Beth reviewed her stereotypes list: Greater size and
strength, goal-oriented, often highly ambitious, etc., etc.
It seemed to pretty much sum up the major male stereotypes
as she knew them, omitting universal truths like men's
bizarre predilection toward big tools and bigger
remote-control devices.
She set down her pen. She was armed and ready for today's
coffee "date" and planned to find as much direct, supporting
evidence as she could for each point in the few minutes she
and Will would spend together. She hoped she could pull this
off.
Somehow she managed to get Charlie to kindergarten, do a
morning's worth of work at the agency and arrive at the
Koffee Haus right on time.
The scent of warm, roasted coffee beans enticed her nostrils
even before she made it through the doorway. The singles'
bar of this century had cinnamon shakers and skim milk
pitchers on the counter instead of vodka jiggers and salty
peanuts, but the idea was unchanged.
A pair of lanky guys leaned against the counter waiting for
their orders to be ready. Neither of them looked anything
like Will's website photograph. Where was he?
A small table opened up near the door and Beth leaped for
it. She slid into the chair and began casing the room.
Mostly couples or small groups of friends. A dark-haired man
in his early thirties sat alone with a newspaper. His back
was to her so she leaned to the left to try to catch a
glimpse of his face. It could be him. Might be.
She leaned a little further but before she could see him she
felt that roller-coaster dip in her stomach and lost her
balance—hands swiping the floor, chair scraping
awkwardly. Very smooth move.
The guy turned to stare at her. So did everyone else. She
readjusted herself and tried to bury her head in her purse.
That looked like him. Close enough to the photo anyway to
make her pretty sure. He had to think she was a klutz.
When she looked up, he was staring at her again. An
assessing glance. Yep. The game was over before it had a
chance to begin. Something about him struck her as odd,
though. His email personality was so warm, so charming. This
guy—well, arrogant seemed to be a better descriptor.
She wondered what he'd do now. Ditch her? She grabbed her
stereotypes list from her purse, scanning it covertly in
case he worked up the nerve to come over before she
approached him. A glimpse at her watch told her it was
already ten minutes past one. When she looked back at his
table, he was gone.
She sighed. Not good. Her final project was due in a few
weeks, and she needed to cite concrete examples of Case
Study #1's behavior, documented and dated over a period of
thirty days. She didn't have time to start again with a new
subject...and Charlie's future was at stake. She stood to go.
"So, are you the woman Lady Catherine thinks I'm destined
for?" a deep voice with a laugh hidden in it whispered in
her ear. She swiveled around and stared at the man behind
her. He wasn't the guy with the paper, but he, too, looked
like Will's photo. Only better.
"If so," he added, "I'm your Perfect Match."
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