The Exception to the Rule

by Christina Lauren

And wait—did you break up with a girl the day before Valentine’s Day? You couldn’t give it 48 hours? From: c.sun16@email.com To: t.sol18@email.com Date: February 14, 2019 Subject: Re: Happy Valentine’s Day I did. I know. A dick move. But she got 4 more months than she should have, according to my friends.

It is all good. You get to be your own valentine today. Just like me. How’s this: let’s both go find a soup dumpling place and enjoy the hell out of it. Happy Valentine’s Day, T.

I read T’s email again, and then again, and I really think that no matter how badly I want to lie to myself right now, there is no universe in which we just happened to experience two sides of the exact same encounter in different places in the country.

He came out looking like an A+ sex stud, and I came out looking like Gollum curled around her bottle of wine.

“Yes, you’re right. Having a reputation of being an amazing lay is just too great a burden for me.”

“We get soup dumplings when we’re thinking about each other.” She was thinking about me.

“Can I take you out to dinner?” His question comes out of absolutely nowhere, and my fists drop like stones. “What?” “Dinner.” He cutely mimes spooning food into his mouth. “Sun goes down. People eat.” “Like a date?” “I hope so? I intend to flirt.”

C . . . my hands are shaking right now. I am freaking the hell out. I live in Philly, too. And I think you know that. He replies with a phone number. And when I enter it into a text box, an existing contact pops up on-screen. The Hot TA.

He walks around the hood and sees me at the same time I see the cupcake box in his hand. Forget flowers; give me a cupcake and it’s a perfect date.

“I don’t normally kiss before the first date,” I tell him. “But you’re the exception to the rule.”

Are we still going to be emailing each other from the same couch on Valentine’s Day in fifty years?