Lonely Hearts & Broken Parts (LBSC #1.2) | Complete

Chapter 3

On Sunday I didn't leave my apartment. I spent the majority of the day locked in my bedroom staring at a blank sheet of paper resting in my typewriter while Claire entertained her sketchy boyfriend in the living room. One would think my angst and latest dating snafu would make for great writing fodder, especially since "they" say "write what you know," but I just couldn't bring myself to put the words to paper.

Monday rolled around before I knew it, and I found myself answering emails bright and early at work. Working in IT wasn't my end goal, but I made great money and I was good at it, so there we were.

I was just dashing a text off to my oldest sister, Stephanie, about her computer issues, when Benjamin Tarver rolled in a chair from his cubicle to mine. He was my closest friend at work, despite the fact that he seemed to think he was a man from the projects trapped in a suburban boy's body. With a job like mine, I needed some comedic relief, and Tarver provided that. Tarver stretched out in the chair with his hands clasped behind his head. "Yo, Malcolm. Did you see that note on the fridge?"

When I'd heard Tarver rolling my way, I'd planned to stare at my computer screen as if thoroughly engrossed in my work so that he'd leave me alone. But even though I was a low-maintenance guy, I couldn't resist the ridiculous and unnecessary drama our workplace provided.

"What did it say? Did the Babybel Bandit strike again?" I asked.

Tarver smirked in satisfaction that he'd garnered my attention. "Even better. Look at this."

Tarver rolled closer and thrust his phone in front of me.

On the screen was a picture of a neon orange sticky note covered in thick, black cursive. I read the note out loud. "I don't know your name, but someone saw you steal my cream cheese. Put it back in the fridge, or I will lick everything. And I mean everything. Even the stuff I don't like."

"Well, obviously Autumn wrote the note because it's her handwriting. I think the cream cheese crook is Dustin. He always brings those dry-ass English muffins and eats them with butter. Maybe he ran out of butter and saw the cream cheese so he decided to use that?"

"Hmm, possibly. Did you add it to the blog?"

"Of course," Tarver said.

Passive-aggressive notes and petty micro-aggressions were aplenty at Wyndlake IT & Tech Solutions. Mutual dismay at our coworkers' immature behavior was actually what brought Tarver and I together. I'd recently come up with the idea of documenting the craziness on the Web in the form of a blog called My Fluorescent Nightmare. It'd started out as just an inside joke between the two of us, but soon enough our little project was collecting more and more hits each day. Thankfully, no one at Wyndlake IT knew about it.

"Anyway, that's not really why I came over here." Tarver grinned and rubbed his hands. "What about that chick you were going out with this weekend? What was her name? Janet? Jill?"

I sighed and turned back to my computer screen.

Tarver groaned. "Again? What was it this time?"

"Her name is Julia. And we had nothing in common," I said to the screen.

Tarver reached forward and spun my chair around so that it was facing him.

"Are you both humans?" he asked.

I inclined my head and glared at him.

"Were you both breathing?" he continued.

"Obviously."

"Then that's all you need!" Tarver asked.

I pulled Tarver's hands off the arms of the chair and kicked away. "Maybe that's all you need, but I need a little more."

"Dude, you've got three sisters, so you know what girls want. And you're not that ugly. How come you can't close the deal? "

"If I knew, I wouldn't be the King of First Dates," I said, turning back to my desk. "Wanna know the best part of my weekend? I went to my godson's birthday party, and this little kid interrogated me about why I'm single."

Tarver slapped a palm over his eyes. "Please tell me you didn't let a five year-old clown you, bro."

"She was six."

Tarver slid the hand down over his face and blinked at me. "Did you at least clap back?"

I stared at him, incredulous. "On a six year-old?"

He shrugged. "If she can dish it, she can take it."

"Tarver, sometimes I think you're from another planet."

"I'll take that as a compliment," he said, spinning his chair around. He stopped and planted his feet. "Valentine's Day is coming up in just a couple weeks. You need a valentine. Scratch that--you need to get laid."

I pretended to rummage in the bottom drawer of my desk so Tarver wouldn't see how red my face was. I couldn't imagine what he would say if he ever found I was still a virgin at the age of twenty-six.

"I can give you a few tried and true tips to help you out," Tarver said. He pretended to buff his fingernails on his chest.

I lifted my head. "I don't think that's necessary--"

"First tip: girls like jerks."

"Um--"

"Be a jerk. Jerks put themselves out there and they approach women often," Tarver explained. "Do you do anything besides work?"

"I write...and I hang out with Reese and Claire when they're not hanging out with their boyfriends."

"Jesus, Malcolm. You're cockblocking yourself--"

Arthur McGinty, our boss, popped up over my cubicle wall as if he'd just shot up from underground. He'd been in the Marines and ran our department as if he were still in the military. "Tarver, I assume you're finished with the software deployment proposal for Wyndlake Medical?"

"Uh, no, sir--" Tarver spluttered.

"Save the fraternizing for lunch, and get on it. We've got a big meeting with them this afternoon," Arthur boomed.

"Yes, sir," Tarver said. He kicked his feet out from the ground and sailed toward his desk.

Arthur nodded at me and strolled away. He had gone only a couple of feet when he turned on one foot and paused.

"Just for the record, Tarver's an idiot. Girls don't like jerks." Without another word, he strolled away.

As the sting of embarrassment faded away, I thought more about what Tarver had said. Arthur was right, Tarver was definitely an idiot, but Tarver was kind of on to something. I'd always been a cautious person, never putting myself out there or trying new experiences where I could meet people. I'd stumbled onto the few friends I actually had, and any date I went out with was a friend of my sisters', or a blind date with one of my mom's friends' daughters.

I pulled out my phone and started searching for an app that might help me break out of my shell. I wasn't sold on online dating, but I could get my feet wet by finding friends or new activities. I paused when I came across an app called YOLO.

You only live once, why not get it right the first time? the app's description read. YOLO brings people together to seize the day and explore their common interests. You only get one chance--step out of your comfort zone and make it count.

Perfect. YOLO might not get me a date, but at the very least I could practice approaching women and find some more friends. I downloaded the app and promised myself that I'd find an event go to within the week.