Chapter 4

She went back to the living room, where Ginny was waiting for her. “Want some help picking out the next dork?” Ginny had picked up on the expression quickly and used it with relish.

So Virginia invited her granddaughter to follow her into the room they referred to as “hers,” where she kept a notebook with a series of entries on the profiles that had caught her eye.

“So anyway,” she said, finding the page headed DORKS, “there’s a Sam in Boulder who’s a 90% match, 72 years old, vegetarian—”

“Too old,” said Ginny. “You want one who’ll last.”

“Okay, here’s one who’s 67, Steve in Loveland, likes to dance, he and I match up at 96%—”

“96% sounds great, but Loveland is too far, don’t you think? Maybe put him toward the bottom, unless he sounds really interesting?”

“Actually no, he has a cat.”

“Cross him off. You’ll never be able to take Anax to his place.”

“All right. What about Alan in Elizabeth, 66, we’re a 93% match, he’s an agnostic, likes chocolate and has a master’s degree in physics. Oh, and he’s a Pisces.”

Ginny laughed. “How could he be a scientist and believe in astrology?”

“Nobody really believes in it. It’s just a game. We did it all the time when I was in college.”

“So what would you say about a Pisces if you were playing the game now?”

“Oh, it’s a great sign. I get along really well with them. As a matter of fact, my moon is in Pisces.”

“Whatever. So he sounds like a good one, but what you have to keep in mind is that, nice as it is, Elizabeth is in an area that tends to be conservative. Those people have money—and horses. I know you’re wanting to be tolerant and not eliminate anyone based on artificial standards, and most people would say there’s no such thing as too much money. But people do like to live in a place where they feel comfortable. I don’t think it would work for you. It sounds a lot like profiling, and you’re right, that’s what it is. But look at how many of the guys you date don’t work out. I mean, if it helps you make up your mind what you’re really looking for, keep it up. Otherwise, my advice is that you look for what you really want. At least give it a try.”

“Well okay, I’ll give you free rein for this next date. Alan is out. What about Bert? He’s 69, Jewish, lives in Longmont, 97% match, smokes weed, doesn’t watch TV and is allergic to peanuts.”

“Nothing obvious leaps out against him. Put him in the maybe pile.”

“There’s just one more here. Another Steve. He’s 65 and a 95% match. He lives in Aurora. He has a dog named Shelly. He likes to cook, read and play the guitar.”

“He sounds perfect! Is he hiding something?”

“Maybe he’s overweight. It’s hard to tell from the picture.”

“Were there any guys saying they want to meet you?”

“Just a Hey there or two.”

“You didn’t like their looks?” Ginny asked curiously.

“I didn’t like their come-on. They didn’t even go to the trouble to say what they liked about my profile.”

“Well so they’re lazy. Or maybe they’re shy. Is that a disqualifier?”

“It’s not laziness, and it’s certainly not shyness. It’s arrogance. When I was 21 and spent the summer in Spain, I would walk down the street by myself and these guys would keep going Psschtt! at me, just exactly the way people do when they try to get Anax to come to them when we’re walking in the park. I’m not a dog, and I don’t answer to Hey there.”

“You do realize this is internet dating. The rules are different. It’s normal to send off a Hi as a first sign of interest.”

“When I’m interested, I want them to be interested back. What’s interesting about a Hi? How does that make me stand out from the crowd? Anyway, what am I supposed to answer to a Hey there? Maybe I say, Hey yourself! Then he says, What’s up? And I say, Nothing much, how about you? We could go on like that for days. No, I mean is this what language is for, the thing that sets us apart from animals? It doesn’t bode well for the first date, does it now? I have this absurd preference for guys who express themselves. Might as well start off as we mean to go on.”

Virginia glanced up from the computer and saw that Ginny had turned into two people. One of them was shaking her head and laughing at her grandmother’s humor, the other was also shaking her head, but her expression was one of polite tolerance. Virginia felt a stab of fear that her granddaughter didn’t really think she was all that funny. She couldn’t bear to see herself as a typical gray-haired granny with one foot in the grave. Even if she was.

“So are you saying I should be sending this Steve a Hey there?”

“You have to start somehow. Ask him about his dog. Say, ‘I have a dog too. Maybe we should fix them up.’”

“Okay, I’ll attach a picture of Anax. Who could not fall in love with her little furry face?”

“So what are you really looking for? what was absolutely the best thing about your relationship with Grampa?”

“How much we laughed when we were together.”

“That’s not something you can find out from reading a profile. Or by asking a simple question like, ‘What kind of jokes do you like?’ You really have to meet them.”

“That’s my aim here.”

“Okay, give this Steve a try, and let me know what happens.” Ginny got up to leave. There still seemed to be two of her, or at least there were definitely two people visible. Virginia wasn’t entirely sure they were both the same, or even if they were both female. Their overall color was similar, but any of the clues she relied on to determine the sex were either unclear or missing. This puzzled her, because she had never felt Ginny’s vibes to be anything but girlish, and any talk about pronouns had previously been referring to other people. Surely the kid would confide in her if she discovered her inner self didn’t conform to her outer self? Virginia shifted her eyes, hoping to shake off the illusion, but it didn’t go away.

Fortunately she could still see well enough to read; bright light chased away the ambiguities. She pulled out her tablet to while away the time until she could brush her teeth and retire.