide -- if you want a fourth date, if you want to be friends, if you're frighteningly into him or her or if you just want to grab your bag, run for the Hollywood Hills and never see their twisted faces again.
So the moral of the story is this: Give it three dates. Because the first date is all about you, the second date is all about them and the third date is when you feel the great shift in energy. You will know if you want a fourth date and when you venture into the fourth date, you're blazing into new, unchartered territory.
Because when you go on the fourth date, that's when you're kinda "dating." I know it's scary stuff for me too, but four dates deep is something. You're no longer strangers. Oh and you should totally have sex on date four. But we will save that theory for another article.
why it is so important and what to expect from it
Getting to the third date is a feat at a time when every second person has Tinder on their smartphone.
You seem to really like each other! But what to do in order not to spoil this meeting, and why exactly is it so important?
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Love and relationships
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Date Ideas
Relationship
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So, the answer to the question "Will there be a third date?" affirmative. Few people know, but in fact this is an excellent result - it is during this meeting that it will become clear how your relationship will develop further. Experts told what to talk about on a third date and why it is so important.
Why should a third date be taken seriously?
If you are looking for a life partner, not a one-night stand, then a lot can depend on how the third meeting goes.
Dating and relationship expert and founder of Love Quest Coaching Lisa Concepción explains that this is when attraction and interest kicks in and your relationship can move into the physical. There was no kiss on the third date? In vain! Now is the time to check if there is chemistry between you!
A man does not write after the third date, disappeared in all instant messengers and does not pick up the phone? Well, relax and open Tinder. It was the moment, explains Concepción, when people decide whether to continue the relationship, and your boyfriend, apparently, decided that it was not worth it. But don't worry: there will be someone else. Sometimes people are incompatible, and there is nothing wrong if he understood this before you. Tell the guy thanks: he saved time for both of you.
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Dating mentor Alexis Wolf supports the idea that the third date is the defining moment when people decide if they want to continue dating.
"Often after the first two dates, we're still unsure about the other person, but it's the third date that somehow seals the deal," she says.
This view is shared by dating and relationship expert Erika Kramer: “A person is already thinking about whether you will fit into his life, whether he is ready to introduce you to friends and whether he wants to know better. On the third date, people try to understand each other on a deeper level and evaluate if they have common interests, values, and beliefs."
What to expect from the third date?
The third date is the perfect moment to admit what you're both up to. Of course, it is still too early to discuss the names of the children and the terms of the mortgage. But it definitely doesn't hurt to clarify if the guy is looking for a permanent relationship or if he's in the mood for something more fleeting.
According to Concepción, on the third date it is equally important to draw boundaries.
If you have a list of items that are important when choosing a partner, then you should start asking questions right now. For example, if you are a convinced childfree, it's time to find out if the boyfriend is dreaming of four sons and a sweet daughter. “It is on this date that you should discuss life goals and find out if you are on the same wavelength or are going in very important directions,” says Lisa.
Third date sex: is it worth it?
Many people believe that the time for sex comes just after the third date, and therefore they are looking forward to it. It is already obvious that you are interested in each other, find each other attractive, and if so, then why pull? There is truth in this: if you have reached the third meeting, then we are talking about mutual sympathy, which helped to go through the first stages of acquaintance and grinding. However, there is no need to rush.
Wolfe believes that you should not fall under the magic of numbers and follow the rule "The third meeting should end in bed.
" “Maybe you are ready for this. Maybe you go on a date with the certainty that you will have sex, but then change your mind. Listen to your intuition and do what you feel comfortable with,” she says.
Rules for the third date
There are two main rules for the third date. First: be yourself! In general, it is tedious and pointless to portray someone else. And if you met a guy for the first time in full dress, but in fact you prefer to wear sneakers, hate stilettos and rarely do makeup, it's time to spend time the way you feel comfortable. “Being authentic is the key to building a solid foundation for a sustainable relationship,” Kramer says. If you are thinking about how to behave on a third date, then the answer is simple: the way you like it.
Second rule: ask important questions. On the first date, you tested the ground, on the second, you found out how well you had the first time and whether there is a chance that you will be even more fun and comfortable together, but the third meeting is the time for meaningful conversations.
