Point, Click, Love (2 page)

Katie was stunned, and her kids must have sensed it.

“What’s that, Mommy?” asked her five-year-old daughter, Maggie.

“Just a card,” Katie said, hoping the whole thing would fly over their heads.

“Did you know that guy?” asked seven-year-old Frank.

No such luck, thought Katie. “Um, yes, I think we went to high school together.”

“Then why didn’t you say hi to him?” asked Frank.

“I wasn’t sure it was him.”

“Why didn’t he say hi? Why did he pay for our lunch?”

Initially flattered, Katie was starting to get annoyed. Why’d he have to do that in front of my poor kids? she thought to herself. Didn’t they have enough to deal with, being from a broken home and all? “Maybe he was shy,” she said to Frank. “Like you. You’re shy.”

Katie was proud that, for the two years after her divorce, everything she did was in the best interest of her kids. In fact, her
follow-up book to
It Is What It Is
would be called
Is It Good for the Kids?
Katie had figured out that by putting her kids first, divorce could actually be relatively easy and painless. There could be no fighting with the ex, because that would be bad for the kids. After a while, she was even able to develop a genuine affection for Rob, simply because she knew that’s what the kids wanted. Every now and then they’d ask, “Mommy, can we all have dinner together like we used to?” and she would say, “Sure, let’s ask Daddy.” Rob would always agree because he also seemed to intuitively know the secret to a no-hassle divorce. And by developing a good relationship with Rob, she managed to avoid the continuing anger and bitterness and grief that most other divorcées had to endure.

By focusing so single-mindedly on the kids, Katie was able to block out any thoughts about what was going on, or not going on, in her life.

But it was the sex, or lack thereof, that finally caught up with Katie. A base human need, like food or water, was what shattered her idyllic post-divorce world.

A
lmost all the Match.com emails that Katie received began with a compliment about her appearance: “Nice smile,” “Great eyes,” “You look much younger than 34!” So she was happy when one suitor named Nate wrote, “Nicely written profile. I read so many of these things and yours is hands down the best. Original, funny. Are you a writer?”

Katie was flattered. The fact was, she’d rarely written anything longer than a grocery list since college but had always wanted to be a poet. She’d written poems to Frank and Maggie on their birthdays every year from the day they were born, figuring that one day they would sit and read them all, one by one, in order. She knew her Match.com profile was no work of art, but she had labored
over it for days and was glad that someone out there seemed to notice.

“Thanks,” she wrote back to Nate. “Not a writer (I work in a bank). Always wanted to be a food critic though. Love to write, love food, and am very, very critical.” Katie liked to throw things in her emails to scare men away, just to see if they’d come back for more.

“I love critical,” Nate replied. “In fact, I broke up with my first wife because she wasn’t critical enough.”

Great response, thought Katie. But the best part was that he didn’t feel the need to stick a smiley-faced emoticon at the end.

“That’s strange,” noted Katie. “My ex said the exact opposite about me. Maybe we should have swapped spouses.”

“Definitely,” wrote Nate. Short and sweet. “So how long have you been doing this online thing?”

“Only a month or so. I guess it’s fun, except when it’s depressing and soulless.” Katie was feeling cocky. Could she really write the words “depressing and soulless” without making this poor guy go running for the hills?

“Yeah, I know what you mean,” agreed Nate. “But I don’t seem to have any luck anywhere else. I’m not much for the bar scene. Where do you go to meet people?”

“You know, the usual places,” Katie answered, feigning knowledge about such things. “Airplanes, firehouses (I always liked firemen), the grocery store.”

“All women seem to go for firefighters,” mused Nate. “What is it? The mustaches? I’ve never met anyone at a grocery store. Which ones have all the action?”

“I like the Safeway on 75th and Spruce. Go around 6:00 and you’ll catch all the ladies in their pencil skirts and pumps after work.”

“OK. I’ll definitely give that one a try,” wrote Nate. “Next time
you go there, look for me in the produce section. I’ll be the guy fondling the melons.”

