Dater's Handbook. Cara LockwoodЧитать онлайн книгу.
questions about Peter. Nadia seemed to sense I didn’t want to talk about it, that I’d rather hear about Jeremy and Michael, and be distracted with stories that had nothing to do with my love life. After dinner, she suggested we go see a movie. We took a cab to the closest theatre, since parking downtown could be a bit of a bear. Rain trickled down on the wet pavement, matching my mood.
She asked about Peter just as we arrived and I paid the cab driver, who let us out down the block from the movie theatre.
“You know what? You were right. Things weren’t going well with Peter and he didn’t seem to care if they did.”
“Same old, same old.” Nadia glanced at me. “So…good for you. You okay?”
“Yeah,” I said, being honest. “I mean, I think part of me knew he was never going to be The One.” Or heck, even in the same solar system as The One.
A theatre poster showing a woman in a low-cut dress caught Nadia’s attention. She stopped and rubbed her pregnant belly that grew larger every day. “Seriously? What makes them think anyone could wear that? And she’s clearly not six months pregnant.”
“You’re tilting at windmills again,” I told her. She’d gotten this way during her last pregnancy, but the railing against the patriarchy seemed a little bit worse this time around.
“They mock me,” she said and I patted her arm sympathetically. “Real women are not built like that. Well…” She glared at me and my form-fitting jacket and jeans. “You are, but you’re a freak.”
“Stop,” I admonished her, even though I knew she wouldn’t.
As if Nadia weren’t gorgeous in her own right. She was only a smidgen taller than me, and one dress size bigger. That single dress size difference had somehow meant a lifetime of me being the skinny sister.
Nadia tucked an arm under mine as a way of an apology. She pulled me closer as we walked down the sidewalk.
“Maybe it’s time to try something new and break the habit of always choosing the wrong guy, time after time.”
Great, we were back on Peter and how I was sabotaging my love life. Maybe I should steer her closer to that swimsuit ad at the bus stop nearby and distract her once more. “Maybe seek some professional help…”
“What?” Was she saying I needed counseling?
“In the form of, say…a manual. Or a handbook of some sort.”
“You’re saying I should consult The Dater’s Handbook. I get it,” I said, proud of myself for containing my skeptical eye roll to my imagination.
“How could it hurt?” Nadia seemed really committed to this idea.
“Funny, I saw a copy of it in Dana’s desk.” That book did seem to pop up all the time in my life. Was the universe trying to tell me something?
“As in Dana who just married the Schmointz of her dreams? Try the book. Worst case—you end up where you are now. Best case—you meet your own Schmointz, fall in love, and live happily ever after.”
There that happily-ever-after thing was again.
“I don’t know.” I hesitated. The fastest way to get Nadia off this crazy idea was to agree with her, and yet, I couldn’t quite get myself to do it. “It seems so desperate.”
“Cass, Dr. Susie is a love and relationship expert. She has seven published books, all of them bestsellers.”
“I know.” Now I couldn’t even contain the eye roll.
“She lectures all over the country.”
“Mmm-hmmm.” Okay, if this went on for much longer, I was going to steer her over to the bikini ad.
“In fact, she’s giving a talk on The Dater’s Handbook. Tonight.”
Nadia stopped walking and nodded to the sign behind me. I saw Dr. Susie’s overconfident face staring back at me from the poster outside the small theatre. I’d been set up! Nadia dragged me here on purpose. She used the move as a ruse. I glared at her.
“I’m as shocked as you are,” she lied badly.
“Uh-huh. Sure.” I crossed my arms and then saw my salvation: the “sold-out” sign on the marquee. I pointed at it, but when I turned back to Nadia, she held up two tickets. Of course. She’d probably had this planned out for weeks.
I followed Nadia inside, and we took our seats.
“I’m going to get you back for this,” I told Nadia, figuring the next time she needed emergency babysitting, I’d just have to be busy.
“I’m doing this for your own good,” Nadia whispered.
The lights dimmed, and Dr. Susie walked onstage to roaring applause from the mostly rabid audience. Whoa. I glanced around at the women who’d mostly jumped to their feet in excitement as they clapped, and saw they weren’t the weird, desperate types I’d imagined. They all looked…mostly normal. Professional, like me. All in their late twenties to late thirties, all seemingly put together and most of them decent-looking. Why couldn’t these women find good men?
Then I remembered Peter. Maybe the question wasn’t that they couldn’t find good men. Maybe they couldn’t find better men. I considered this as I listened to Dr. Susie, who wore a black and white suit with her blonde hair up in a French twist and her makeup, as usual, flawless.
I had to admit the woman made a good case for being an expert. She had the audience eating out of her hand in a matter of minutes. Even I found myself leaning forward a bit, paying closer attention than I thought I would during the forty-five minute lecture on why we’re all preventing ourselves from being successful in love. Dr. Susie believed we’re all, in some way or another, settling. The whole key to the HEA, as she called the happily-ever-after, revolved around saying no more often than we said yes to men who failed to meet our needs.
It made me wonder. Had I said no enough? Had I really screened guys, other than by looks or whether they made me laugh? Dr. Susie told the audience in no uncertain terms that we ought to have several absolute “deal-breakers” for men, and we’d need to stick to our guns.
What were my deal-breakers? Frankly, in that moment, I couldn’t say.
I’d never admit this to Nadia, but the lecture got me thinking about my personal life in a way I hadn’t in a long time. When Dr. Susie announced she’d be selling and signing copies of her new book, nearly the whole auditorium lined up for a copy. This was clearly how she made her money, I figured. That, and the cost of the ticket, which wasn’t all that cheap as I stared at my stub.
“Let’s go get in line,” Nadia said, hustling me over to a group of people by a table piled high with copies of The Dater’s Handbook.
“No. That’s okay, really, I…” Dr. Susie had given me a lot to think about, but that didn’t mean I was one hundred percent ready to jump on The Dater’s Handbook bandwagon. Nadia, however, grabbed two copies of the book from the table and pulled me into line. It seemed to take forever for us to make it to the front, and I was beginning to wonder if Dr. Susie might get a hand cramp from all those signatures. When it was our turn, finally, I heard Dr. Susie plug her audio book as we stepped up to the table. Nadia nudged me forward.
“I’m your sister and I support you,” Nadia said, and before I could say another word, I felt Dr. Susie’s attention on us.
“Hi. I’m married,” Nadia blurted.
Great. Some support. She’d basically just said, “You don’t need to Doctor-Susie me,” and threw up her hands.
“Congratulations,” Dr. Susie told Nadia. “Hopefully, you will read my book and it will validate your choice in husband.”
“Make it out to ‘Nadia,’” she said, handing Dr. Susie the book. Nadia glanced at me. I stared back, hoping she wasn’t going to