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Meredith Before
MissCherry718: Soooo, I haven’t seen this guy’s profile on the site here yet (must have the wrong qualifications checked), but DAYUUUMM! I’ll happily take one for all of womankind if he messages me. I’ll find out if he’s real or not for you. LOL
Escape9to5: Ugh. I don’t understand this girl’s complaint at all…Is she saying that hot guys are above using Tinder and “liking” her? Maybe she has some self-esteem issues. Can someone nominate her to be on Dr. Phil’s show or something?
Autumn42: I’m with you Escape9to5! Like, ‘Oh, noooo…The horror of a sexy as fuck man swiping right on me several times!’ Maybe he’s really trying to get your attention? Maybe he’s THAT interested in you?
MissCherry718: I can’t determine if she’s trying to “humble brag” about how much this guy wants her, or if she’s really this delusional.
Escape 9to5: You guys, it’s neither. It’s just clear that she’s new to Tinder. That, and she needs to get fucked and get back in her right mind. Bahahaha!
I groaned as I read over the latest responses on my public post. Within a week, the entire community had turned against me, and I was on the verge of deleting the post, but the sting of the truth was holding me back.
“She needs to get fucked and get back in her right mind…”
I was hoping that tonight’s date with the latest guy I’d met on Tinder would have that exact ending. We’d been messaging for the past several days in a row—toeing the line between flirting and making it obvious that we both wanted to have sex. Granted, his dirty talk wasn’t the best I’d ever heard, but it was far from the worst.
“Once I finger bang your pussy, you’ll never want to be finger-banged by another man again…”
Opening my text messages, I opened the last one he’d sent.
Be
“Miss Thatchwood…” My boss cleared her throat, launching me back into reality where I was supposed to be working. “Has Ralph Lauren returned my messages about those grey suits? What about Jason Wu?”
“Mr. Lauren is currently sitting in your office,” I said. “I talked him into stopping by for a late lunch once I saw that he was in town via Instagram.” I picked up a red binder and held it out for her. “Jason Wu sent this over an hour ago. I wanted to go through all the things I knew you’d hate before handing it over.”
Her lips curved into a smile and she stared at me for several seconds. “I don’t normally say this, and I doubt I’ll ever say it again, but I’m very impressed with you, Miss Thatchwood. I honestly thought you wouldn’t last beyond a week, or that you would break down and return to your heiress-empire a lot sooner, but you might end up being one of the best assistants I’ve ever had.”
Might? “I think I already am…”
“No, not yet.” She shook her head. “Last another two years and I’ll make a decision on that.” She looked at her watch. “You can leave now. I don’t need you here any longer today.”
I shut my laptop before she could change her mind. I grabbed my oversized bag and rushed to the closest bathroom, where I traded my blue button-down shirt and khakis for a simple beige lace dress. I swapped my silver toned flats for nude colored stilettos, and coated my plain pink lips in my preferred shade of sinful red.
I walked in front of the floor-length mirror and made sure everything matched before hailing a cab to The Brunch 7.
By the time I made it through rush hour’s grueling gridlock traffic, I was three minutes late to meet Be
Dressed in a light grey suit and bespoke tie, he looked exactly like the brown-eyed boyish accountant in his picture. I wasn’t sure if that was a good thing, though.
I didn’t feel any sparks or butterflies fluttering in my stomach. There was a small hint of attraction—the same feeling I’d felt this morning when the building’s postman dropped off our latest runway catalogues, but nothing more.
Taking my seat across from him, I smiled. “I’m sorry I’m late, Be
“No worries. I wanted to make sure I was here early to ensure a good impression,” he said. “You look beyond amazing in person. Even better than your photos.”
I waited to feel my body react to his compliment. Nothing.
“Thank you very much,” I said.
“Let’s start this off simple to break the ice,” he said. “How was your day today?”
“It was pretty good, but hectic. Even though my boss gave me a huge compliment about my performance, I spent most of today—”
“I bet it wasn’t as hectic as my day.” He cut me off. “I work an insane schedule that you wouldn’t believe, one that most people can’t even dream of handling.”
Okay, so you’re one of those a “No one in this city works as hard as me,” he said. “I can guarantee you that. You’ll be amazed at how I’m even awake right now, once I walk you through everything that I do.” A waitress set two glasses of water on the table, briefly pausing his spiel. “What can I get for you two today?” she asked. “All treats are half off for happy hour.” “We’ll have an order of cookies for the first course,” Be “I’m allergic to peanuts,” I said. “It’s not deadly, but it’s two levels right below that. I could’ve sworn that I told you this yesterday morning via our chat thread.” “This place serves amazing peanuts, though.” He smiled. “A few bites won’t kill you.” “They literally will.” “Nah, trust me.” He looked at the waitress. “We’ll also have two coffees and a truffle. Light with the peanuts on that one, since she’s a little sensitive to them.” I rolled my eyes and opened my purse, making sure I had my epi-pen. “Like I was saying,” he said, leaning back in the booth. “My day has been really crazy, so I’m looking forward to bringing you back to my place tonight for some much-needed Netflix and chill time. Speaking of which, on your profile, you answered a few questions about certain fantasies and although I left mine blank, I wanted to discuss them with you.” He lowered his voice. “One of my favorite things to do in the bedroom is…” Tuning him out, I tried my best to keep a straight face, as he continued to have a one-sided conversation. A I discreetly held my phone under the table. Opening my inbox, I sent Gillian a quick email. Subject: PLEASE SAVE ME NOW. HELP! Date from hell! Call me the second you see this email, Gil. I’m on my umpteenth nightmare Tinder date and I can’t see this one through to the end. Try to scream loud as hell into the phone, so I can act shocked and pretend like it’s a real emergency. Thanks a million, Meredith “You know, I’m enjoying our conversation so much, that I feel like we may need to order a round of wine,” Be