Cheating on Myself by Erin Downing Page A

people to take him seriously.
    James was younger than both Lily and I, but had somehow managed to charm his way to the top faster than a regular promotion schedule usually allowed. Even though he’d gotten married in a big, lavish ceremony only nine months before, Lily and I were certain he was sleeping with his boss, the frigid (and close-to-retirement) Chief Marketing Officer at Centrex. It was an interesting and disgusting pairing in every way. “The wife gets a little pesky when I meet up with them, since we all drink like twenty-somethings,” James laughed, as though his twenties were such a distant memory. He’d just celebrated his thirty-first birthday that July. “So…” James looked around, suddenly uncomfortable. “Lil, are you going to make it to our, uh, planning meeting tonight?”
    “I’ll be there.”
    “Fantastic. And Stella,” James pointed finger-guns at me and grinned. He had lettuce stuck between his first and second molar. “Keep up the brave face, got it?” James was gone as fast as he’d appeared.
    “What did that mean? Do you think he knows about me and Erik? Is he trying to weasel his way into my personal life?” I squirmed and stood up, thinking it best I get back to my desk. James wasn’t big on us loitering or chatting, even though they were two of his own favorite things to do.
    “Just his motivational crap,” Lily said, smiling. “Now go get back to work. And by work, I mean go back to your desk and fill out your online dating profile. You can submit it through me for approval before you make it public.” She gave me her Hardcore Lily stare. “Go, single girl, go!”
     
    * * *
     
    It wasn’t until the next night, when I got home before Anders, that I finally got the nerve up to check out an online dating site. “Welcome to our community!” I read on the first screen. I had offered up my junk email address, and hoped I wasn’t going to start getting even more spam. The emails offering me penis enhancements were already out of control, and now that they knew I was looking for love (or trolling for a decent date), I suspected they had some spambot readying all kinds of new offers for me. “What brings you here today?” The first screen featured an image of a happy couple, about my age, laughing on a sailboat. I hoped I wouldn’t have to go sailing on any first dates.
    I clicked the box that said, “Just exploring—I’m not sure if I’m ready to do this yet.” Huh. That was a pretty accurate description of my state-of-mind, actually. Usually, online forms were an irritating collection of bad answers.
    “Relationship status?” Never married.
    “Gender?” Didn’t I already answer this? I swear I had, but maybe they just wanted to make sure?
    “Seeking?” Men, ages… hmm. I might need to ask Lily or Anders about this. Twenty-six to forty? I briefly debated closing the dating service window immediately. I didn’t know what I was looking for. I couldn’t even pick the age of my future match.
    “Where should we search?” My new computer matchmaker asked me. I knew I didn’t want to date someone in the suburbs. I liked city guys. Right? I checked “within 10 miles” and moved on.
    Call me superficial, but I was also cautious and checked yes when they asked if I wanted to see only matches with photos. I wasn’t going to be fooled by some sixty-year-old letch, posing as a thirty-five-year-old, fishing for trophy wives. Need I worry about that? Agh! This was scary. Again, I debated closing the site, but instead clicked “next” to move on to the next page.
    As the next page loaded, I heard the front door open and I slammed my laptop closed. I’d been working at the dining room table, and didn’t want Anders to see what I was doing. It was so embarrassing.
    “What are you up to?” he asked, walking in and throwing his coat on the couch. In the few days we’d been living together, I had discovered Anders was a slob. He left his dishes around for days (or