“Listen carefully to the answers. Don't make what you say fit what you want to hear. Determine if a person is really worth spending time on, ”Kramer says. And, of course, do not forget about intuition: do not be afraid to admit to yourself that something is going wrong.
How to have a third date?
So the third date could be a turning point. And because what you do can make all the difference. Kramer offers several options for a third meeting.
- Meet in a public place: go to a concert or go for a walk in the park. So you will get an idea of how a person interacts with the world around him: talking to strangers or reacting when someone pushes him.
- Have an active date: go bowling or take a short hike. This is a great way to see what kind of physical shape a person is in and how he behaves in a situation of competition or the need to work in a team.
- Choose an intelligent way to spend your time: go to a museum or go on a quest.
Both of you will have to use critical thinking and have complex conversations. See how a person interprets art, solves puzzles, or reacts to stress - it will tell a lot about him.
And when the date is over, decide if the guy is really right for you. If, according to the results of the third meeting, it still seems that yes, then perhaps you really have excellent chances for a relationship!
Do you date?
Read online The Bride on the contrary. First Date Syndrome”, Veronika Lesnevskaya – Litres
Prologue
“Tell me your real name,” I whisper into the impenetrable darkness and I myself get frightened of my own voice, it trembles so much. I swallow nervously, trying to see at least the silhouette.
Everything is pitch dark. I can only guess who is sitting across from me now. A person whom I have never seen in my life, about whom I know absolutely nothing and whom I will part with this very evening.
We are separated by a small round table, and in addition to it there is a whole abyss of dogmas and moral norms.
– Are names important, Angel, when it comes to feelings? - a deep velvety voice is heard, and for the hundredth time I scold myself for the too transparent nickname indicated on the dating site.
My true identity cannot be revealed. I run the risk of being exposed every time I go on another date.
But what will you do for the sake of the purpose of your life ...
- Are the police looking for you? – emboldened, I sarcastically pronounce. Why are you hiding your face? What are you afraid of?
– Do you think I should be afraid of the two of us now? he laughs hoarsely, evoking vague memories in me, which I immediately push away.
I shudder, feeling a light touch of someone else's fingers on the back of my hand. I try to force myself to withdraw my hand, but I can't. Too warm and exciting.
The man is clearly pleased with such humility, he grabs my hand more boldly and brings it to his lips.
I feel his breath on my skin and a weightless kiss.
– Do you like to play? I try to speak evenly and naturally, but my voice breaks.
– And you? he retorts.
A second later, I hear rustling in the darkness, followed by the sound of approaching footsteps. I involuntarily turn in the same direction and feel the chaotic wanderings of burning palms over my shoulders, neck and face. Male fingers find my chin and grip it tightly, fixing it securely.
- And how far are you willing to go in this game? Will exhales against my lips.
Feelings are aggravated to the limit, and it seems that the air around is heating up. I get really hot. Hot from the inside.
Just a chaste touch from a man I don't know makes my heart skip a beat. Yes, what's wrong with me!
I completely lose my mind when I feel someone else's lips gently touch mine. The man is in no hurry and does not insist, as if we have not one evening, but a whole life ahead.
Kissing back because for the first time in a long time I really want to. The darkness around is to blame for everything: it climbed into my soul, discrediting it.
Emboldened, I stretch out my arms to the stranger, rest against his stone chest, casually feeling strong muscles, and slide higher, until I finally stop on rough cheeks. I try to determine the features of an unfamiliar face, as the blind do, but in vain.
The only thing I achieve with my impulsive impulse is that the man suddenly deepens the kiss. Then he puts his hands on my waist and pulls me so sharply that I move along with the chair, hearing the nasty creak of wooden legs on the floor.
Force myself to stop this madness immediately. I push him away and jump to my feet.
Unable to get a word out of me, I just leave, clicking my heels loudly and lighting my way with the screen of my smartphone, which I wisely did not give to the waiter.
I don't turn around on purpose, struggling with my last strength against a burning desire to find out what the stranger looked like who managed to awaken forbidden feelings in me.
We will never meet again. This was our first and last date.
