Authors: Mary Crawford
“Jessica, come here. You remember that guy Daniel, I was talking to on BrainsRSexy.com? Look at this message he just sent me!” I yell across the room in disgust.
Great bait and switch babe. Thought you said you were an accountant, not some tattoo bimbo.
Jessica gasps as she reads the text message over my shoulder. “Oh my gosh, what a toolbox,” she exclaims. “I thought you said you had to reschedule your date with this guy because of your exam.”
“I did. So, I don’t know what his deal is. But, he sounds psycho. I’m going to block him. It’s weird though, because I had several conversations with him and I thought he seemed pretty normal. Maybe this online dating thing was a really bad idea,” I muse.
“Oh, come on. You can’t write everyone off just because one guy is weird. Didn’t you tell me you’ve had several conversations with nice guys?” Jessica replies. “Scoot over.” With that, my roommate literally pushes me out of my desk chair and onto my bed.
After a couple minutes, Jessica squeals with excitement, “Oh Ivy! Did you look at this guy, Mitch? He is a business major, but he volunteers for search and rescue and he has his own search dog he trained from a puppy that he rescued from the shelter. He sounds perfect for you. He’s totally cute too.”
With a reluctant sigh, I unfold my long limbs, hop off the bed and peer over her shoulder at my online profile. She’s right; the guy has an uncanny resemblance to Matthew McConaughey in his younger days. But, as I examine his profile more closely, I see a couple of problems. “Jessica, this says he likes petite women and redheads. In case you haven’t noticed, at almost 5’9 with nearly jet black hair, I’m neither.”
“Peshaw. Those are just cosmetic things. I’m talking about the match of your souls. The things that make you guys truly tick,” Jessica retorts with a grin.
“Peshaw? Did you seriously just say that? What are you? Eighty?” I tease. “Anyway, have you ever tried to date anyone shorter then you? It’s a drag. Guys get all insecure about it and then I feel like I have to slouch all the time to minimize the difference. It literally becomes a pain in my neck.”
Jessica laughs as she replies, “Yes, I’m well aware of the fact that I talk funny. It’s a side effect of being raised by my grandparents. You know good and well that the odds of me dating someone shorter than me are pretty minuscule since I’m 5’1.”
“Do you know how lucky you are? You get to be the cute cuddly girlfriend that he can tuck under his arm and protect from all the dangers of the world. He gets to be your hero and reach all the things you can’t. You’re just a pocket-sized ball of cuteness. I, on the other hand, look like an oversized giraffe. Guys never know what to do with me. I’m too tall for them to tuck under their arm. Many times, I’m actually taller than men I am dating — especially if they lie about their height to their matchmaking friends. It just turns into a colossal mess when I look really awkward dancing.”
Jessica’s eyes widen in surprise as she hears my self-assessment. “Seriously Ivy? Have you even looked in the mirror? You could be runway model or something. The guys around campus nearly faint when you walk in the room. Do you really not notice this stuff?” she asks with an incredulous tone in her voice.
I shrug as I fend off her questions. “I don’t know. I’ve always hated my hair. My parents have wonderful thick black, wavy curls. I have such boring ‘straight manageable hair’ as my mom likes to call it. I grew up hating it because it just underscored how different I was from my parents. It’s funny though, because my mom always says that she is jealous of my straight locks.”
“I hate to break it to you, but I think everyone is a little jealous of your beautiful long hair. If I had your hair, I wouldn’t be wearing mine in a ‘ stylish little pageboy’ as my hairdresser calls my mess of a do,” Jessica mutters running her hands through her hair. “I still think you should reply to this guy. I think he sounds nice.”
I lift my shoulder in a casual shrug as I reply, “Whatever, go ahead. Why don’t you chat with him for a while and see what you think? If he gets your seal of approval, I think about going out with him. I’ve got a study for my Economics exam.”
“Isn’t that the class that bores you to tears?” Jessica asks sympathetically.
I nod with a wistful expression on my face as I respond, “Sadly, yes. Unfortunately, every single class in my major is that way. The only classes that I’m enjoying are my electives that I have to take to fulfill the arts requirement of my liberal arts education.”
