The Oracle Rebounds (13 page)

Later, as I’m riding the subway home, I’m wondering how many guys Tracey will have to date before she finds Mr. Right. I suppose that the more she dates, the higher her chance of finding the one for her. I feel a blog brewing. When I get in the door, I run upstairs to my room.

The More Dates, the Merrier?

Is the person who goes on fifty dates a year closer to meeting “the one” than the person who goes on five? Many singles believe that the answer is yes. The more bets they have on the table, the more likely they are to win.

Statistically, the Oracle agrees. And yet how can so many people be going on so many dates that are all misses?

Perhaps it’s the thought that goes into placing the chips on the table that matters. Perhaps two or three well-placed bets are more effective than fifty random ones.

But how do you place those bets and win?

That’s the million-dollar question.

The Oracle wants to know what you think. Which option best describes your philosophy of dating?

• 1.
  The more dates, the better. You’ve got to put yourself out there.
  
• 2.
  It’s quality not quantity. You shouldn’t have to date a lot to find the one you’re looking for. It’s all about how well you choose who to date.
  

I post the poll online, and within two days, I can see that the results are fairly split: sixty percent for number one, forty percent for number two. To me, these results aren’t conclusive.

Perhaps it’s simply a combination of the two—dating often, and choosing wisely.

When I hear about the house party on Saturday night, I’m a little reluctant to go. My last house party is one experience I’d like to forget. But, hey, am I going to let that stop me from having a good time? I wouldn’t give Greg the satisfaction.

Viv is willing to go but, at the last minute, backs out when Sandeep calls her “in crisis.” I take the bus with Amy and Ryan. Sharese is going to meet us there with Zink. Normally Chad would be with us, but he’s on a week-long soccer tour in upstate New York. Amy doesn’t mind. Her primary concern is getting ahold of some alcohol and getting the party started.

“That’s all you brought?” Amy complains when Ryan reveals the bottle of rye he swiped from his parents’ liquor cabinet. “Didn’t they have a bigger bottle than that? That won’t go far between three people.”

“This was all I could get. If it’s not enough, you can bum stuff off someone else. I’m sure that won’t be hard.”

“You’re right…it won’t be.” Amy bats her eyelashes.

“I won’t be having any,” I say.

Amy frowns. “Why not?”

“Don’t feel like it.”

“Good, more for me!”

When we get to the party, it’s just after ten. The venue, a Ditmas Avenue town house, has wall-to-wall carpeting and wall-to-wall sweaty bodies. I don’t mind, because I hate walking into parties when there’s hardly anybody there.

We head straight for the kitchen, where Ryan makes rye and Cokes in plastic cups. I help myself to some O.J. from the fridge. Then we go to the den and squish in with everyone. The music is so loud we can barely talk, but it doesn’t matter because I’m enjoying the eye candy walking by.

I spot Sharese looking for us and wave her over. “Where’s Zink?”

“Something came up…a family thing.”

I can tell she’s lying. Did they have a fight? Whatever it is, she’s not volunteering any information.

Ryan and Amy don’t seem to notice that anything is wrong. We’re joined by a couple of jocks Amy has attracted. Both are cute and charming and remind me of that loser, Greg, so I keep my distance.

I discreetly ask Sharese, “Are you okay? Want to find some place to talk?”

She nods. I follow her into the kitchen, where she pushes some empty beer bottles aside and sits on the counter.

“Did you have a fight with Zink?”

“I wish. I did a terrible thing.”

“What?”

“I told him I was staying home tonight. I hate lying, but I can’t stand the thought of hanging around with him. I’ve been trying to give him a chance, focus on all the good qualities he has. But I’m not interested in him. I don’t even like him.”

“That’s not a crime. I guess you’ll have to find a way to break it to him.”

“How can I do that? I’m the only girlfriend he’s ever had
and he’s totally in love with me. The whole church thinks we’re the perfect couple!”

