A Short Story by Elise Clark
When you consider who you’ll date, it’s not often you factor names into the equation. I mean, sure, there’s the obvious: no “ J “names and no Ethans. But even that has always been more of a joke. I’ve met some great Ethans, and Jakes, and Jareds. I’ve also met a lot of Connors.
This is the story of my dating life. While it’s not entirely true, it is entirely awkward. And the awkwardness is real. Hi, I’m Margaret, and I’m twenty one and have still never had a boyfriend. “Tragic” is an understatement.
Being at college, it’s pretty much expected to date around. Unless you’re my family. They were all placing bets on how long I would stay single, most of them betting it would be at least five years until I found a boyfriend. Maybe it’s the competitive athlete in me, but I decided to prove them wrong.
My first week of school, I was walking to the science building past a big, grassy field with groups of students studying or laying out and tanning.
This guy saw me, waved, and ran up to me. He had swoopy black hair and glasses, and a boyish grin. “Hey! I know you!”
I stopped walking and faced him. “Hey.” I tucked my auburn hair behind my ear as the wind blew it into my face. I looked at him again, and as I saw his glasses slide down his nose something clicked. “Wait, yeah, I do know you! Liam?” (Side note: No, his name was not Connor. We’ll get there, be patient).
His face lit up at the mention of his name. “M-Meredith?”
I frowned slightly in response, beginning to shake my head.
“Wait, no, Margaret! I knew that.”
“It’s okay, it’s been a while.” I shrugged and smiled, shifting to the side as a frisbee blew past. “Outdoor school in sixth grade, right?”
He nodded. His face began to redden as he pulled out his phone with a sheepish grin, “Here, can I have your number?”
I looked around at the diminishing crowds as my heart tapped against my chest. He handed me his phone and my eyes widened in shock. “Oh. Sure.” I put my number in his contacts. This is how easy it was to find a date?
Yet I never went on a date with Liam. He texted me soon after, and I made some excuse and ghosted him. Because I’m an idiot.
But let’s talk about what you’re really here for. Two years into college, and I still hadn’t gone on a date. I mean, ever since I said no to Liam not one other man had asked me out. It kind of starts to make you wonder if there’s something wrong with you, you know?
Okay I’m really not trying to be all “woe is me,” I swear. But when you’re of the age where everyone has boyfriends (or is getting married, gag) you feel very, very alone. So alone that you have nothing to do with yourself besides picking up random hobbies to distract yourself. My latest one was knitting.
When you first walk into my room, it’s what you notice right away. Your mind would skip over my Taylor Swift posters, random paintings from a past hobby, and stacks of homework I should probably throw away at this point, and would go straight to the piles and piles of yarn. I had a bin full of blue, purple, green, and orange scarves that I made more than I wore. I had a hat stack, a sock stack, and even a pair of unfinished mittens I kept giving up on. My days were filled with school, saying bye to my roommates as they went on dates, knitting, and crying. Which is depressing, so moving on.
Luckily, or unfortunately, I complained to my roommates about my lack. We were sitting on our old, musty purple couch in our apartment—none of us liked the purple couch, but it’s what the building had—and the three of us leaned in together.
“Okay we’re getting you Hinge,” Cleo said decisively. Her blonde curls bounced as she nodded.
“Cleo.” I rolled my eyes. She had already grabbed my phone and was swiping it open.
“It’s okay, Margaret, I’ll get it too!” Gracie smiled, and pulled her phone out of her gray hoodie.
“Oh and we can all scroll together, it’ll be so fun!” Cleo said as she downloaded Hinge to my phone.
“You sure about that?” I asked, looking at Gracie and Cleo, who were both smiling.
“Hey, let me have my fun. I didn’t get Hinge before I met Kent,” Cleo faked a frown.
“We can see who gets a match first,” Gracie challenged, knowing I wouldn’t be able to say no. I sighed.