Jessica shakes her head in disbelief. “Ivy Love Montclaire!” she chastises. “You do realize that this is
college
and not high school, right? You don’t have to take courses you don’t like. You can choose to major in something you enjoy. Why are you torturing yourself with classes that you hate?”
“I know. I
know
.” I acknowledge, regretfully. “It’s just that my dad has always dreamed of opening an accounting firm with me. ‘ Montclaire & Montclaire’. I think he’s probably already got the business cards printed. My parents have made so many sacrifices for me and I don’t want to let him down.”
Jessica scrunches her nose up at me and rolls her eyes as she argues, “Ivy, do you really believe your parents would want you to choose a career that you absolutely hate just to make them happy? Your mom is a teacher. I know she would want you to choose something that you’re passionate about. I know without a shadow of the doubt that you are not passionate about accounting.”
“But I want to be, shouldn’t that count for something?” I whisper.
“Yeah, it shows you love your dad an awful lot. But, that shouldn’t be the only criteria for you to choose your career. I think you ought to go to the advising office and talk to somebody.”
Just then, the computer beeps. Jessica and I read the message from Mitch with a mixture of confusion and horror.
Hi Ivy,
Is this some kind of weird joke? I was just talking to you two days ago, but I thought you said your name was Rogue. It’s too bad because I thought you were kind of cool.
--Mitch
I quickly motion for Jessica to get up and I slide into my desk chair almost tipping it over in my haste.
At this moment, I am grateful for all the summers I spent working in my dad’s office, as I am able to respond to Mitch’s text in record time.
Mitch,
There must be some mistake. I just saw your profile for the first time today. You couldn’t have been talking to me because I didn’t contact you until about 30 seconds ago.
~ Ivy
I hit send and Jessica and I wait impatiently for his response. I can’t imagine what it’s going to be. I walk over to the bed and pick up my Economics textbook. After a couple of paragraphs, it’s obvious to me it’s an exercise in futility to pretend like I’m going to even try to study when my brain is clearly completely occupied with the drama in front of me. Finally, a message pops up on my screen.
Ivy,
Are you for real? Seriously no kidding? That’s freaking spooky! This other chick, Rogue looks just like you. Are you an Art major? Do you work at a tattoo place?
--Mitch
Jessica and I look at each other in disbelief. That’s twice in one day that tattoos have been mentioned. Something bizarre is going on.
Mitch,
No, that’s definitely not me. I am an accounting major and I’ve never even set foot in a tattoo parlor. I don’t know what the heck is going on. Can you look at my Facebook page and see if she’s using any of my profile pictures?
Thank you so much. I’m sorry I don’t mean to bother you with this weird drama.
~ Ivy
I hit send and wait for Mitch’s response. In the meantime, my mind is racing a million miles an hour. Of course I’ve heard of cat-fishing. You’d have to live under a rock to not be familiar with the concept. But what I don’t understand is why someone would be interested in pretending to be me. If you looked up the word boring in the dictionary it would literally have my picture. I lead the most non-exciting life ever.
The only creature ever interested in my life was my cat and that’s only because I fed her. I had to leave her home with my parents when I left home to go to college. I was so tired of the snow in Vermont that I chose the warmest place I could think of to go to school. Well, actually Florida was my second choice. I didn’t get into the school I wanted to in Hawaii. I’m so invisible here, that I can’t imagine anyone would want to assume my identity.
One of the reasons I signed up for BrainsRSexy was to become less isolated. I’ve fallen into this weird rut of going to class and the library and my job at the local ice cream parlor and not much else. Jessica threatened to line up all the guys from her classes and start randomly choosing numbers to set me up on blind dates.
My computer pings again and I glance at the screen with a mixture of trepidation in anticipation. Jessica has no such qualms as she’s practically shouting in my ear, “Hurry up and open the message!”
