30 First Dates (20 page)

"Sure. Please call me. Do you still have my number?"

"Yeah," he said too quickly.

Well, this is an interesting development
, she thought.

*  *  *

August 18: Guest Post

Name:
Ben

Age:
    29

Job:   
Geneticist

List:   
No. 10: throw a real cocktail party

Ben here. I told Erin she'd better let me write this post because there was no way she was going to tell it right.

Last Friday night Erin and her roommate threw a party in downtown Dallas. She didn't bring a date, so technically this is not a recap of one of her 30 dates. It really is, though, because she had a LOT of dates—in other words a lot of her dates from this blog were at the party.

(Note from Erin: Only four, actually, and Ben doesn't count, so really three.)

The party started fine. It was a very nice event in an art studio with fancy food and plenty of beer and wine. Pretty swank. I was impressed. I sat back and watched, mostly. Erin had guys all over her. First one of them asked her out. You all remember Pete*, the teacher from her school that got her fired?

(Erin: He did NOT get me fired. I got myself suspended. Just, you know, to be clear.)

Then she got hammered. Then one of the other guys came over and tried to get her away from the first guy. DJ*, was that his name? He got irritated that she wasn't talking to him—she'll say that isn't what happened, but it is—and cut out early.

(Erin: No comment.)

Then this reporter from the Dallas Morning News came up in the middle of that whole thing, and she overheard DJ telling Erin that he was tired of watching her flirt with other people and he'd call her later.

(Erin: He didn't say that. He said he was tired. Period. And that he'd call me later. He did call me later.)

Then the reporter interviewed Erin with Pete standing next to her, and she interviewed Pete, too. And she interviewed me. And then she interviewed my buddy Nick*, who Erin dragged to that wedding. She put a story about the party and the blog in the Sunday Style section of the paper. You can read it
here
.

And then Erin got
really
hammered. She tripped and fell down in front of her future boss and his wife, which was really funny. The reporter had left by then, though.

(Erin: God, Ben, you are MEAN. *slaps Ben on shoulder* It wasn't as bad as he makes it sound. I slipped in a puddle of wine somebody had spilled on the floor, and I didn't fall down—I just slid a little bit and had to catch myself on Kevin's* jacket sleeve. All right, that WAS incredibly embarrassing. But those shoes were HARD TO WALK IN. And Kevin didn't care. He was LAUGHING. GOOD-NATUREDLY.)

Stop yelling at me, E. To wrap it all up, Erin's got herself a real, live reality show happening in real time here in the Big D. Keep tuning in, folks.

Excerpt from
Dallas Morning News
Style Section, "DallaSightings" column by reporter Hannah Sturdivant:

In case you didn't hear, the party to be invited to last weekend was on the DL, very exclusive. It was hosted by Erin Crawford, former Dallas math teacher who's now the host of her own online reality show called 30 First Dates, and Sherri Sayles, a manager at Hutson Fox Worldwide. Guests included Barry Christmas, king of America West Airlines' Dallas hub, and Olivia Van Dzant, who launched her newest perfume line in Neiman's just last week.

Crawford's making news across the country, with an upcoming appearance on the TODAY show and a spread on her blog about to hit stands in Glamour. She's also made headlines for being the last serious girlfriend of the notorious Noah Bradley, Dallas' dashing architect-turned-home-wrecker who's now famously dating author Amelia Wright. Word has it Colin Marks is still licking his wounds and that Crawford's partly to blame.

I was on the floor at this gala event, which raised money through donations for Teachers Helping Schools, and all I can say is, Dallas guys, watch out. If you want your moment in the spotlight, put yourself in Crawford's path, but protect your back. I watched men practically lap the floor she walked on, and I want her secret. One of her former dates, Dallas Children's Hospital genetics researcher Dr. Nathan Hamm, said this of Crawford: "She's a catch, and not easy to land, either. One of those TV shows—
The Bachelor
or whatever it's called—ought to call her. That's all I'm saying."

Crawford herself was mum about her future plans, but I was able to learn from Dr. Ben Bertram, also a DCH researcher, that she's looking to turn her blog/show's concept into a career. Do I smell a book deal? I'm keeping my eye on this one.

Erin skimmed the column again and put her head in her hands. Her parents had seen this, she knew it. Probably her grandmother, too. Thank
God
Hannah Sturdivant had left the party before her humiliating spectacle with the spilled wine. Which may or may not have actually caused her fall…

It was Monday morning, a week and a day before her
TODAY
interview and two weeks before her internship and her first online classes began. She'd spent the entire day prior nursing a hangover, and so far today she'd been trying to figure out how to smooth over the rough edges that remained from Saturday night.

Devon had called her before she'd even left the party, leaving a message on her cell apologizing for cutting out early and saying he really was tired but also that he hated leaving Ethan with a sitter on his weekend. They had plans to meet up mid-week for drinks.

She hadn't heard from Paul, but she was sure, based on the way he'd acted at the party, that he would call. And before that happened she wanted to talk to Dave. She'd been unable to pull him aside Saturday night, and she wanted to know what he knew about Jess Mickelson—why hearing her name had made Paul so uncomfortable. School had only been in for a week, but the teachers had reported for duty a week before that. Plenty of time for the drama that always, without fail, kicked off a new school year.

Then there was Ben.

Erin still wasn't sure what was happening between them or why. All she knew was that Ben was acting weirder by the day. He'd had an "incident" of his own at the party. Melody, his co-worker who was getting married in a matter of days, had come without her fiancé. Erin had noticed Ben having a heated conversation with Melody at one of the sit-down tables late in the night after most of the guests had left. She asked him about it, but he blew the questions off and said it was nothing. Erin guessed Melody was friends with this mysterious doctor Ben was purportedly dating—maybe even the one who'd set them up. She felt a twinge of something like protectiveness—she refused to call it jealousy—against Melody and against this person she hadn't even met.

