As I sit here like a high school girl, daydreaming about the guy in my dreams, Sheyla talks to me about some work drama I don’t fully understand, but it has something to do with her boyfriend. She’s telling me names of people I’ve probably met once at one of her VIP events she’s invited me to years ago, but I don’t remember any of them.

  The day is beautiful to sit outside, letting the sun shine around our shaded seats, and there aren’t too many people walking on the sidewalk staring at us eating. My head nods politely, hoping I’m coming out as invested in this conversation, but my mind drifts off. I can picture him so perfectly, sitting right next to me and nodding politely at Sheyla’s convoluted story we both don’t understand, and then we look at each other with those eyes only we know, like . I wonder what his name is. I catch myself knowing it’s silly to be falling in love with an imaginary person I’ve only ever met in my dreams. Then, Sheyla stops talking, looking at me, waiting for a response.

  “Wow,” I say, hoping it's neutral enough of a response. “No way.” I curse myself for being sucked into a make-believe world my mind can't seem to control.

  “Are you ok?” she says, squinting her eyes through her big, cat-eyed shaped fancy sunglasses with thin gold temples as the wind gently brushes her short, wavy hair.

  Damn it. I knew she would catch on. “I’m fine. This overtime is slowly killing me. But back to you. So... how did it all happen?”

  She laughs. “I knew I should’ve given you just the cliff notes.”

  “No! No, I asked for the details because the last time I met him, he was like the most perfect man.”

  “You know nice guys exist, you just need to stop meeting them through dating apps or from our high school.”

  I laugh. “Shut your ass up.”

  She laughs. “He was cool. Didn’t work out. I paid for his ride share plus tip because it was my way of saying thank you for the good time, and I had also invited him to my work event like an idiot, so… I felt it was only fair.”

  “Damn, like that, huh?”

  She nods. “We were never or whatever anyway. He was becoming an anchor. Life is too short to deal with that mess.”

  I nod. He was tall, dark, and handsome—the beautiful, rare trinity. Not to mention, Sheyla is easily skating along the dating game, all while others like me are out here struggling to find a half-decent partner. I try to keep my thoughts to myself, but my face always betrays me.

  “You don’t approve?” Sheyla asks.

  “No, no, it’s not that. Obviously, it’s your life. He was just really good to you, is all. Maybe it was worth one more try. But again… your life.”

  “One more try? What are you even saying?”

  “I mean… didn’t you say his place was super clean? That’s like… impossible to find.”

  She squints her eyes and furrows her brows as her faux leather jacket squeaks with her arms across her chest, searching for her words. “I knew I shouldn’t have told you the most basic thing I observed from the few times I was at his place. I’m not going to stop exploring the world just because he can’t go, but he’s clean. That’s not how life works, honey.”

  “Yeah. That’s not fair to you. He was just like… nice, I guess.” I take out my phone and search for him to unfollow. “I’m unfollowing him. See? I’ll always support you, boo.”

  “Why do you always follow the guys I date?”

  “Cuz that’s what social media is about. Following people. Maybe they have single friends. Girl, come on. Get with it.”

  She laughs. “You think they will have friends.” She smiles at me as if she’s figured out my deepest, darkest secret. “I know that’s one of the top requirements with you; otherwise, you’d be with Victor by now with ten babies.”

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  I nearly choke on my mimosa. “No way. Definitely not ten. I’m not even sure I want one.”

  “That’s what you’re reacting to? The number of babies?” she laughs.

  “I just don’t want you manifesting that for me,” I joke. “I need to find a man first. My mom didn’t fail to remind me this morning.”

  “I’m sorry she’s so old school.”

  “It’s ok. I guess she’s right. I’ll become useless in a few years if I don’t find a partner to have babies with.”

  I’ll never forget the days my sister cried all night and later confessed to me that she thought about throwing herself down some stairs when she was pregnant. Her post-partum depression was awful. I’m not sure I can be a mother, but then again, I wouldn’t want to put off my potential life partner if he wants one.

  “Let’s enjoy our childless adult lives for now.” I swallow my third mimosa. “Anyway, I’m going to die single.”

  “Is that so bad, though?” she says as she ignores her first mimosa.

