Dealbreakers & Pep Talks

"I used to have a lot of stupid dealbreakers."

The car is split. Half of us are dating someone exclusively. The other half  of us are single. It's nice to have a conversation with people who are in couples, if for no other reason than it's reassuring to hear that everything isn't all rainbows and ponies once you pair off with someone. It's also nice to have a single representative of the XY crowd to get some feedback on the Loop of Craziness that's been going on in my head lately.

"What constitutes a dealbreaker these days?"

"I can't date someone who doesn't read." 

"What if they consume their knowledge in other ways? Documentaries, audiobooks, podcasts?"

"Audiobooks are permissible. But they have to be books in some capacity. I'm going to finish somewhere between fifty and seventy-five books this year. If I can't talk to my boyfriend about what I'm reading, we aren't going to get far." I pause. "I also want to know that he'll get it, on some level, when he wakes up in the middle of the might and finds me curled up in an armchair crying over a book."

"Anything else?"

"Oh, yeah. Kids from a previous relationship. Zero professional motivation." 

"Those aren't stupid dealbreakers, Kels."

"Well, that's because I decided I needed to stop looking for reasons to dislike people. I started to wonder what I was missing out on." I smile. "And it seems to be working, 'cause I have a date that I'm actually excited about next week."

"Attagirl." 

***

"Would it be all right if I told you some of the non-serial killer things concerning me?"

"Yeah. That's fine. I'm listening."

Michelle and I are having a pre-first date pep talk.

"Number one."

"There's a list?"

"Yes. Shut up. Number one: I don't remember how to kiss someone. Number two: I don't know when, you know, after you start dating someone it's all right to start having sex. Number three: I'm worried he's secretly gained 180 pounds and hasn't updated his profile pictures and I'm not going to be attacted to him. Number four: I'm afraid number three makes me shallow. Number five: I'm worried we've texted and emailed everything we could possibly say to one another and we're just going to be awkward. Number six: I don't know when to disclose, um, things like preferences and the OCD."

"Uh. Okay. Where do you want me to start."

"IT'S A LIST."

"Okay, okay. With number one . . ."

I interrupt her immediately. "I'm also worried he's a serial killer."

***

"Are there other stories that have stayed with you? You said Sandman and American Gods. You like to read, what else?"

We're about two hours into a conversation I didn't expect to last more than fifteen minutes and I'm so pleased by the question that I clap my hands and pull my chair in closer to the table. I flip my clutch over and the front is a reproduction of an out of print cover of The Great Gatsby. "I reread Gatsby every year. It has this line I love from it. Well. It has a lot of lines I really love in it." 

"Can you tell me any of them?"

I pause, considering. "Reserving judgement is a matter of infinite hope."