"There are a lot of reasons for that. One—I don't want you spying on each other online. I don't need you going to your first meet with preconceived notions. Or backing out before you ever get together because one of you has seen a bad picture of the other, or something less than complimentary. It's a hazard of the job that there's too much personal information available out there. Silly things we posted when we were young. Things we posted when we were drunk or angry.
"I screen everyone. I've never let a crazy through. You can trust me on that. I don't need those…let's call them minor mistakes and indiscretions of the past influencing your opinions of each other in the here and now. People change. They grow up. I've found that meeting in person is the only accurate way to judge your chemistry and get a clear view of the other person.
"So there you have it, your first rule. No surnames before you meet in person. After that, it's up to you how much personal information you share with each other."
"His name is Jeremy. Is that all I'm allowed to know?"
"Not all. He's in the tech field. He has an impressive net worth. Given your level of success, I know that's important to you. You don't want a guy gold-digging you. I assure you, he's a totally sweet, adventurous guy, well liked, with a great, supportive group of friends. I believe you'll be perfect together."
"That all sounds good," I said. "What happens next?"
"You wait for him to get in touch," she said as if it was obvious. "Most men prefer to text first. That's what I would expect if I were you."
Yeah, texting was dating protocol. I'd been around this horn with guys on dating sites. I knew the rules. I'd hoped the matchmaking game would be played differently when a matchmaker was involved. "I wait for him? That's quaint. And a lot like all the crappy dating sites."
I wished I could spot a trend where this means of playing the game was going out of style. But there was no hint of that.
She laughed. "You mean old-fashioned, don't you? Outdated? Antiquated, maybe? It's your second rule—the men make the first contact."
"But I'm a client, not a member." I thought I'd made a reasonable objection. Clients should make the move.
"Makes no difference. Besides, he's a client, too."
I grumbled.
She laughed again. "I heard that. I have excellent hearing and eyes in the back of my head. There's a reason for everything I do. Letting the man lead may seem an outmoded idea, but it works. That's why all the dating sites recommend it. Men like to do the chasing. Or like to think they are, at the very least. The chase is part of the game and thrill for them. It's all a game, really. Played right, it can be both satisfying and fun."
"So I wait?"
"You wait," she said. "And when he takes you out for that cup of coffee, he pays. That's rule number three—the men pay. Jeremy has plenty of money, so don't feel guilty about it."
"You have a lot of rules," I said.
"Oh, honey," she said, laughing, "we're just getting started with the rules. Every game has rules. The dating game is no exception. I'm sure you know this already, but when he texts you, don't text back immediately. Make him wait for your response, but not long. You don't want him to be in prolonged agony waiting for your answer, but you don't want to look overeager and too available."
"I have to play that game even though we're being matched by you?"
"Oh, yes," she said. "Just because I'm your screener, and intermediary if necessary, doesn't mean the rules of engagement have changed. The game is still afoot and played roughly the same way. Think of it as the slight differences in rules between high school and college sports.
"So you wait. You text back. All the regular rules apply for the first date, no matter how casual. No complaining. You're Miss Sally Sunshine. Everyone is attracted to happy people and no one likes a whiner. No bringing up exes. No mention of other guys you're dating—remember, I don't recommend being exclusive until five or more dates in. No mention of other men you're interested in or seeing. Common-sense stuff like that.
"Just get to know each other, and most importantly, relax, be yourself, and have fun. Being yourself is key. I always tell my clients that when you find the person you can most be yourself around, you've more than likely found the one."
She took a breath. "All right, I'm arriving at my last meeting of the day. That's all I have for now. I'll text you the latest picture I have of Jeremy as soon as we hang up. Cut the picture a little slack. I took it myself on the fly. He changed his look up since his last professional headshot. I don't want a repeat of the first meeting between you and me. I want you to recognize him when you see him. Just remember that I take a decent photo, but I'm not a pro."
"All right," I said. "I promise." But inwardly, I was amused.
"We'll talk again soon, hopefully to do a date postmortem. I always talk to both parties after the first few dates to see how things are going. And if you're out with him, and need my help, need to talk, get advice, use me to provide an escape, just call. I'm available to my clients twenty-four-seven. Don't be shy. That's what you're paying me for."
"Sounds good."
"All right, then. In the meantime, I'll be looking through my database for more matches for you. I have a large pool to draw from, especially here. As a woman in Seattle, you're in the enviable position. Men here have fewer options. Good luck!"
We hung up.
Seconds later, I got her text with Jeremy's picture. My heart was pounding as I opened the text and magnified the picture. I wasn't sure what I was hoping for. Oh, wait. Sure I was—hot and smiling. A sense of humor that came through in a picture. Intelligence. You can spot an intelligent look about a person in a picture. And I didn't mean he had to be wearing a tweed suit and sitting in a library. Actually, that would be kind of creepy.
I took a deep breath and a good look at the photo. Staring back at me was a bearded guy with short, stylish dark hair. My heart stopped. "You." I was stunned.
It was him, the guy from the accident. Mr. Hero. I would recognize him anywhere. His face was etched in my memory.