Ivy,
That’s uber-weird. I didn’t get the vibe from Rogue that she was running a scam. In fact, we were on a Skype call and I was teasing her about her unusual first name and she even showed me her drivers license to prove that it was really her real name. She has a Florida drivers license with the first name Rogue. I’ve never seen someone who works at a tattoo place that doesn’t have tattoos. I thought that was odd. But, other than that she seemed cool. I looked at your Facebook page, her picture isn’t any of the ones you have on Facebook.
--Mitch-- curious in the land of Disney
Mitch,
I have no idea where she would get a picture of me if she didn’t get it from Facebook. I’m not on Instagram because I’m not really a big picture taker and the last time I had a MySpace page I think I was in junior high so you would’ve been able to tell the difference. This is starting to creep me out.
~ Ivy
Almost instantly, my computer beeps in response.
Ivy,
I don’t know, maybe it’s just coincidence. You know how they say everyone has a double somewhere. Try not to worry.
-- Mitch
Mitch,
That’s true. But, I wonder why people think we have the same profile?
~ Ivy
Again, my computer beeps right away.
Ivy,
Another excellent question. Unfortunately, I don’t have a great answer.
-- Mitch
Mitch,
Sadly, I have to study for my economics exam. So, I need to go.
~ Ivy
My computer beeps almost as quickly as I hit the send button.
:-)
Economics was one of my favorite classes. Good luck with the exam.
-- Mitch
I guess it should be quite telling that the fact that he likes economics actually makes them less attractive to me. I wonder what I should read into that. I’m sure there are thousands of volumes of psychological studies and abstracts on that very topic.
But just then, an idea strikes me and I sprint down the hall to my neighbor’s room and bang on the door. A very startled guy in ratty sweatpants comes to the door. “Hey Craig, what’s the name of that guy that graduated like three years ago? You know, the one that was going to start his own security firm specializing in identity theft?”
Craig stretches and yawns as he eyes my pajama shorts and my baby doll T-shirt. “Yeah? What’s in it for me?” he asks with a leer.
I squint my eyes at him and shake my head as I reply, “If you ever want class notes for Poetry 250 which meets at 8 AM Monday Wednesday and Friday, I’m counting on you to cough up a name and phone number.”
Craig belches and then replies as he holds up his hands in surrender, “Okay, no need to be mean about it. The dude’s name is Tristan Macklin. He’s got a business a couple blocks off the campus. I’ve heard he’s spooky good. Are you going into hiding or something? Somebody told me he’s better than the witness protection program.”
I laugh out loud at Craig’s vivid imagination. “I’m sorry to disappoint you. But it’s nothing quite as dramatic as that. I’ll be sure to tell Tristan you said, ‘Hi’,” I say as I reach forward to shake Craig’s hand.
I watch as the color leaches out of Craig’s face. “Oh, that’s okay you don’t have to mention it. I’ll just do you a solid because we’re practically neighbors,” he says as he nervously wipes his hands on his pants and shakes my hand.
As I turn to leave the room, I look back and say, “For the record, I really liked the poem you shared the other day in class. You should speak up more often.” I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone blush in quite the shade of red as Craig in that moment, but he seems pleased by the complement.
I’m still grinning when I reenter my dorm room. As soon as I hit the threshold, Jessica starts yelling at me, “Where in the hell did you go? I left for one second to fix my contact lens and you were gone. With all this weirdness going on, I had no idea what happened to you. You left without saying a word. I was so scared!” At this point, she’s practically beating me with her throw pillow.
“Oh my God Jessica, I didn’t even think about it. I just ran down to Craig and Derek’s room to ask Craig a question,” I answer, feeling chagrined.
“Oh man, if that was designed to make me feel better, that was an epic fail. Craig is seriously creepy,” Jessica responds as she gives a full body shudder.
“Really? You think he’s that bad? He’s a little strange. I mean you don’t see very many full-grown men with a full contingent of Star Wars action figures in their dorm rooms, but other than that he seems nice enough to me. He always walks me to my car with an umbrella when it rains,” I comment.
Jessica just shakes her head at me. “I still find it hard to believe that you’re a couple years older than me. You seem to be missing some basic survival instincts. Did you not learn any street smarts along the way?” she asks me as she raises a questioning eyebrow in my direction.