And at that, Katie’s heart sank, her hopes plummeting. Fondling melons? She tried reading it over and over again, looking for some way to make it sound not quite so perverted. But there was no way around it. It was perverted. Why did he have to go and use the word “fondling”? “Touching,” “holding,” even “caressing” she could handle. And what’s up with the “melons”? “Cantaloupe”? “Honeydew”? If Nate was looking for a girl with melons, he might as well look elsewhere. And didn’t he realize that their fledgling correspondence really couldn’t support references to melon fondling? Katie was at a loss. She decided to close her laptop and call it a night.

Katie got one more email from Nate, asking, “Are you there?” But she decided to ignore it. Before going on Match.com, she never would have imagined ignoring someone’s email, but she learned that in the dog-eat-dog world of Internet dating, you had to be firm. Still, she worried she wouldn’t find another like Nate. Until Ed came along.

Ed was kind of a gusher. While most men chose one or two things to compliment, Ed complimented
everything—
her black hair, her blue eyes, her toned arms, her tiny waist, her taste in books, her favorite restaurants, even the fact that she had two young children, something Ed, at age forty-six, never had and seemed to regret. Some might have called his behavior over the top, but Katie couldn’t help but fall for it. Rob rarely complimented her on anything, so she felt like she had a lot to make up for, and Ed was willing to do the job.

When Ed first emailed Katie, she was a little annoyed that he’d ignored her age specifications. Putting her potential beau’s age limit at forty-five was already a stretch, so she wasn’t sure how she felt about dating a forty-six-year-old. Still, she was taken in by Ed’s boyish face, bright-blue eyes, and graying blond hair. And
his profile was so perfect she thought for sure he had invented the whole thing.

He was raised in Los Angeles but had lived in the Midwest for the last twenty years, working as an executive for a technology company. He made at least $150,000 a year—Match.com stopped counting at $150,000, as if to say, “Why would you need to make any more than that?” Katie always found it strange that some people were willing to disclose their salaries, but she was happy to know. Ed went to Princeton for college, business school at Wharton, and in between spent a year in Paris working for an investment firm.

Then she stopped herself. Why do I care where he went to college? Katie wondered. I thought I was doing this for the sex. She realized that, when in bed with a man, it would probably be better to be there with a twenty-eight-year-old with an associate’s degree from a junior college than a forty-six-year-old with an Ivy League education. At that point she had to admit that maybe she
was
looking for something more than just sex. Good conversation? Nice dinners in fancy restaurants? Maybe the symphony? He could always use Viagra if need be.

Frankly, Katie couldn’t imagine why Ed was interested in her. It wasn’t as if she didn’t have confidence, but she knew her limitations and she didn’t have a résumé that could compare to Ed’s. So what was it about her? Was her smile really so inviting? Her arms so alluring? Her restaurant picks so interesting?

After only a couple of emails, Ed asked for Katie’s number, and within seconds of sending it to him, Katie heard her phone ring.

It was one of those rings that pierces your body and runs up your spine. One of those rings that signals a call that might just change your life.

“Hello?” Katie answered, a slight tremor in her voice. This was the first time she was actually talking to one of her suitors.

“Hi there, Katie. It’s Ed.”

Katie liked how confident Ed sounded. He already seemed in complete control of the situation.

“That was quick,” said Katie.

“I don’t believe in wasting any time. When I see something I want, I go after it.”

“So you already know you want me?”

“I know I’m intrigued enough to find out more about you.”

“Intrigued, huh?” Katie had never thought of herself as intriguing, but she liked the sound of it.

“I’m all about finding great things in unexpected places,” Ed said.

“Oh, yeah?”

“Sure. I’m in biz dev.”

Biz dev? thought Katie. “I’m sorry, I don’t speak that language.”

“Business development. My bad. You hang around these technology types long enough, you start abbreviating everything.”

My bad? Is this guy
trying
to sound like he’s twenty years old? wondered Katie. “What do you do?”

“I look for small companies doing great things and buy them out.”

“I see. Let them do all the hard work and then reap the benefits.”

“Exactly!”

“So I guess you work with a lot of young people.” The minute she said it, Katie realized she had said the wrong thing.

“Well, yes. But I don’t consider myself an old fart yet.”

“Oh, of course, I know. I’m sorry. I just meant—”

“I know, I know. Don’t worry about it. It’s true. Most of the people I work with are much younger than me. I tend to gravitate to younger people.”

“Am I young enough for you?” asked Katie.

“I don’t know. We’ll have to see if you can keep up.”

