Not My Type by Melanie Jacobson Page A

he must have shown up at my apartment after they’d bombed at the competition and batted his eyelashes at me and I took him back. “Yeah, don’t worry about the thousands of dollars your parents dropped on the wedding.” He maybe didn’t use that exact argument, but it was close. And I went along with it. Because I didn’t know how not to be “Landon-and-Pepper.”
    Clearly, I didn’t have the necessary life experience to know what to expect from casual dating. Most of my “dating” had been in high school, and that was more like a bunch of girls and guys hanging out. Anyone holding hands was classified as “going out.”
    This LDS Lookup thing was big-girl dating, involving getting-to-know-you conversations and possibly table manners. In a way, I was glad this first date had happened so quickly because I had little time to stress out about it. Tonight, I was going out with Brent, better known as Snow_Junkie on LDS Lookup. I had set up my account Monday afternoon after a call from Ellie, who welcomed me onboard. I had no idea what I was supposed to put in my profile, even after reading through all the Internet dating how-tos in the Real Salt Lake archives, but I did pay extra close attention to the advice for staying safe when meeting someone that you’ve only known online. Not that it was going to make my mom feel any better . . .
    “Don’t take this wrong, but I’m surprised you got a date so quick,” Ginger said. “Did you see a picture of this guy? Is he ugly or something?”
    I turned away from the closet to face her. “Geez, Ginger. Is there a right way to take that?”
    “Not nice,” Rosemary said, wagging a finger at Ginger. “Anyone would want to go out with Pepper. She’s pretty and sweet.”
    Ah, seven-year-olds. So clueless, and yet I still loved my littlest sister’s fierce loyalty. “Thanks, peanut,” I said.
    “I’m just saying, it can’t be normal to join a dating website on a Monday and have a date in five days.” Ginger hopped up and whisked the Mumford and Sons concert T-shirt out of my hand. “You can’t wear this. Band T-shirts are tacky for a first date.”
    I snatched it back. “I know that. I meant to grab the shirt next to it.” I pulled out a smoky blue knit top with a cool flower appliqué winding from one shoulder down across the chest. “This will work for a casual first date, right?” I asked, thrusting it toward Ginger.
    She held it up to study it, her head cocked. “For a soccer game? Yes. Shoes?”
    In answer, I dug out a pair of black canvas ballet flats. She nodded.
    Satisfied, I changed into the outfit, glad I could wear jeans. A blind date would be miserable enough without having to dress up in something uncomfortable.
    I sifted through my jewelry in search of a pair of beaded earrings I had picked up last year at the Park City Arts Festival and responded to Ginger’s earlier doubt. “I have no idea if it’s normal to get a date online so fast. All I know is that I posted my picture on Tuesday and I got three e-mails by the next day. Maybe that’s a lot, or maybe it’s pathetic. I don’t know.” I also didn’t know how normal it was to go from first e-mail to first date in less than a week, but since my goal wasn’t to form a long-term relationship, there was no reason to have a big buildup before a first date. Why not go out early in the whole process? Actually, there wouldn’t be a process. Just first dates. A whole string of first dates.
    Gah.
    I had no idea how many of these I would have to go through before I could move on to writing other stuff for the magazine, and it depressed me to think about it. So I didn’t.
    I fastened the second earring and turned around for inspection. Rosemary clapped. “Pretty!”
    “You’ll do,” Ginger said, like it was painful to admit. Seventeen-year-olds are way more of a pain than seven-year-olds. “Besides, this guy is ugly, right? I’m sure he’s happy to even have a date at all.”
    I rolled my