First date. Chapter 1
Two weeks ago
Angelina
Today I am more punctual than ever. And let them say that a decent girl should be late for a meeting with a man, but this is not my story. I planned to be too correct, for the purity of the experiment. My goal is not to scare away the gentleman, but to arrange. But his task is to try to reach the second date. True, he does not even know about it ...
Exactly at 20:00, not a minute later, Bugay finally appeared. And this is not a characteristic at all, but only a nickname on a dating site. And, by the way, it does not correspond to the "original" at all.
A lanky, wizened guy in gray trousers and a slightly rumpled button-down shirt. When he saw me, he was clearly at a loss, adjusted his glasses on the bridge of his nose with a trembling finger, and silently sat opposite me, coughing.
– Hi, my name is Lina.
And you? - she said with a smile to reduce tension, but it seems that my today's gentleman was even more embarrassed.
“Yasha,” he said after a pause, and I even breathed a sigh of relief.
“Nice to meet you,” she extended her hand across the table to him, but it hung in the air.
Yakov looked somewhere behind my back and suddenly stood up. I turned around in bewilderment and saw that an overweight woman, by the appearance of my mother's age, was heading straight towards us. Bleached hair was pulled back in a tight bun, a strict black dress fitted all the "charms", gray eyes looked with a squint, and her lips curved into a half smile.
“Yasha, dear, I was just passing by,” she sang, not realizing that her lie was too noticeable. - Who is this lovely girl? - and, having waited until Yakov would move his chair, she sat down at the table with difficulty, scanning me with an analyzing look.
I looked at Jacob in bewilderment and, raising an eyebrow, slightly shook my head.
The guy was confused again, it seems that it has become a habit with him, but our guest immediately intervened in the conversation.
“My name is Sofya Matveevna,” she smiled with only the corners of her lips, as if doing a favor. And I'm the mother of this boy.
The "boy" coughed, but couldn't say anything, and instead just sat down at the table, studying the menu.
- Nice to meet you. I’m Lina,” I answered thoughtfully, waiting with some sick interest to see what would happen next.
But at that moment a waiter came up, distracting us from the conversation. In turn, the gentleman looked at me gallantly, allowing me to be the first to place an order, which earned him a significant plus in his piggy bank. However, as soon as I opened my mouth, Sofya Matveevna seized the initiative.
“Vegetable salad, boiled potatoes and still water,” she rapped out and added. “It’s the same for my son,” she said sternly, and then looked inquiringly at me.
– And I… the same thing, – I swallowed and squeezed out of myself, but still couldn’t resist.
“Only orange juice instead of water.”
The waiter hurried to leave us, and Sofya Matveevna gave me a disapproving look, as if I had just declared war on her.
“Juice is pure chemicals and concentrates,” she said, wincing, and at that moment she reminded me so much of my own mother that I even shivered and looked around warily.
She also tries to keep the whole family under control, and even interferes in my personal life. It's definitely time to get out from under her care, otherwise I risk becoming like poor Yasha. And I have a plan to "escape", however ... To do this, you need to squeeze the maximum out of today's date. However, as well as from others, throughout the entire probationary period...
“Yakov, tell us about yourself,” I smiled at the guy, which again outraged his mother.
“Yasha is our future nuclear physicist,” she answered with pride in her voice instead of her son. - Do you get an education? she chuckled incredulously.
“Yes, higher,” I said shortly, not wanting to go into details.
– Specialty? Who are your parents? She started bombarding me with questions. - How many years?
And she did not fail to glimpse me again with an attentive look, as if she was evaluating the goods in a store. I involuntarily straightened my hair gathered at the temples, brushed an invisible fluff from my face, which was practically untouched by makeup, ran my hands over the strict milk-colored dress. And mentally made sure that I look pretty decent.
I thought about how I should answer Sofya Matveevna's questions, and whether I should do it at all, but my torment was interrupted by the returning waiter. He quickly set plates of vegetables and drinks in front of us, and then instantly retreated to another table.
In order to divert the attention of an obsessive parent from herself, I picked up a glass of juice, pretending that I was suddenly tormented by thirst. Just not to talk...
– And the main question. Are you a girl? Sofya Matveevna issued through a sly smile.
At her words, I choked and coughed angrily, and meanwhile the gentleman, together with maman, calmly waited for me to stop or ... die right at the table.