“I have to say, most of the guys on Match seem to be looking for younger women.” Katie was always appalled when she came across men who unabashedly stated that they’d date only women at least five years younger than themselves.

“That’s true. Most guys think younger is better. But in the past year I dated a woman in her twenties and a woman in her fifties. Age doesn’t matter to me. It’s who you are.”

Katie couldn’t help but be charmed by Ed. She liked how self-assured, but not arrogant, he sounded. Well, maybe a little arrogant. But maybe he actually had something to be arrogant about.

“So you want to give this a try, Katie? Would you like to meet for dinner?”

Katie had expected to be invited for coffee, maybe a drink. She liked that Ed went right for the dinner. “Sure. Why not?”

Katie was excited. She wanted to tell someone about her first Match.com date, but it was too late to call anyone, particularly her best friend, Maxine, who usually went to bed around ten o’clock. Maxine’s husband, Jake, was a doctor and liked to get to bed early. Maxine and Jake had gone to a couples’ workshop in San Francisco a few years ago and the counselor told them that couples have the best relationships when they go to bed at the same time. Maxine swore it had made her marriage better, but Katie couldn’t imagine how much better it could have gotten, since it already seemed perfect to her. Maxine always had the perfect marriage, and as much as Katie tried to find a chink in Maxine and Jake’s armor, she never could. It was real. But rather than envying her friend, Katie was heartened by Maxine’s good fortune. Maybe, someday, it could happen to her.

Chapter Two

M
axine’s life used to be an open book. She used to share her thoughts and feelings with the people around her—her family, her friends. Now her life was full of secrets. She thought things and did things that she didn’t want anyone to know about. Like the fact that she spent hours at her computer going to celebrity gossip websites.

Maxine was sure people would be shocked if they knew. She had spent her childhood reading books rather than watching
Gilligan’s Island
and
The Brady Bunch
, like her friends did. She didn’t even own a television until she had her first child in her late twenties. She was an artist—a painter—and a philanthropist. She was married to one of the most renowned gastroenterologists in the country. She had traveled the world and spoke fluent French,
some Italian, and a bit of Chinese. Her kids were little geniuses who attended the fanciest prep school in town and were fawned over by their teachers. But the fact of the matter was, with all this, she spent a good part of her day reading about the celebrities and stars—both big and small—who populated online resources, from People.com to TMZ.

She read about their triumphs and their tragedies, followed their career ups and downs, and looked at photos of their well-dressed children. She watched them lounge on the beach topless in the South of France and walk the streets of Santa Monica with Starbucks lattes in hand. But what she loved most was reading about their romances and breakups, marriages and divorces. For some reason, reading about Katie and Tom, Demi and Ashton and Bruce, and Lance and Sheryl and Kate and Ashley and that poor ex-wife who had stood by him through all those Tours de France and never uttered a bad word about him even after being dumped, made Maxine feel like she was on the verge of some kind of discovery about life, love, and marriage.

Maxine was particularly intrigued by the Brad/Jen/Angelina combo. Even before she became celebrity-obsessed, she was struck by Brad and Jen—the golden couple. Everything about them glowed: their shiny blond hair and sparkling white teeth and richly tanned skin. Maxine had the idea that her friends thought of Jake and her as the Brad and Jen of the Midwest. No, they weren’t quite as tan, their teeth weren’t so white, and their hair wasn’t as shiny. But they were pretty people, smart, successful, wealthy. So everyone thought they had the perfect life.

Then Brad left Jen for Angelina.

Maxine was devastated.

She knew it wasn’t about Brad and Jen—it was about Jake and her and the idea that there was no such thing as a perfect couple. If it could happen to Brad and Jen, why couldn’t it happen to her?

At first she hated Angelina—those ridiculously plump lips and
her haughty demeanor on the red carpet. And what about all those tattoos, the vial of blood around her neck, and kissing her brother full on the mouth at the Oscars? But after a while, she started thinking that Angelina did have more substance than Jen. She genuinely cared about the world around her and used her celebrity to make a difference for the poor and destitute. Sure, Maxine wondered about all those adopted kids, whether the couple was biting off more than they could chew. But their hearts seemed to be in the right place. Soon, Maxine accepted Brad and Angelina as a couple and decided it was better this way.