Ten minutes later, Gracie and I both had accounts prepared. We started with Gracie’s phone, and she held it and swiped while we crowded around and watched. We would also share our opinions, and tell her when she absolutely had to swipe or give someone a chance. When Gracie’s swipes were out, it was time for me. I realized it was a lot more fun to swipe for someone besides yourself: there were no stakes when it was another person’s life.
Before we had finished, the phone buzzed and the image “MATCH!” showed up on the screen.
“Who, who!” They shouted, leaning into me excitedly.
“His name is Connor.” I pulled open his profile. We scrolled through his age, interests, and quotes. He liked Taylor Swift too, and my heart jumped as I grinned.
“You should message him,” Cleo said.
“No way! I couldn’t.”
“Margaret, why not? Literally do it. He likes Taylor Swift,” Gracie grinned.
I sighed and sent him a message, heart pounding, asking what his favorite Taylor Swift song was in a way I hoped sounded smooth.
He responded pretty soon after that, and told me it was “Don’t Blame Me.” Which is a fantastic choice. I began to feel hopeful.
This is crazy, but there’s this pattern called the “Connor Scarf” and I immediately started the many hours of learning how to make one as I thought over and over again: Could he really want to go out with me?
Turns out, he didn’t. Or maybe karma had caught up with me, but he ghosted me pretty soon after that. And about a month later I deleted Hinge after many failed “matches.”
Four months after that, I wasn’t even at school. I was staying at my family’s house for the summer, feeling utterly and completely single. Gracie had already found a boyfriend who looked like a young Tom Felton, and she and Cleo were going on double dates throughout the summer. Cleo even got engaged to Kent, and couldn’t be happier. I had finished the “Connor scarf,” so we were all having an eventful time. Anyway, I was sitting at the dinner table when I got a text from Gracie on our group chat.
“MARGARET JANE TURNER.”
I left the table and opened Messages, wondering what she could possibly be talking about.
“Yes?” I typed.
“I just found your boyfriend.”
“Yeah he’s so cute,” Cleo added. “You’ll love him!”
I walked back to dinner with a huge grin on my face.
Turns out this guy was a redhead like me, with glasses and a sweet smile. He had knocked on our apartment door to ask if they’d be interested in a party he and his friends were planning. Gracie and Cleo had declined, but freaked out when the door shut.
When I returned to school, my friends were insistent on getting us to meet. The problem? We had no idea where he lived, his name, or where to contact him. There was no hope. That is, until Cleo and Kent went to their weekly dance night.
As Gracie and I were doing homework at the kitchen table, she began telling me about her latest date with Chad.
“Then he bought me five books I told him I wanted. Isn’t he just perfect?” She asked me.
I looked up from my computer and smiled somewhat genuinely, “You’re so lucky, Gracie.”
Both our phones buzzed simultaneously and we looked down. Cleo had texted our group chat.
“HE’S HERE! Margaret you should have come ahhh.”
My heart started to thud.
“You’re kidding! They have to talk to him,” Gracie said, eyes lighting up.
When Cleo and Kent came back, arm in arm, they told me all about it.
“I think we scared him,” Cleo laughed. “I ran up to him waving as if we were literally friends. He had no idea who I was. He was nice though.”
“Really?” I asked.
Kent nodded, “Yeah, he was nice. He said his name was Connor, I think.” He wrapped his arm around Cleo and kissed her before leaving.
At the time, I didn’t recognize the significance of his name. I hadn’t even remembered that the other man I showed interest in was also named Connor. I mean, twice is just a coincidence.
A week later, the boyfriends, or should I say boyfriend and fiancé, came to our apartment to watch “Stranger Things” with us girls. Kent was sitting with his arm around Cleo, and Gracie was already leaning into Chad as they smiled sappily at each other. Which left me sitting alone, hugging a pillow in between the happy couples.
As we were setting up the show, Kent sat up. “So, guess what,” he said, looking at all of us and waiting for our reaction. “Connor lives next door to me.”
“What!” Cleo shouted. “You have to be kidding me!”
“Did you talk to him?” Gracie asked.
Kent smirked, “Well I have his phone number. Should I invite him to play poker with us tomorrow?”