The phone beside her began to clatter and then belt out her mom's ringtone. She groaned and put her head down on her closed laptop, deciding she wasn't ready for that yet. She clicked a button to silence her ringer and stood up to scavenge the fridge for breakfast.

A few minutes later, after she'd made coffee and before she poured milk onto her Honey Bunches of Oats, she flipped open her laptop to view the latest comments on her blog. As press coverage for 30 First Dates grew, her page views and Google stats were going through the roof. 30 First Dates had a real following now, and it was only going to grow more with the national exposure she was getting.

Sherri came into the room rubbing her eyes and peered over Erin's shoulder. The blog now had more advertisers—cute banner spots that paid pennies per click and lined the sides of the page, advertising things like "real" dating sites and products ranging from jewelry to boutique clothing lines to shoes. Her reader demographic was mostly twenty- and thirty-something women, mostly singles. All things she needed to know as she grew the blog into a business, Sherri had told her.

Her head was swimming, and she clicked "ignore" when her phone rang once again, Hilary this time.

"Avoiding calls?" Sherri asked with a raised eyebrow. She sat down beside Erin with a bowl and poured milk over her own cereal.

"Mmm," Erin answered.

Sherri scooted her chair around and looked over Erin's shoulder. "You better create a press kit," she said.

"You think?" Erin asked, looking at her in alarm.

"I know," Sherri said, her mouth full of cereal. "I was talking to Lesley about it—she works in marketing. We were talking about it at the party. I know you're already getting media requests, but that's going to go nuts
really
quick once you've been on national TV. You need to have something you can shoot off easily to reporters and advertisers that describes your brand and gives the analytics of your site."

Erin stared at her. "I have a brand?" she asked weakly.

Sherri laughed. "You're practically a household name," she said, and laughed again.

"All right, now you're just full of it," Erin said.

"Maybe."

Sherri took a long swig of black coffee. Erin didn't know how she could stomach it that way, but she put down tankfuls of the stuff every morning. She swirled her own cream and sugar-filled concoction in her mug and took a sip.

"But yes, you have a brand," Sherri continued. "And you need to get a handle on it before it overtakes
you
. Make sure you're controlling your own image. Heck, maybe you need to hire a PR firm."

Erin stared at her like she was missing something. "Um, Sher, how on earth would I possibly afford that?" she said. "I'm unemployed for two more weeks, and then I'm a starving college student again."

Sherri shook her head like Erin was the one missing the obvious answer. "That's what I'm saying, Erin. You should be earning money from 30 First Dates. You've been building a brand all this time, and now people
want
to be part of what you've built. You need to get a handle on that right now so you don't get screwed over. You might also start talking to Devon about redesigning the site."

Erin swallowed hard. She knew everything Sherri was saying was true, and she also knew she had a lot to learn. Her years in academia had taught her plenty about people, but not much about business. She stood up to pull a page from the magnetic notepad on the fridge and sat down again to make a to-do list. And then she opened a new web page and Googled "creating a business plan."

She'd wanted to change her life, and now it seemed her life was changing her.

Blindsided

Erin glanced up at the clock on the far wall of the terminal. Her flight was due to leave in forty-five minutes, which meant she had another fifteen minutes to kill before boarding would start. Her phone chirped beside her, and she glanced down to read the incoming text. It was from Paul: "Good luck tmrw."

She smiled and sighed at the same time.
Ah, Paul.

She'd met him for coffee yesterday morning, after doing the same with Dave to get the scoop on what she'd missed since leaving the school. Her conversation with Dave had gone something like this:

"Giiiiirl."

"What?"

"I told you you were gonna have 'em dropping like flies. Didn't I tell you?"

She rolled her eyes. "Drop the act, my dear, favorite drama king.
What
is going on with Paul Moreno?"

Dave leaned in—dramatically, of course. "He's in love with you."

"What?" She almost choked on a sip of skinny vanilla latte. "What makes you say that?"

He was still leaning toward her, and he lowered his voice. "He's started hanging around with me and Angie this year, like, all the time. He has her lunch period and he eats lunch with her every day, even though last year he
never
came in the break room at lunch. Remember? He ate in his classroom, alone."

"And you think this proves he's in love with me." Erin's voice was flat.

"No. But he kept bringing you up, to her and to me, too. The first day back after break he came into my classroom and asked me if I'd talked to you. I hadn't, of course, and I asked him the same thing. I didn't even know you weren't coming back—we need to talk about that, by the way, Miss Thing—I should be pissed at you."

Erin missed his last comment, her mind spinning. "That still doesn't prove anything about how he feels about me," she said. "He told me himself at the party that he felt bad about what had happened, like he was afraid he'd ruined my career or something. Which was ridiculous, considering I initiated the whole stupid thing."

"Well, he was disappointed that you weren't back at school, I can tell you that much. We were all pretty surprised…"

"What, you mean you weren't reading my blog?" she asked with feigned shock. She meant to sound sarcastic.

"No, I read your blog." Dave looked blankly at her.

"Oh," she said. "Yeah, I guess I never really did give any resolution about the whole school situation. I think I did write that my position was reinstated…oh."

"Uh-huh. So we didn't know you weren't coming back until you weren't there. Thanks for thinking of us."

She smiled sheepishly. "I knew I'd see you at the party."

"Yeah, so, the party.
That's
when I figured out Paul is in love with you. Well, and also that about five other people are in love with you, but anyway—"

"Would you stop saying that?" She waved a hand in front of her face. "Paul is
not
in love with me." Her face burned at the reference to the other men, but she blew it off as Dave being Dave.