How to Be Single by Liz Tuccillo Page A

bothered Alice one bit. She had been out there and that was the name of the game. Jim was an electrical engineer from New Jersey. He was thirty-seven, and from his emails, seemed to be intelligent and friendly. They were going to meet at a small bar in Noho where Alice took all her first dates. It’s a tiny, dark, Turkish wine bar with beaded velvet lamps and overstuffed couches. If you can’t manage to muster some kind of romantic connection in this place, with its dim lighting, and huge goblets of red wine, then it isn’t going to happen anywhere.
    As Alice walked to the bar, she thought about the countless dates she had been on this year. She thought about all the men she had met, and wondered why none of them had been the guy for her. There had been a few tiny relationships, a couple of affairs, but for the most part none of these men were guys that she wanted to spend time with. She wondered briefly if this numbers game was really working for her. She was certainly meeting a lot of men, but maybe by increasing her odds, all she was doing was increasing the odds of just meeting guys that she wasn’t attracted to. Maybe love is so special, so magical, that it has nothing to do with numbers. Maybe it’s just destiny and luck. And destiny and luck have no need for odds. Up until that moment, Alice always thought she believed in the odds, in math. But looking back on the past year, it gave her pause. All those men…A wave of exhaustion shimmered over her. She shook it off, and put on her prettiest smile, ran her fingers through her hair, and walked into the bar.
    Alice looked around and saw a man sitting on one of the sofas and seeming to be waiting for someone. He was approaching cuteness, but was not actually someone you would say was cute; a little too pasty, a little too soft in the face.
    She walked up to him and asked, “Are you Jim?” He immediately stood up and put out his hand and smiled a warm, open smile.
    â€œAlice, so nice to meet you.”
    She could tell immediately that he was a good man.
    They began to talk about the things people talk about on first dates: jobs, family, apartments, where they went to school. But as they talked, as is the case with all first dates, only 70 percent of their brains was talking, listening, and responding to what the other was saying. The other 30 percent was wondering, Do I want to kiss this person? Do I want to have sex with this person? What would my friends think of this person? Jim asked Alice a lot of questions about herself, in the way that sweet men do when they really like you. As Alice told her stories and laughed at his almost funny jokes, she could tell from the way he looked at her that he found her adorable.
    â€œWhat do you mean, you have a trick that makes you able to hear yourself snoring?” he asked, already laughing at her very personal admission.
    â€œSeriously, if you can remember, right before the moment you actually wake up, to make sure you don’t alter your breathing—like you almost pretend you’re still sleeping, but you’re actually awake—you can catch yourself snoring.”
    Jim just looked at Alice, shook his head, and laughed. He was completely smitten with her. Now this wasn’t a new event for sexy, redheaded Alice. Men found her adorable all the time. But because of her usual take-no-prisoners approach to dating, if Alice didn’t return the sentiment, only 25 percent of her brain was listening to the man, and 75 percent of her brain had paid the check, caught a cab home, and was now watching Seinfeld reruns. If she was interested in the guy as well, then Alice would work as hard as she could to be even more adorable while looking as if she was not trying to be anything but herself. But tonight, she was just allowing herself the enjoyment of being admired by someone. And it felt warm. Relaxing. She started getting tingly and buzzed from her second glass of wine, but she was