At that moment, Ryan walks into the kitchen. “Why’d you guys take off on me like that?” He looks at each of us. “Is something wrong?”

“I’m upset because I’m not feeling anything for Zink…except irritation,” Sharese says.

I nod. “She has to break up with him.”

Ryan is in shock. “You can’t break up with transplant boy!”

“I want to, but whenever I try, he goes on about how much he loves me. And then he says he’s scared his medication will stop working and his body will reject his heart.”

“That’s outright manipulation!” I say. “He can’t guilt you into staying with him!”

“That’s exactly what he’s been doing. And I’ve let him get away with it.”

“Give the guy a break,” Ryan says. “You can’t blame him for wanting to hang on to what he has. He’s come so close to losing everything in the past.”

I glare at him. “You’re just making her feel worse.”

Sharese turns to me. “See? Everyone thinks I’m the best thing that’s ever happened to him. The problem is, I find him more annoying every day!”

“Maybe there’s a way to get him to dump you,” Ryan suggests.

“I’ve already tried that. Sometimes I’m a total bitch to him. But he doesn’t seem to care. He’s just happy to be with me.”

“You’re not doing him any favors if you stay with him out of pity,” I say.

“I think he’s happy to accept my pity.”

“Okay, maybe he is, but you have to free yourself from him. It’s not emotionally healthy.”

“You sound like Oprah,” Ryan says.

Or the Oracle,
I don’t say.

“I guess the longer I wait,” Sharese admits, “the worse it’ll be when I finally break up with him.”

“Exactly. I know it’s hard, but it’s the right thing to do.” I give her a hug.

“Where’s Viv, anyway?” she asks. “She told me she was coming.”

“One word,” Ryan replies, “Sandeep.”

“She said he called her really upset about something,” I tell Sharese. “She thought she’d better see him.”

“Are you serious? He always does that to her. What a drama king. He’s as bad as Zink!”

“Zink only has
one
girlfriend, as far as we know,” Ryan says. “I thought Sandeep promised to break up with that girl by now. Didn’t the sister’s wedding already happen?”

I shrug. “It’s been more than a month. Viv hasn’t said any more about it, and I didn’t want to put her on the spot.”

“If this goes on much longer, we may have to do an intervention,” Ryan says.

The Oracle clicks awake. Relationship intervention, huh? I like that idea. If loved ones intervene for drug and alcohol problems, why not for bad relationships? I make a mental note to write a blog on it sometime.

We go back into the den to chill. Amy is still drinking beer with one of the jocks.

And Jared is sitting on the couch with Chelsea Yang.

Our eyes meet. His are very blue and very surprised to see me here.

My instincts scream
retreat!
and I back out of the room. Ryan and Sharese, seeing the situation, come with me to the basement, where a bunch of people are drinking and dancing.

Sharese is beside herself with bitchiness. “What’s he doing here? He never goes to parties!”

“But Chelsea does,” Ryan says.

I guess he’d do anything for his new girlfriend. She obviously has more influence over him than I ever did.

“It’s no big deal, guys. Let’s just dance.”

They agree, though they seem surprised that I don’t want to engage in a bitch-fest. People are dancing in the cramped space between two couches and a TV. It’s dark and crowded, more a mosh pit than a dance floor. I don’t care. I go wild to the music.

But my thoughts are chasing me. All of this talk about Sharese feeling too guilty to dump Zink makes me wonder how long Jared wanted to dump me before he actually did. Was he unhappy for weeks, even months? When I told him I loved him, was he cringing inwardly?

Damn it, somewhere along the line I stopped playing hard to get and made him the center of my life. That will never happen again. Sure, I will like a guy again. I will love again. But I will never let him know just how much I am devoted to him—unless we’re married, of course.

We dance for a while, and manage to bum beers off a kid who is too drunk to care. I drink half a beer, get a little buzz going, and pass it off to Ryan. I know my limit.

Eventually we’re all feeling tired, so Sharese calls her mom for a pick up.

“Let’s find Amy,” Ryan says.

