She could drive one town over to Elmira and go to the movies, or drive over to Corning and visit the glass museum. But how many times could a person go to a glass museum, even if it is very, very good? It was a finite number. She was sure.
It had recently occurred to her that a woman who is an office assistant at a meatpacking plant in a town named Horseheads at age thirty-eight really can’t be picky at all. She was lucky Charlie even wrote her back. So the date was set; it would be cocktails and conversation. And that would be that. If they “clicked,” it could become more. If not, then nothing much would be lost but another evening of her life.
As the date grew nearer for Estelle and Charlie, the self-described Ugly Man, to meet, Estelle became more nervous. What would she do if he had been in one of those car accidents that rearrange your face so you look like a Picasso painting? What if he had a hunchback? What if he was covered in boils, or had acne pits so deepthat you could fit a fingertip inside them? She pondered how she would politely extricate herself from such a person, and what sort of person it would make her if she did—just fled like that.
“I am so excited to meet you,” wrote Charlie, two days before the evening of their date. Estelle felt a chill run down her spine. It wasn’t the good kind of chill, the excited and slightly nervous romantic sort, but the other sort, the kind you get when you know you are soon to have oral surgery and it could necessitate some sort of large metal instruments sawing away inside your mouth. “I am excited, too,” she wrote back.
She was becoming a liar. The Ugly Man was making her one.
One evening before the date, which was set for seven o’clock at the Black Bay Tavern in a neighboring town, Estelle saw she had a message on Loveforreals.com. It was from someone with the screen name “Handsomeguy345.”
What are the chances
, she thought,
that someone screen-named “Handsomeguy345” would e-mail you just as you are about to meet an ugly man?
It was a million to one, perhaps. It was like winning a lottery. That rare. But without the money, of course.
“Like your profile,” wrote the handsome man. “Wanna chat?”
“Hi there,” Estelle wrote back.
And the conversation proceeded from there:
Handsomeguy345
: I like your smile.
Lovegrrl15
: Thanks!
Handsomeguy345
: So whereabouts do you live?
Lovegrrl15
: Horseheads. Where do you live?
Handsomeguy345
: Corning.
Lovegrrl15
: Oh, I like that glass museum there.
Handsomeguy345
: Yeah, it’s real good. So what do you do in Horseheads?
Lovegrrl15
: I work at God Bless America Meats.
Handsomeguy345
: Oh wow, I like their meat. It’s real good.
Lovegrrl15
: I know, I get free steaks once a month. And I get Friday afternoons off in the summer.
Handsomeguy345
: How lucky.
Lovegrrl15
: I know.
Handsomeguy345
: We should get together one of those Fridays. Maybe go to the glass museum? They have a nice café.
Lovegrrl15
: I love that café!
Handsomeguy345
: Then it’s a date.
With that, Estelle found herself in the most awkward and peculiar position she imagined could possibly exist. A date with both an ugly and a handsome man, one day apart. Drinks with Ugly Man followed by lunch with Handsome Man at a glass museum, no less. “What are the chances?” she asked Margaret, her coworker, the bookkeeper at God Bless America Meats. Margaret had recommended she go on Loveforreals.com. She hadmet Jake there and now they were engaged. She called him Jakey-poo and talked to him on the phone in baby talk. “Awww,” Estelle could hear her coo, “is Jakey-poo upset? Does Jakey-poo need a huggy wuggy?”
Estelle had heard people talk to their children like this and found it very annoying, but with a boyfriend it was even worse. She wondered if all the couples who met on Loveforreals.com developed annoying methods of address. You meet someone in print, how can you know what they sound like in
It had recently occurred to her that a woman who is an office assistant at a meatpacking plant in a town named Horseheads at age thirty-eight really can’t be picky at all. She was lucky Charlie even wrote her back. So the date was set; it would be cocktails and conversation. And that would be that. If they “clicked,” it could become more. If not, then nothing much would be lost but another evening of her life.
As the date grew nearer for Estelle and Charlie, the self-described Ugly Man, to meet, Estelle became more nervous. What would she do if he had been in one of those car accidents that rearrange your face so you look like a Picasso painting? What if he had a hunchback? What if he was covered in boils, or had acne pits so deepthat you could fit a fingertip inside them? She pondered how she would politely extricate herself from such a person, and what sort of person it would make her if she did—just fled like that.
“I am so excited to meet you,” wrote Charlie, two days before the evening of their date. Estelle felt a chill run down her spine. It wasn’t the good kind of chill, the excited and slightly nervous romantic sort, but the other sort, the kind you get when you know you are soon to have oral surgery and it could necessitate some sort of large metal instruments sawing away inside your mouth. “I am excited, too,” she wrote back.
She was becoming a liar. The Ugly Man was making her one.
One evening before the date, which was set for seven o’clock at the Black Bay Tavern in a neighboring town, Estelle saw she had a message on Loveforreals.com. It was from someone with the screen name “Handsomeguy345.”
What are the chances
, she thought,
that someone screen-named “Handsomeguy345” would e-mail you just as you are about to meet an ugly man?
It was a million to one, perhaps. It was like winning a lottery. That rare. But without the money, of course.
“Like your profile,” wrote the handsome man. “Wanna chat?”
“Hi there,” Estelle wrote back.
And the conversation proceeded from there:
Handsomeguy345
: I like your smile.
Lovegrrl15
: Thanks!
Handsomeguy345
: So whereabouts do you live?
Lovegrrl15
: Horseheads. Where do you live?
Handsomeguy345
: Corning.
Lovegrrl15
: Oh, I like that glass museum there.
Handsomeguy345
: Yeah, it’s real good. So what do you do in Horseheads?
Lovegrrl15
: I work at God Bless America Meats.
Handsomeguy345
: Oh wow, I like their meat. It’s real good.
Lovegrrl15
: I know, I get free steaks once a month. And I get Friday afternoons off in the summer.
Handsomeguy345
: How lucky.
Lovegrrl15
: I know.
Handsomeguy345
: We should get together one of those Fridays. Maybe go to the glass museum? They have a nice café.
Lovegrrl15
: I love that café!
Handsomeguy345
: Then it’s a date.
With that, Estelle found herself in the most awkward and peculiar position she imagined could possibly exist. A date with both an ugly and a handsome man, one day apart. Drinks with Ugly Man followed by lunch with Handsome Man at a glass museum, no less. “What are the chances?” she asked Margaret, her coworker, the bookkeeper at God Bless America Meats. Margaret had recommended she go on Loveforreals.com. She hadmet Jake there and now they were engaged. She called him Jakey-poo and talked to him on the phone in baby talk. “Awww,” Estelle could hear her coo, “is Jakey-poo upset? Does Jakey-poo need a huggy wuggy?”
Estelle had heard people talk to their children like this and found it very annoying, but with a boyfriend it was even worse. She wondered if all the couples who met on Loveforreals.com developed annoying methods of address. You meet someone in print, how can you know what they sound like in
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