  “Some of us want a partner to share this shitty life with.”

  “Fair.” She finishes her sparkling water and refills it from the big bottle. “I mean, you have Victor.”

  I knew she would say that. I roll my eyes. “He’s just a friend.”

  “A very, very good friend who literally does everything you want in a partner. He might as well be a rug.”

  I laugh. “Oh, stop it, it’s not like that.”

  “Oh? His car connects to your phone first before even his. He texts you every morning and every night some poetic bullshit that you love.” It’s true, I do love it. “He’s your chauffeur, always makes sure you’re wherever you need to be. The man doesn’t even talk without looking at you first. He puts on your fucking shoes, Bej! I’ve seen it happen, even if you try to lie and say it didn’t.”

  I can’t hide my smile, but it’s hard for me to look her in the eyes. Truth is, Victor does have everything I look for except the height. He’s an inch shorter than I am. As much as it’s popular to say, , it’s easier said than done. I’ve tried. Whenever we’re in public, people stare, making me uncomfortable. I know they’re judging us, so it feels better to put their judgment at ease if we’re just friends. Societal pressure is real, even if we pretend it’s not.

  “Anyway,” I say, trying to change the subject.

  “It’s been years of you pulling him along.”

  “I made it very clear we were just friends.”

  “Anyone with eyes can see he’s still very much hopeful. And you go along with it instead of setting ‘friend’ boundaries. This relationship, friendship, whatever it is, isn’t going to end well at all.”

  “We’re all adults. I’m sure if a miracle happens and my dream man walks into my life, Victor will be understanding.”

  Sheyla rolls her eyes. Part of me knows she’s right. My relationship with Victor will end. Victor has been with me through the worst of my times and vice versa, so I am grateful to him. Life just isn’t fair. I can’t control what I’m physically attracted to, even though he is cute and works out regularly. He's also very smart and has the patience of a saint when I don't understand something. I love how he explains sci-fi movies to me when I lose track of the rules of the world.

  “Are you still trying online dating?” Sheyla asks.

  I smile guiltily. “I mean, it’s free, but I don’t think anything comes out of it, honestly. Maybe because it’s free. Anyway, why am I on my third mimosa and you haven’t even started one?”

  She smiles, caught. “Why are you counting?”

  We laugh. She takes a small sip as though she’s forcing herself, which is weird. She’s the first person to start drinking and the last one still standing. Nobody can outdrink her. I don’t know what would happen if she ever went sober. Our entire friend group would probably have a heart attack because all we do is go to bars. How else are we supposed to have fun and let loose?

  “Did I tell you my whole family took me to Titi’s to get the miracle love candle?” I confess.

  She gasps. “Stop it!”

  I nod.

  “It was embarrassing.”

  “You told me you wanted to do it, though. Many success stories from that fucking candle, and she only does custom orders.”

  “Yeah, girl, but I wanted to do it on my own, not with my whole family telling me how pathetic and single I am. My mom called me a .”

  “That’s messed up. We should reclaim that word, honestly. It’s about time.”

  I laugh. “I’m ugly, and I’m proud!”

  She laughs. “I’m ugly, and I’m proud!” she yells after me, raising her glass of water.

  “Girl, you’re raising the wrong glass!” I correct her.

  She raises her mimosa. “ and proud.”

  We cheers. Being single for seven years is eating away at me. I need someone to take care of me as Victor does, but someone our society would accept, so it's not uncomfortable. Someone who would bring us the right kind of attention or no attention at all. If only it were that easy. I’m starting to think he only exists in my dreams.

  The rest of the weekend flew by between helping my sister apartment-hunt all over Los Angeles, going makeup shopping with some friends, and Victor joining us for dinner after that, since Sheyla couldn't join. I'm sure having brunch with me was too much social interaction, which is why she chose not to hang out again. No matter how much it bugs me, I have to respect her introvertedness.

  However, the strangest things kept happening, and I'm not sure how to explain this to anyone, so I'm keeping it to myself. Everywhere I went, I swear I saw him, the man from my dreams. When I would double-check to see if he was there, he would disappear. It has to be my exhaustion from work. But I could see him so clearly, waiting for me to find him amongst the crowd.