“Well, obviously not a boy,” I joked hoarsely, wiping the tears in my eyes with a napkin.
“Yasha needs an innocent bride,” she continued to develop the theme. “Therefore, we must know in advance so as not to waste time,” her tone began to annoy me.
I wonder if she also plans to be present on her wedding night? How else can she be sure? Or will she need to provide a sheet with traces of purity? She shuddered involuntarily at these thoughts and mentally felt sorry for her future daughter-in-law, if she appeared at all.
– Are we talking about marriage? It's the first date! I recalled with a smile.
- So I knew, another frivolous girl. Who else can you find on the internet? - Rolling her eyes, my failed mother-in-law said and got up from the table. “You don’t suit us,” she said in such a tone as if I had come for an interview with her.
And then she tugged at her son's sleeve, tearing him away from concentrated eating and forcing him to stand up.
“Mom, I didn’t finish my meal,” Yakov finally spoke up, and I grinned.
At least he tried to show some character. However, it didn't last long.
“I’ll feed you at home, Yasha,” Sofya Matveevna said solicitously, as if she were addressing a five-year-old. - We are leaving.
Finally gave me a reproachful look and headed for the exit, pulling her downcast son with her. It was at that moment that the thought dawned on me that Sofya Matveevna had arranged a meeting with me: Yakov and I were only texting. The danger of Internet communication is that you never know who is sitting on the other side of the monitor ...
I waited for the restaurant door to close behind them, then lowered my head in exhaustion, covering my face with my hands. After a couple of seconds, the hall was filled with my hysterical laughter.
These blind dates are driving me crazy! But the material is great! We can assume that the column for the next issue is ready.
Then it's a matter of technique: hide the names, omit the details and arrange everything artistically. And, it seems, a psychologist's comment would not hurt...
Having immersed herself in the future article, she got up from the table, but caught herself in time, glancing at the left mobile. She brushed her finger across the display, pressed the stop button on the built-in voice recorder, and hid the phone in her purse.
I was about to leave when a waiter hurriedly approached me, holding out a bill. She sighed, rolling her eyes: I'm not good enough for Yasha, but I just fit in to pay for his dinner.
Great! Now I risk not making it to the next scholarship, and once again I would not want to ask my mother for money. It's time to get accustomed to independence, since I started all this adventure...
Mentally "thanked" Sofya Matveevna for her "diet" and, having paid, fluttered out into the street.
An autumn cold wind bitingly hit my face, instantly disheveled my hair, playing with curls.
I feverishly bundled up in a coat and, clattering with thin stilettos on the pavement, wet after the rain, went to the taxi stand.
I accidentally stepped on the curb, the heel jumped off its edge, and I could hardly keep my balance so as not to fall. However, she managed to twist her leg. Literally out of the blue! A nasty pain slowly flowed from the heel up, making me wince. She took a step, and then could not stand it - and bent down, massaging her bruised limb with her hand.
Out of the corner of my eye I noticed some movement in the darkness on the opposite side of the road. Out of habit, she reached for her purse, where, in addition to cute female things, there was always a flashlight-stun gun. I am prepared, armed and dangerous, because it’s not the first time I’ve been left without a date after a date ... If you think about it, it sounds like a topic for a separate article ... and high growth. I looked around and realized with horror that there was practically not a soul on the street except for us.
Only a lone taxi in which I hoped to find a driver. Otherwise, I risked not getting home ...
As soon as the gloomy figure took a couple of steps towards me, panic clutched my throat with claws, making it difficult to breathe evenly. I straightened up surprisingly easily and quickly, forgetting about the pain in my leg, and walked to the taxi, though with a slight limp. Only by hiding in the passenger compartment of the car, she was able to calm the trembling in her whole body.
She gave the taxi driver the address and, still not completely overcoming her fear, turned around warily, peering through the misted glass. The man stood still, his hands in his pockets, as if making sure I left. Strange…
“All my fears are from overwork and a double life,” I decided, and leaned back in my seat, trying to relax. But the frightening silhouette never left her mind...
Chapter 2
Once in the apartment, she gently opened the door, intending to quietly slip into her room.
She took a couple of steps, groping her way, but tripped over a chair left in the hallway. At that moment, I was blinded by a flash of light.