We go back to the den, but Amy is nowhere to be found. Jared is still on the couch with Chelsea. I can tell he’s drunk. His eyes are glassy. For the first time, I don’t feel a rush of longing when I see him. He looks rather pitiful.

I walk up to him. “Have you seen Amy?”

“I think she went upstairs with that guy.”

“Are you serious?”

“They were making out pretty heavy,” Chelsea butts in, “so I told them to get a room.”

“Why’d you do that?” Ryan demands. “She was drunk, and she has a boyfriend!”

“Amy conveniently forgot about that,” Chelsea says. “She does what she wants to do, and it looks like she wants to
do
a lot.”

We don’t bother to reply, and head upstairs to find her. I’ll knock on some bedroom doors if I have to.

But in the end, we find Amy on the landing on Bill Cohen’s lap, giggling and stroking his face. She gives a big smile. “What’s up, guys?”

“My mom’s coming to pick us up,” Sharese says. “That includes you.”

“Okay, cool,” she slurs, “I’m getting tired anyway.” She kisses Bill on the lips. “Nice chilling with you, baby.”

“Same here.” He pats her ass as she climbs off his lap.

We all go outside to wait on the front steps. As soon as we close the door behind us, I blurt out, “What were you doing with him, Amy? What about Chad?”

“Chad’s a sweetie.” She yawns and puts her head on my shoulder. “I’m sleepy.”

“More likely drunk,” I mutter.

61 Days into Rebound Equation

I call up Amy at 11:30 a.m. and ask if she wants to meet for brunch.

“Sure, I need some greasy food,” she says. “But if you want to chew me out or something, could you do it quietly, because I’ve got a headache.”

“I’m not going to chew you out, but I think we should talk.”

“Yeah, yeah. Can we go to Rocky’s?”

We meet there at 12:30. She’s looking a little rough, though I can see she took the time to shower, put on mascara and a comfy leisure suit with matching pink sneakers. We order the Big Breakfasts, complete with eggs, bacon, home fries and baked beans. Amy leans back into the padded booth. “Go to it, Kayla. Say what you have to say. I can see it bubbling inside you.”

“Chad is such a nice guy. I don’t understand why you’d disrespect him by making out with Bill.”

Amy shrugs before taking a sip of orange juice. “Chad
won’t find out. And even if he does, he’ll get over it. I never promised him I’d be faithful.”

“Don’t you think he assumes you are?”

“He can assume what he wants. I wouldn’t lie to the guy. I’m not like that.”

“Just because you’re not lying doesn’t mean you’re being honest.”

“I see your point, but I’m only sixteen once. I think I’m entitled to have some fun. Sure, it’s nice having a boyfriend, but it’s not like I’m married or anything. I think you and the others take the whole relationship thing too seriously.”

I open my mouth to contradict her, but the stats I know about teen dating flash before my eyes. Teen relationships are unlikely to last into your twenties.

So why do we take our relationships so seriously?

“No offense, but you and Jared acted like a married couple. Rather lame, if you ask me. All you did was get takeout and rent movies. You weren’t as much fun when you were with him.”

“I had fun.” And where did that relationship get me but dumped? “Well, maybe I took it a little too seriously.”

“You sure did. Think of how many opportunities you missed by being all about Jared! You never would’ve met that French guy if you hadn’t broken up when you did, and he was only the beginning. Who knows what else is coming your way? Now is the time to play the field. My mom says I shouldn’t settle down anytime soon.”

I’m not sure that her mom would want her making out with random guys behind Chad’s back, but it makes sense that she wouldn’t want her to get too committed at this age. Mom and Erland had been concerned that Jared and I were getting too serious. Maybe everyone else was far smarter than I was.

“Let’s face it, Kayla. Guys our age are so immature. If we
want something permanent, we’ll be disappointed. Chad loves me, sure, but he probably loves his Xbox just as much.”

The more I listen to Amy, the more I understand what she’s saying, and the more disillusioned I become.