Ashley had somehow magically found the guy from the accident and matched me up with him. What was she? My fairy godmother? When her matchmaking company went public, I definitely had to invest. She was amazing. She had really called this one. Now if only he would call me. If Ashley ever asked for one, I was going to give her one amazing testimonial.
I was so pleasantly shocked, euphorically shocked, actually, that I had to remind myself to breathe, just breathe. I took a calming breath and a closer look at the photo on my phone. Even with the calming breathing, the phone shook in my hand. No, I certainly had not been blinded by adrenaline that day.
Oh, the guy was cute. Devastatingly so. I loved the new look and was totally impressed that he'd changed his look up for fall, too. How many guys did that? A man after my own heart.
The new look was on the cutting edge of fashion with the beard and the hair. The haircut was trendy and perfectly complemented his features. And, of course, a beard was the perfect accessory for a guy for fall. Short now. Longer later for winter. Trimmed for spring. Clean-shaven for summer. Kind of like the cycles of my makeup.
The photo was just a simple headshot with the focus on him and a blurred background—it looked like it might have been taken at a restaurant. There was no telling how tall Jeremy was just from the picture. But, of course, I knew exactly how tall—enough taller than me to make me happy.
I'd been fooled by dating site photos before. Girls make themselves look thinner and post only headshots if they think they're too heavy. Guys find ways to make themselves look taller and more buff. Ashley was professional enough to send a shot that showed enough of him that I could tell he was slender, in shape, and slight built for a guy.
Jeremy was smiling. Even if I hadn't had real experience with him to know just how beautiful his smile was in real life, he had that smile in his immediate favor. He had generous, full lips. Very kissable lips, I remembered, sending my heart off to the race
s again.
Then again, who wouldn't smile knowing the purpose of the picture? It was a gorgeous picture. A picture any woman in her right mind would find enticing. Ashley had sold herself short—she took a better picture than she thought. Or maybe she just knew how to choose good subject matter. In any case, this photo was well taken and presented Jeremy well. But despite the smile, there was a hint of him not being happy about having his picture taken. So what was the story behind that? Just camera-shy?
For all that, he had intense blue eyes that contrasted with his hair. The dark hair and blue eyes made me think Irish. Those eyes caught me up short. They were arresting, even more so in person.
My pulse quickened. I took a deep breath, sat up, crossed my legs, and pulled a pillow into my lap. All right, Mr. Hero, the wait begins. Ashley gave you my number—so maybe you'll call?
As excited as you've made me at the thought of seeing you again, you damn well better get in contact soon. Or I will be crushed. Ashley had shown him my picture. If he was half as excited as seeing me again as I was him…
Sheesh, this was a crappy game. At least we weren't still in my parents' era, where you literally had to wait by the phone. There was that consolation, tiny as it was.
* * *
Jeremy
I received a text from Ashley just as I got off the phone with my buddy Cam.
Crystal would like to meet you. Go on and text the girl.
I rolled my eyes. Ashley's text sounded benign, but I could read her eagerness in those meager words. It was possible I should have given her credit—she'd never been this certain about any of my other matches. Those had all looked good on paper, but not panned out.
I was distracted, but, all right, I'd bite. A promise was a promise, even one made under duress. I checked my calendar. Now that I no longer worked at the office, it was pretty open. Time to play the game.
I texted Crystal. Hey, this is Jeremy. Ashley tells me she warned you to expect my text. Would you like to get together? Coffee? I work for myself. My schedule is flexible and open. Any morning this week except tomorrow.
I slid my phone in my pocket. I had some time to kill before she responded. Yeah. I knew the rules of this game all too well. Ashley had instructed her not to text back immediately, but to keep me on the string. Just not too long.
Ashley was right about that. If Crystal waited too long, I'd bag the whole adventure. I had another girl on my mind. If she broke the rules and texted right back? Yeah, Ashley was right. I'd probably think she was desperate.
* * *
Crystal (Thursday evening)
I was doing some online research on the sofa with my laptop when I got a text. A text from Jeremy. That was quick. I smiled, exceptionally pleased. He didn't waste any time. He must be eager to meet me. I froze mid-thought. Unless that was one of the rules for guys: Don't wait too long after I tell you to text.
I sighed. All right, it had to be one of the rules. But there was enough wiggle room to let me believe what might be the lie.
I read his text. Wow. Way to play it cool. There was no mention of recognizing me. Nothing but a bland, polite, businesslike invitation. Coffee? Just coffee?
Ashley had called that right, too. Coffee. And then all the dating insecurities flooded in.
Coffee didn't signal commitment. It didn't signal eagerness and tragic longing for me. If the date wasn't going well, it was easy to bail out. Had I misread the chemistry between us at the accident? Had he gotten a good look at my picture and his adrenaline goggles had fallen off? Had he realized the rush was not due to my devastating beauty and charm and he'd not seen dinner-worthy in me? Coffee?
I punched my chest—yes, I have always been dramatic. This was a blow to my heart and my ego. Enough dramatics.
