Confessions of a Serial Dater Read Online Free Page A

it be cheesy of me to say that I couldn’t stop myself from watching you because you are by far the most interesting, beautiful woman in the room, and I was wondering how I might escape the boredom of the evening and sweep you away?”
    His words shower me with just the right dose of hypothetical cold water that I need. I am medium sized. My hair is straight, and almost black, and falls to just below my ears. I have a good complexion, and nice blue eyes. I am attractive in a normal kind of way.
    “Cheesy doesn’t begin to describe it,” I say, coming back to earth with a bump. A lump is building in my throat. This guy, whom I immediately christen Dr. Love, has a great line and a charming bedside manner, I’ll bet. But no way, no how, could he think I’m beautiful. Especially when comparing me to his own dinner companion.
    “Well, that’s what I thought. I shall remember to avoid cheesy compliments at all times. You have a very expressive, tactile face,” Dr. Love tells me, and I cringe at my own disappointment. I don’t want him to flirt with me, I definitely don’t, but “expressive, tactile face” just doesn’t hold the same allure as “most interesting, beautiful woman in the room.”
    “What’s that thing with the James Bond sardonic eyebrow?” I ask, just a bit crankily. “I bet it took years in front of a mirror to perfect.”
    “What can I say? Just the right amount of sardonic is so hard to achieve.” He raises his eyebrow and laughs. “I can see you’re not impressed.”
    “Sorry. But charming, sardonic eyebrows have no effect on me. Give me a man who can waggle his ears, every time,” I lie, and he throws back his head and laughs even more.
    God, but a man who can laugh at himself is so…endearing. I stop that thought in its tracks. I don’t want him to be charming, or endearing. I want him to be self-obsessed, with an ego the size of London. At least that way I could dislike him.
    “The ear thing I can’t do, but the eyebrow thing is a God-given talent. It drives my mother mad—she says I use it when I’m agreeing with her, but really disagreeing with her.”
    “And do you?”
    “All the time. I’m all for family harmony—not that there’s a great deal of it when we all get together.”
    “Sounds like mine,” I tell him. I want to know more about his family and its harmony. I wonder if he’s married…Before I can stop them, my eyes home in on our entwined hands. I can’t feel a ring, but then it’s the wrong hand for a wedding ring.
    What am I doing? I’ve known this man for five minutes. I don’t care if he’s married. After all, I’m practically engaged myself.
    Oh. In my bedazzled-by-Dr.-Love state, I forgot all about Jonathan. How could I do such a thing? I look over to our table as we sway around again. Jonathan is there, and is scowling across the room at me. I think I should get back to him. At least there’s no sign of Sidney.
    “The wanderer returns,” Dr. Love comments, following my line of vision. “I take it that’s your boyfriend?”
    “Yes.”
    “Ah, thought so,” he nods, not smiling anymore. And I don’t know if it’s my imagination or not, but he sounds just a bit disappointed. Which is ridiculous.
    “I really should be getting back,” I tell him, as Bing Crosby fades out.
    “Which is a shame, because ‘Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer’ is one of my favorite pieces,” he says, his mouth crinkling in a half smile. “At least you will be safe from Sidney of the wandering hands.”
    “You know him?” Oh. That’s not one I was expecting.
    “Unfortunately,” he tells me, removing his arm from around me. I shiver slightly and try to convince myself that no arms around me is a good thing. “We’re related.”
    “Oh, God. I didn’t mean to be rude about—”
    “No worries,” he says, holding up a hand. “We can’t choose our relatives. Sidney is an obnoxious fellow, which is exactly why I take the approach that you did over