Is it a mistake for teens to take their relationships seriously?

I consider this question for the rest of the day, even while I’m watching
Glamour Girl
with my friends that night. By the time we’re finished, I hurry home to write a blog.

Is Fidelity Pointless for Teens? (In which the Oracle has a crisis of conscience)

Whatever happened to the days of dating for the sake of seeing what’s out there? These days, just dating hardly ever happens among teens. If two people get along and go out more than once, they are usually considered a couple.

In our parents’ generation, it was called
going steady,
and it was taken seriously, since some people actually got married out of high school. But
going steady
was usually an agreement that was formalized by one person asking the other: “Do you want to go steady?”

Today, becoming a couple seems to happen automatically, whether you’re ready for it or not. And
going out
implies that you will be faithful.

Whatever happened to dating to get to know a broad range of people?

The Oracle asks you to consider: is it healthy to bind yourself to one person when you are a teen, even though the odds are low that you will marry your high school crush?

Of course, dating several people at a time can be complicated. If you really like one of your dates, you might only want to be with that person. And that’s the problem here—if you really like someone, you won’t want to see them date other people and you won’t want to yourself.

One reason fidelity is important is that many teens these days are having sex. If you’re having sex, you naturally want your partner to be faithful to you, not least because of the risk of STDs.

So that leads to the question: should teens really be having sex? Shouldn’t they wait until they are older and have more stable, committed relationships?

I think teens should ask themselves if they’re getting too serious too soon and closing off other avenues of opportunity.

Sincerely,

The Oracle of Dating

I post the blog. Then I wait. I have a feeling this will be one of my most controversial blogs yet.

Within ten minutes, I get my first comment.

You don’t know what you’re talking about, Oracle! You don’t sound like a teen, because if you were, you’d know that we can be as faithful and loving as any adults. Probably more! You should stop preaching at us. I bet you’ve never been laid anyway!

—Sheri, Atlanta, GA

She’s right about one thing: I haven’t been laid.

Over the next hour, I get a lot more comments. Obviously the teenmoi controversy really did increase traffic on my site. A debate starts in the comment section on whether teens should be having sex, which is funny considering the blog wasn’t focused on that in the first place.

Although the debate is exciting, it’s past eleven, and time for bed. I’m about to shut down the computer when an IM pops up.

InvisibleBassist: Hi, Kayla. Sorry to bug you this late. I wanted to say I’m sorry for what Chelsea said about Amy. She’s very opinionated.

HelloImAGirl: Did she ask you to apologize to me?

InvisibleBassist: Yeah, after I told her she was out of line.

HelloImAGirl: It’s not a big deal. I have a new perspective on Amy’s cheating anyway.

InvisibleBassist: Really?

HelloImAGirl: Yeah. Why do we assume that teens have to be faithful and stick with one person at a time? I’m starting to think the idea is outdated.

InvisibleBassist: You can’t be serious.

HelloImAGirl: I’ve broadened my perspective. I wrote a blog about it. You should read it.

InvisibleBassist: I will.

HelloImAGirl: Anyway, you can tell Chelsea not to worry.

InvisibleBassist: Cool. BTW Chelsea and I aren’t going out. She’s just a friend.

HelloImAGirl: You don’t need to clarify things for me. It’s none of my business.

InvisibleBassist: Okay. Well, good talking to you.

HelloImAGirl: Bye, Jared.

InvisibleBassist: Bye.

Weird, but when we close the conversation, I don’t feel lost or let down. I actually feel…cool with things.

Could it be that I’m actually getting over him?

I glance at my calendar. According to my rebound equa
tion, I’m supposed to be out of the rebound period as of tomorrow.

I lean back in my chair, a smile on my face.

Cafés—the perfect solution for the unathletic (like me), and for those who can’t afford to shop every weekend because of insufficient cash flow (like me).

Here I am, sitting at the oddly named Coffee Café sipping my latte and realizing that I am by far the youngest person here. An old man is sketching me and it’s weirding me out. I can hardly concentrate on
Women Who Run with the Wolves,
my attempt at reading something feminist.