The girls said “YES” in unison.
I nodded and shrugged, feigning nonchalance as my face reddened.
***
As we were setting up for poker, there was a knock on the door and my stomach felt like it had switched places with my heart. I focused on breathing as he came into our apartment.
He looked at all of us, running his fingers through his red hair. “Hi, I’m Connor. Thanks for the invite!”
With Gracie and Chad already seated, and Cleo quickly taking her spot next to Kent, the only two seats were next to each other. Connor sat next to me.
Poker was fun. I nearly beat Connor, until he stole all my chips right at the end. Which made him the one to break my three-month long streak of winning.
After the game was done, we all talked for a while. He said he was a Cancer. Do you know what the most compatible sign to Cancer is? Taurus. My sign.
I loved talking with him, even if it made me nervous. I spent an entire three weeks pining after him, sitting next to him, talking to him, mentally begging for him to ask me out. I did make him a green Connor Scarf I gave to him for Christmas. I wonder if he thought that was weird.
Then I couldn’t handle it anymore.
For an entire week, I practiced my “speech” to him. I paced the floor as I read from my notes app about how I felt about him and how I wanted to go on a date. It was only three sentences, but it had to be perfect.
When I woke up it would be in a cold sweat with shaking hands, and each day I thought I would tell him I would chicken out. Then he moved.
I’m trying not to feel sad about that one, because it was my own fault we never dated. But when I learned he moved, the very same day I was totally, finally going to tell him, I was crushed.
But hey, the story’s not over. Let’s move on. I do have great friends, and they let me fifth wheel with them all the time. We would have dinner together, go to parties, and even play poker. The whole time I would try to avoid staring too long at them holding hands or hugging. Maybe I needed single friends, if not a boyfriend. If single people still existed, that is, I would think with an eye roll.
The next semester at school, one of my classes let me out early and I took the opportunity to try a new burrito place. It was extremely busy, and I took the last available table.
I pulled out my next scarf I was working on, ignoring the voice in my head reminding me that I had no space for yet another scarf I didn’t need. What I needed more than anything was a distraction from my pouting.
As I began knitting, this guy came up to me. The first thing I noticed was his prominent mustache, then I noticed his bright blue eyes. “Hey, can I sit here?”
I gestured to the table, “oh yeah, of course!”
He sat down, and asked me my name. I told him.
“What’s yours?”
“I’m Connor,” he said. The corner of my mouth twitched; not another Connor. “That looks really cool,” he pointed to my scarf.
I grinned. “Thank you! The pattern is called ‘Connor’ so that’s fitting.”
We talked, and though I was nervous I hid it well. I think. Each time he laughed at my jokes I felt a swell of pride inside me—I mean, I think I’m funny—and I really could see this going somewhere.
When the clock reached 2:00 p.m. I started to grab my scarf, oversized leather jacket, and swung my backpack over my shoulder, attempting to bite back my disappointment. “Sorry, I have a class to get to! I need to head out.”
“That’s okay, me too,” he followed me to the door, and even held it open. I tried to hide my smile.
He walked me the fifteen minutes to my class as we continued to talk. The entire time I had the same question swirling in my mind, mixed with “wimp” which was rude of my subconscious to say. Eventually, I couldn’t take it anymore and smoothly whipped out, finally: “Do you want to, um, you’re number?” I paused in embarrassment. “What’s your phone number?” I may as well just die on the spot.
“Oh, I’m so sorry, I have a girlfriend!” He looked down at me sympathetically.
We both stood there awkwardly for some time. “Okay. Oh. Um, bye.” During the entire next class I sat there turning over my third Connor experience. The name was starting to feel cursed.
Now I’m 21 and feeling very, extremely lonely. So what is there to do—besides making scarfs, that is? I redownload my arch-nemesis, Hinge.
After hundreds of swipes, I matched. With whom, might you ask? Connor. Gag.
