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“Okay.” Lower lip between my teeth, I clicked on the ten-day free trial button that beckoned to my soul like a steaming cup of coffee. I input my name, which the app allowed people to keep private before stalling out on a username to identify me.
@AntsyFeet?
@ScatterBrain?
@FocusingFailure?
“Ugh.” I slumped, my thumbs hovering over the screen’s keyboard. Red Robin, the nickname Dad had given me because I sang way too often as a kid regardless of my inability to carry a tune flitted through my head. That sounded negative in my head though.
I wouldn’t catch flies with vinegar, but honey…that was a different draw.
@RedHeadedRayofSunshine.
The positive description burst into my mind, and my grin returned. Perhaps the description tended toward too much, but my favorite English teacher from middle school had called me a burst of sunshine once, and the nickname had brightened my day.
So, yes. I named myself a ray of sunshine with red hair, stating I sought two men. I clicked on relationships rather than hookups and dove into the rest.
As with any test, I agonized over every question as I went through the profile creation. Having compared myself to my twin’s type A personality my entire life, I knew exactly where I sat in that alphabet. A solid B with nothing else sprinkled in for extra flavoring.
A half hour had passed, and my brain had exhausted itself. I was left with the final task—writing a brief summary of who and what I was to go along with a profile picture.
I basically needed to create an ad for myself.
“Oh shit.” I giggled since marketing was definitely beyond my mental skills. “Let’s start with a picture.”
I scrolled through the few selfies I’d taken in the previous couple of months since Nora had purchased the cell for me, but nothing about my makeup-less face screamed “hottie you’ll want for life.”
Grimacing, I scrolled until I reached the beginning of my phone’s images.
Nothing.
Huffing, I lifted my cell, tucked some wild hair behind my thankfully rounded ear, and kept my smile to a minimum. I blinked in the flash and burst into giggles at the awful half-lidded image on the screen.
I tried again and snorted a chuckle.
A third time.
Fourth.
By the fifth, I growled beneath my breath while clicking. I’d managed to keep my eyes open, but I looked constipated. Another burst of laughter escaped me, and I clicked another photo just for the hell of it before my giggles stopped.
“Well.” My grin widened as I studied the candid shot. “Not too bad!”
I saved my laughing profile pic, the only one I’d managed that looked like the real me, then proceeded to agonize once more over writing an ad about myself that would lure the men I hoped to find.
My brain hurt to the point I couldn’t think, same as with anytime I’d neared the end of a test in school. But since I couldn’t just shade in alphabetized circles to guess at answers, I jotted down brief, unconnected tidbits about who I was.
A poor farm girl wishing to be barefoot and pregnant in a kitchen. One, five, or ten kids—I just wanted some of my own to love unconditionally. I dreamed about two men thanks to my newest favorite MMF author. They must love coffee. I promised organized closets and silly happiness and laughter.
Without rereading or second-guessing my brief bio, I saved my profile and sagged against my pillows propped against my headboard.
I’d never been one to pursue when it came to men, but I’d managed to lose my virginity fresh out of high school. I’d also dated an asshole farmer back home for six months before he grew weary of me and found someone quieter, more subdued.
While I didn’t have extensive experience, I’d read and had daydreams aplenty.
A yawn attempted to split my face in half, so I exited the app before I got caught up in searching. Too many of the profile’s identifying terms had boggled my mind. I would trust Missing Link to match me with what I hoped to find, same as it had done for thousands before me.
I stripped down to my panties and climbed under my blankets, thoughts of dark-haired princes riding in on white stallions pulling me into sleep. Not only did they promise multiple orgasms, fantasies fulfilled, and incandescent delight, but they loved everything about me—quirks and all.