Across the room, a bad date is going on. I wonder if they met online. The body language, at least on the guy’s part, is totally standoffish. You don’t need a Desmond Morris book on the human animal to see that. His eyes are wandering over the room and he’s barely doing his part in the conversation. At one point he gets up and doesn’t come back for ten minutes. When he returns, he’s on his cell phone. You can practically see the steam coming out her ears. She says she has to go and quickly leaves—good, leave him in the dust, baby!

There’s a thirtyish guy sitting behind a chess board trying to get someone to play with him. He asks an Arab guy, but his girlfriend doesn’t want to part with him. I’d volunteer, but I’m not very good at chess and wouldn’t be worthy competition.

The old man finishes his sketch and shows it to me. It’s awful, but I tell him it’s good. He smiles, but doesn’t offer to give it to me. He flips the page and starts sketching someone else.

I scan the room. It’s far more interesting observing people than reading this boring book. I study the couples and make a few notes about body language and what it says about a relationship. I’ll have to blog on it sometime.

Uh-oh. My eyes lock with the chess guy.
Play?
he mouths.

I shake my head.
I’m not very good.

Who cares?
He waves me over.

Okay, fine. I pick up my stuff and sit on the chair on the opposite side of the chess board.

“What’s your name?”

“Kayla.”

“Josef.” He’s got a strong accent.

“Where are you from, Josef?”

“Romania. You are a student?”

“High school student, yeah.” Just in case he’s wondering if I’m older than I look—just to clarify that I’m not. “What about you?”

“I am an engineer.” He moves his pawn.

I make a move, and then he does. It’s my turn again.

“Are you sure?” he asks.

“Huh?” I’m holding my pawn midair.

He looks down at the board. “Are you sure you want to do that?”

It takes me several seconds to see that I was practically begging his bishop to kill my pawn.

“Oops. I don’t want to do that.”

He smiles. He’s actually not a bad-looking man. If he’d get his eyebrows tweezed, he’d be cute.

I make a good move. I know it’s a good move because he nods approvingly.

He makes another move.

I’m about to move my knight but he gives me a
don’t-do-it
look so I put it back down and move a pawn. I know I’m supposed to approach the game with a strategy of some sort, but all I can think of is that I’m playing chess in a random café with a random older guy and I hope he doesn’t secretly want to marry me and bring me back to Romania.

Soon I realize this will be a very short game even though he’s helping me. Too bad he believes muttering “Think” will help.

A cute blond guy comes up, smacks Josef on the shoulder and starts speaking to him in another language. I’m taking a wild guess it’s Romanian.

He looks at me curiously. “Sorry to intrude on your game.” He speaks English like he was born here.

“No probs.” I reach up to shake his hand. “I’m Kayla.”

“Mikhail.”

Mikhail. Michaela. It must be destiny!

I can’t help but notice that he is not only very cute but around my age. He pulls up a chair and looks down at the board. “Who’s winning?”

“Him,” I say. “I don’t stand a chance.”

“You are a good learner,” Josef says.

“You’re a good liar.”

We laugh. Mikhail has a loud happy laugh, and it makes me laugh more. I wish I could stay alive in the game longer because Mikhail and I have started getting to know each other. He tells me he’s a junior at MLK high school. “Checkmate.”

I shake Josef’s hand and pick up my stuff.

“Wait—you two can play,” Josef says. “Mikhail is a beginner also.”

I know I should object, since Mikhail obviously came here to play with Josef. But if he’s not objecting…

“Beginner or not, you’ll probably kick my ass, too.” Then I wonder if I should use more refined language with this guy, since I’m trying to impress him.

But Mikhail laughs that great laugh. “We’ll see, won’t we?”

A couple of minutes into the game it becomes obvious that a) Mikhail is not really a beginner and b) Josef has deliberately set us up. I mean, Josef is now reading a book and ignoring us.