I looked at my watch. I preferred not to play games, but playing by my rules hadn't landed me a man so far. And I really wanted a chance with this one. All right, Ashley, I'll play by your silly rules.
I frowned as I read his text again. More bad news—tomorrow was the only day this week I could make it. Day after tomorrow I was out of town for over a week. What if she matched him up with someone else in the meantime? No exclusivity until after five dates. What if he'd already had four dates with some hot babe and was just killing time until she was available for the fifth?
I pushed my girlish insecurities aside, grabbed a chocolate bar, and killed time. I waited a tortuous half-hour and texted back, matching his bland, benign tone. Two could play this game. Coffee sounds great. I work for myself so my schedule is usually flexible, too. Unfortunately, I'm out of town after tomorrow until the following Monday. I'm open that morning, though, if you have time.
And now I prepared to wait another long half an hour for his response. The rule of thumb was for the guy to wait as long as I had before responding. So that he didn't look too eager and desperate, either. This game could go on all night.
* * *
Jeremy
I was finishing my takeout when Crystal answered my text, half an hour almost to the minute after I texted her. I read it, looked at the clock, and waited forty-five minutes before responding. A week's a long time to be washing your hair;-) Monday after next sounds great. Ten? Jet City Coffee in Seattle?
Jet City Coffee was a small local chain. It had several stores around the Seattle metro area, all of them excellent. I picked the one nearest me. I was tired of traipsing all over the city meeting women. If she was interested enough, she'd come, and meeting in Seattle gave the appearance of meeting at a central location. I hit send and turned on the TV. I had time to watch my favorite show before Crystal responded.
You could see where this texting game could spiral out of control if the details took too long to work out. Of course, a simple phone call would have solved the problem and taken a lot less time. But who does that? Call a woman off the bat and you'll scare her away.
* * *
Crystal
I was brushing my teeth, getting ready for bed, when I finally got Jeremy's text.
He had a sense of humor and he liked Jet City Coffee. Those were good signs. Jet City was my favorite coffee shop. We were so in sync. He suggested a central location. That was thoughtful. I would have preferred the West Seattle one near me, but how would he know that? He had no idea where I lived.
I was tired of playing the game. I waited only ten minutes before texting back. Perfect. I'll see you there.
* * *
Jeremy
I was surprised when Crystal texted back so quickly. I hadn't expected her to respond until morning. Good. I was pleased she seemed eager to meet me and glad that was settled.
I texted Ashley. Crystal and I have a coffee date—a week from Monday. She's out of town until then. Happy?
Ashley responded immediately. I'll never be completely happy until you're perfectly matched.
I replied, Drama queen.
Ashley responded, You'll be calling me the queen of matchmaking once you meet Crystal. I think I'm more excited than you are.
6
Ashley
I spent the morning in my corner office at Pair Us with its view of Lake Union, doing paperwork and administrative tasks at my desk. It was the part of the business I liked least. But it was, at least, distracting, and I needed distraction this morning.
It had been a dry, hot summer. A smoky summer. Too many forest fires. Too much smoke hanging heavy in the air, making it difficult to breathe, something I hadn't expected from Seattle, with its reputation for rain and greenery. One of its nicknames was the Emerald City, but you wouldn't know it now. The green had turned to brown and the whole world was sepia with smoke. Another thing I wasn't used to in Manhattan—the city smelling like a constant campfire. Bring out the marshmallows and the graham crackers. Let's have some s'mores.
Even the locals complained that this was unusual. The weather was full of records—record number of days without rain, record number of days over eighty…
The smoke and the fires had hu
ng on through most of the month, occasionally raining ash on the city. It was trying the patience of people. They missed the rain. They were in rain withdrawal, if you can imagine that. It was so dry, I'd heard jokes about calling in a rainmaker. It felt as if we were holding our breath, waiting for air fresh enough to inhale. The usually outdoorsy Pacific Northwesterners were staying inside because the air quality was so bad. September was turning out to be a month of smoke and fire.
As for me, I was holding my breath as well, but for entirely different reasons. After most of a year in business here, I had a comfortable number of clients in the smoldering romance phase, just waiting to burst into flames. Smoldering was a delicate and dangerous place for a romance. So easy for it to go either way, particularly the wrong way. So easy to douse the anticipated flames with almost anything, even something as simple as a misworded text.
You have to understand—most of the people who come to me as clients have not had an easy time finding love and lasting companionship in the first place. If they had, why would they need me? I wasn't dealing with young, impressionable, naïve, rose-colored-glasses types of people. My clients had to have achieved a certain level of success to even be able to afford my services. Either that, or inherit wealth. But it's a fact that young people, even young wealthy people, will prefer to find love on their own first. I've yet to have a client who's hired a matchmaker as their first means of finding a spouse. I'm usually a desperate last resort. But no pressure.
If I was particularly jumpy this morning, it was because of Jeremy and Crystal. They were having their first date, a simple coffee date. First dates, especially simple meetups for coffee, didn't usually give me heartburn and anxiety. But this was different. I was already too emotionally invested in Jeremy's success. And yet something niggled at me as I sat staring out my window at the rippling waters of Lake Union.