"Bethany Ann, what the fuck were you thinking?" I asked myself as I checked my reflection in the mirror again.
It was the same thing I'd wondered after signing up for that dating site. It was what I'd asked myself when I'd answered Keith Sinclair's first email. And his twentieth. When I'd given him my phone number. And when I'd agreed to meet him for dinner tonight.
When I joined Shake.com, it had been out of curiosity. I'd seen their commercials. They made me laugh and got me wondering what kind of people really belonged to online dating sites. Surely, normal people didn't need to resort to such tactics to meet others. Although, to be honest with myself, I hadn't done a whole lot of meeting in the real world lately.
The first couple weeks had been purely amusement. After scrolling through page after page of profiles, I'd been convinced that this sort of thing was not for me. I'd filled out my questionnaire, paid my twenty-dollar enrollment fee, uploaded a semi-recent photo of myself, and eventually forgot about it.
Then, a few months after the site had slipped my mind, I'd received an email from Keith. I'd read it and found it quite amusing. He was witty and a quick check of his profile showed that he was attractive, successful and interested in quite a few of the same things I am.
To be polite, I'd written him a quick response explaining that I was flattered he'd contacted me but that I really wasn't interested in meeting men on the internet after all. I'd thought that would be the end of it, but I was wrong.
Keith had emailed again to tell me he understood my hesitance. He explained that he had joined the site just to see what the big fuss about internet dating was all about and that I was the only woman he'd ever contacted. I wasn't so naive as to believe him, but the wording and tone of his correspondence had been so light and friendly I'd gotten sucked in.
Before I knew it, we were emailing back and forth pretty consistently. When he'd suggested we try talking on the phone, I'd figured there wouldn't be any harm. Our first vocal conversation had lasted over two hours. It hadn't taken long for me to feel as if he were actually becoming a very good friend. We really did have a lot in common, and the discussions were always easy and never felt forced or uncomfortable.
For weeks, we'd spent at least an hour before bed talking to each other. One night, he'd even talked me into some pretty intense phone sex. After that call, I couldn't get his voice out of my head. I'd never been spoken to the way he'd talked to me. I was beginning to really like him.
Finally, he asked to meet me in person. I'd agreed a little too quickly and hoped it didn't make me seem desperate. I didn't want to say that we had a "relationship", but I certainly hadn't been involved with anyone else. Of course, I hadn't been with a man in almost a year, which had prompted me to join that stupid site in the first place.
My cheeks burned as I imagined our dinner conversation turning to that night on the phone. Would he bring it up? I didn't know how I'd face him after the things I'd said to him. I'd never even said the word pussy aloud before, let alone told a man how much I wanted to feel his cock inside mine.
I glanced at my watch and groaned. If I didn't leave soon, I'd be late for dinner. With another quick once over in the mirror, I realized it was as good as it was going to get. I grabbed my purse and keys then walked out the front door before I could change my mind.