“Hi, midnight owl,” a mocking voice was heard. "Did you think you'd get rid of me that easily?" I'm waiting for the details!
Having got used to the bright light, she looked with a smile at the bitchy-looking blonde, who had all the extensions possible. Nails, hair, eyelashes, Botox-filled lips... Everything, except for her breasts, but she was determined to enlarge them too, only there wasn't enough money yet... man, and behind a daring mask hid unfulfilled hopes and complexes.
“I’m tired,” I gasped, realizing in my heart that this was no excuse for my friend. - I'll tell you tomorrow. Or you can read it in the latest issue,” she winked at her and tried to run into the room.
“Everyone stay where you are,” she snapped jokingly. I don't read men's magazines. In addition, it is described in a veiled and not realistic enough.
And no details. No, I want to know everything from the source! Chris defiantly picked up a chair, which she probably herself had left in the aisle as a trap, and carried it to the kitchen, gesturing me to follow her with her eyes.
Knowing that resistance is useless, she sighed and trudged along.
Kristina and I studied on the same course and rented an apartment together to live closer to the university. So I spent most of my time here, and only met my parents on the weekends.
The relative freedom from my mother's all-seeing eye is what allowed me to get involved in the dating experiment. No, I'm not looking for love, I drank it in full this summer ... On the contrary, I'm trying to help others find and win their soul mate. For several weeks I have been doing an internship in a men's magazine, leading the column "First Date Syndrome". From personal experience, I find out what mistakes the representatives of the stronger sex make when communicating with girls and why the first meeting often becomes the last.
The object of the research is simple to the point of banality: men who are looking for their destiny on a dating site. Frankly, so far I have come across some rather strange specimens. But then the articles came out bright and revealing. At the very least, I could definitely tell male readers what NOT to do when meeting a girl.
- Well, what story did your rubric add to? Or did you get the right guy this time? Christina playfully played with her dyed eyebrows.
“Nothing,” I chuckled and continued more seriously. “So, Chris, first of all, I actually have a fiancé,” the friend grimaced at these words, sticking out her tongue. – And secondly... It seems that everything is completely neglected on these dating sites...
Emotionally and in person, she began to tell her about her next failed date, getting more and more into a rage. If you think about it, it’s even good that Chris forced me to voice everything: it will be easier to write an article after I have put the information and impressions into order in my head.
Ten minutes later my friend and I were laughing out loud, almost to the point of tears.
“You should listen to your parents and go into science,” Christina suddenly declared laughing. - You're doing bullshit.
“You are wrong,” I protested. - I always wanted to become a journalist, not a professor, but no one in my family listened to my opinion. I went with the flow, and only recently I realized that life is one and you should not spend it on an unloved job,” I quoted an absolutely reckless man whom I met on vacation in Thailand this summer. And who managed to change something in me...
“You are different after the summer holidays…” Chris drawled thoughtfully.
– Yes, and now I firmly decided to fulfill my dream, not thanks, but in spite of… – I agreed. “This strange rubric is just the first rung on the career ladder,” my index finger shot up. - First you need to gain experience, and a popular men's magazine will be a good start. It has branches all over the country! I will show myself, and then I will be entrusted with more serious topics.
I was lucky that they took me at all, a second-year student and without a diploma!
"Not yet," Chris snorted. - They just use it. You write articles, count them for free, and wait for manna from heaven…
I frowned, glancing at my friend who was too harsh in her statements.
Indeed, I was on probation at the editorial office of the magazine, but if my column "First Date Syndrome" becomes popular, then I will get the job of my dreams. I will start earning stable money and finally be able to become independent from my parents…
However, no “ifs”! As one incredibly irresponsible guy from my past said, it's up to me if my dreams come true...
“I’ll get my way anyway,” I grunted, and then confidently headed to my room.
***
I climb into bed, warming it with my warmth. Before going to bed, out of habit, I check my email and set an alarm on my phone.
Can't sleep, Angel? - a pop-up message flashes on the display, and I know exactly which site it is from .
.. After a moment, I just block the mobile and put it on the bedside table.
“Not today, dear, but I will definitely put you in line for a date,” I mentally turn to an Internet stranger and burrow into a blanket ...
