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  • Writer's pictureLeah Jones

Its only fun when its fiction.

I love fiction. I love to read it, I love to write it. My apartment is filled with novels and short stories. My computer is full of files of screenplays, short stories, monologues, and notes. Instead of a boyfriend in my bed, I have a pile of books taking up space. Which is fine, cause the room is small and nobody wants their side of the bed to face the wall.

The only time I don’t like fiction is when it is my life. I prefer autobiographies then. Factual reports. Honesty. I am known among friends and co-workers of being nothing, if not honest. Even Esquire magazine picked up on that. I don’t like to misrepresent and that is my fatal flaw.

A fatal flaw was described in the NOVEL Getting Personal as the thing about your date that causes you to end it. Fatal flaws for me have been as shallow as the t-shirt he chose, his boring shoes, or as major as political party or lack of ambition. Or in between–a fishy handshake.

My fatal flaw is honesty. As much as everyone wants it, people prefer fiction. Or honesty light. So when J. said in his first email, “Let’s have dinner and not call it a date.” I agreed, but I called it a date. And since it wasn’t a date for both of us, we had a great time. I found someone I clicked with, someone I wouldn’t mind seeing again. So we met for drinks, which I boldy labeled to myself a second date.

Why? Why would I ignore the very first email he sent and boldy label it a date? I always do that shit. Calling a spade a spade and finding out it isn’t exactly a spade. It felt like a spade and looked like a spade to the barista and the waiter and played out like a spade, but it was not a spade at all.

So I’m frustrated and ready to throw in the towel and officially become a spinster. Dating is an awful fucking numbers game and I am not that good at math.

I do, however, enjoy writing fiction. I’m good at it. So I’ll go back to writing and leave the fiction on the page. I’ll write a great novel about dating in this god damned city and quit actually trying to meet someone.

fuck it.

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