And no, not any of the Connors I had previously met. This one was new. He was tall, interested in similar topics, and seemed really nice. Who cares if the name might be cursed? This one was different, I convinced myself. I messaged him first—or, rather, Cleo made me message him first—and he messaged right back.
We talked for a few days before he asked me out. This was it, it was finally happening! A date, and I didn’t even have to be the one to awkwardly ask. The day of, I was shaking with anticipation. I didn’t even have the time to knit if I wanted to, which is unheard of in my boring, lonely life. My stomach was swirling and nauseous as I paced my apartment. Chad and Gracie had helped me clean, their googly eyes and loving gazes not helping my nausea.
The plan was to watch Inception, one of my favorite movies, at my apartment. Riveting, I know, and I did most of the planning. And Connor was twenty four minutes late.
I checked my phone again: nothing. My hands and limbs were shaking, and I silently wondered if I should have eaten more than half a sandwich.
My phone buzzed and I read Connor’s text: “Is your apartment the one with the pink wreath?”
I typed “yeah!” And stood there waiting for him to knock. And waited. Suddenly the door rattled with his knock. I jumped up and answered. He stepped in the door with a smile, towering over me.
“Hi,” I start.
“Hi.”
We walked over to the couch, and sat down.
“I hope these cookies are okay,” I started, handing him one I made just for tonight—I needed this man, or any man, really, to like me. “The change in altitude made it a little hard to figure it out.”
“Well, yeah. The altitude here is 1400. So that would be hard. Mine back home is 273. What’s yours?” He leaned back and put his feet, with shoes, on the coffee table I had just washed.
I furrowed my brows. “Oh, do people usually know the altitude?”
“Well I know. I just like to learn things and know things.”
“Oh, well that’s nice.”
“Yeah, some people struggle with that.” I widened my eyes with concern on what he might say next as he continued, “Some people are just dumb or unable to learn things.”
“Oh.” I honestly did not know what to say to that. But, hey, he was nice. Right? He had only made fun of me a few times in the first thirty minutes or so of talking.
Then we sat in silence. He looked at me expectantly, as if waiting for me to ask him another question.
“So, should we start the movie?” I asked.
He shook his head, insulted. “Are you done talking to me?”
I leaned back, “I mean, do you have anything else to talk about?”
“Do you have any more questions?” He looked at me, waiting for me to steer the conversation yet again.
I sighed, “That’s a great question.”
Connor started bursting out laughing. “You’re hilarious!” He playfully hit me on the shoulder, and I swear it was hard enough to give me a bruise the next day.
I shrugged, hardly smiling. “I don’t even have to try.”
The movie was much longer than I remembered once it finally started. To make matters worse? He didn’t leave when it ended.
Cleo texted from her own date soon after the movie ended, asking me how the date went. I looked at my phone longingly, but wouldn’t text her with him leaning over my shoulder nosily.
When it hit 11:30, I tried to remind him again that I needed him to leave so I could actually get some sleep before my class early the next morning. “It was good having you,” I dragged on to say. He didn’t budge. Well, he did lean into me more. Not what I was going for.
When it hit 11:40, I tried to drop the hint again. “Yeah, some girls in our apartment were complaining about guys staying past midnight.”
“That’s rude,” he said and left it at that.
We talked about music, his career ambitions, and why he’s the coolest of his friend group. Did you know he knew the school’s President’s son?
When it hit 11:50, I was quite done. I stood up and walked towards the door. “I don’t mean to kick you out, but I have to get ready for bed before my early morning tomorrow.”
He slowly followed me up, and eventually grabbed his things. He asked me on a second date, and not knowing how to answer I said sure. I had no intentions of going on that second date.
I closed the door while he was saying bye, and immediately sank to the floor.
A few moments later, I grunted and stood up. Who was I to be this dramatic about some stupid boy? I stomped to my room and picked up all of my Connor Scarves, needles, hats, and gloves, and I threw them all away. I wanted nothing to do with them anymore. I started researching a new hobby to start. Perhaps I’d finally open my watercolors, or even try my hand at baking. Whatever it is, it’ll be better than knitting.
Comments