Chapter 3
The scary word "weekend". To me it sounded like the jingling of shackles that wrapped around the ankles and mercilessly pulled down into the abyss. Despair, hopelessness and humility are my reliable companions during these days. I consoled myself with the fact that everything is temporary, but sometimes my faith was shaken, and there was no one to support me. A stranger among her own…
A pencil skirt just below the knee and a dark brown jacket, just to match her hair, styled in an intricate hairstyle. Today I am different. The way my family used to see me. The one that wants to make me ... he.
Almost…
– Where is that chic dress that your fiancé gave you? – caustically held out Chris, breaking into my room. “Ah, perhaps this rag? - She went to the closet, picked up the black fabric from the hanger with her fingers and applied it to herself.
“Chris, stop teasing me,” I giggled. “Normal dress, this color just doesn’t suit me,” she waved it off casually, but she was cunning.
The outfit was generally good, only a size smaller than I wear. I think the groom specifically chose this one to once again hint at the need for me to follow a diet. And no, I was by no means obese. On the contrary, she was thin for her average height, and against the general background, her hips and chest stood out favorably. At the same time, I was far from the miniature Thai girls that he used to see.
I glanced at Chris: now she would suit my fiancé's selective taste. Fragile, small. Definitely his type, only too bright and defiant, but it can be fixed...
As if looking into my thoughts, my friend took off her dressing gown and pulled on her dress in one fell swoop. Intense black fabric tightly fitted her figure, repeating every curve, slightly opened the neckline from above, and reached her knees below. It looked nice overall, and Chris definitely went with that style.
“Too bad,” she grunted, looking at herself in the mirror. - Great color. It just suits your mournful expression now, - she winked at me in the reflection, and I could not help smiling kindly.
Turning around in front of the mirror, Chris took a couple of steps back, and then abruptly flopped onto the bed, and immediately a characteristic crack of fabric was heard throughout the room.
“Oops,” squealed her friend, covering her side with her hand, where the dress had parted along the seam. – I'm sorry...
I peered into her guilty face and burst out laughing. Chris breathed a sigh of relief and followed my example, laughing loudly.
“Unhappy dress,” I shrugged.
– Not a gift from the heart, – blurted out a friend, but instantly covered her mouth with her hand, and then, jumping up, silently ran away to change clothes.
Frightened that I would be offended? However, I only grunted indifferently, because I clearly knew that my fiancé did not have tender feelings for me, and it was mutual.
We had a purely business relationship, however, he did not suspect that I did not plan to go to the end ...
My thoughts were interrupted by the persistent ringtone of the mobile. She looked at the display, paying attention to the time along the way, and sighed doomedly.
“I’ve been waiting for you for two minutes now,” instead of a greeting, the receiver sounded.
I rolled my eyes and nodded, but, realizing that the fiancé couldn't see me now, she murmured “uh-huh,” immediately disconnecting. She hurriedly gathered herself and, picking up her purse, headed for the exit.
I couldn't go fast even if I wanted to: my leg still bothered me after the enchanting end of the last, God forbid, not the last meeting. In light of everything that has happened, you will involuntarily become superstitious...
Every step down the stairs gave off a nagging pain in my ankle. If this continues, you will need to see a doctor. With difficulty I went down and, once in the yard, I immediately saw a familiar car.
And beside her, with his hands folded on his narrow chest and his faded eyes screwed up, stood my fiancé with a frown on his face. Noticing me, he shook his rust-colored hair, and straightened up, but did not go towards me, so I had to hobble myself.
At the same moment, a friend who came from nowhere flew at me from behind. At first she forced her to almost lose her balance, and then she hugged her and carefully brought her to the car, passing her into the hands of the groom, although he was in no hurry to accept.
- Salute, Leo! Chris called out to him exaggeratedly defiantly as she left me. “Rrr,” she growled maliciously, exposing her extended nails, and, without waiting for an answer, walked with a model gait towards the bus stop.
A friend disliked my fiancé from the first meeting, which took place not so long ago: Leo has been in Russia for a little over a week. But all this time, Chris did not miss the opportunity to criticize him, but now she has crossed all boundaries! I'll have to talk to her so that she behaves more restrained in the future.
