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My Coworkers Set Me Up on a Joke Date With a Single Mom… But Nobody Expected What I Did Next — Transcript

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0:00That was the part I kept coming back to,
0:02even weeks later. Not what they did, not
0:04even why, just the fact that they
0:06thought it was funny. Let me back up. My
0:09name is Aaron. I'm 31 years old. I work
0:12in logistics for a mid-size distribution
0:14company outside of Columbus, Ohio.
0:17The kind of job that doesn't make for
0:18great dinner conversation, but pays the
0:21bills and occasionally surprises you
0:23with decent people.
0:24I've worked there for 4 years, long
0:26enough to know whose coffee order is
0:28whose, whose divorce is whose, and who
0:31should never eat lunch alone with unless
0:33you want to hear about their HOA
0:35disputes for 45 minutes straight. I
0:38thought I knew my coworkers pretty well.
0:40Turns out I didn't. It started on a
0:42Thursday, which matters because
0:44Thursdays are when our team does late
0:46inventory check.
0:48It's tedious work, the kind where you
0:50need someone else there just to keep
0:52yourself from going completely numb.
0:55My buddy Holt and I were usually paired
0:57together for it. We'd been friends since
0:59I started. The same kind of quiet
1:01background friendship where you don't
1:03hang out every weekend, but you'd call
1:06each other if something actually went
1:07wrong. Or at least, I thought that's
1:10what it was. Holt found me at my desk
1:12around 4:00 in the afternoon and said,
1:14"Hey, a few of us are doing dinner
1:16Saturday. Rossini's on 5th. You in?" I
1:19said sure without thinking much about
1:21it. Rossini's is good. It's one of those
1:24mid-upscale Italian spots with brick
1:26walls and candles and empty wine
1:28bottles. The kind of place that feels a
1:30little more intentional than a chain,
1:32but not so fancy you need a jacket. I'd
1:34been there once for a work anniversary
1:36dinner and liked it. He said, "Great.
1:397:00. Oh, and just so you know, we
1:42invited someone for you." I looked up
1:44from my monitor. What does that mean?
1:46Just someone.
1:47"You'll like her." He grinned. "Be
1:49open-minded, okay?"
1:51I should have pushed harder on that.
1:53Instead, I said fine and went back to my
1:54screen. Holt had set me up once before
1:57with his neighbor,
1:58a woman named Gail who was perfectly
2:00nice and completely wrong for me.
2:02And it had been harmless.
2:04I assumed this was the same thing. It
2:06wasn't the same thing at all. Saturday
2:08came and I showed up to Rossini's in
2:10dark jeans and a gray button-down
2:12because I didn't know if this was casual
2:14or a date or something in between, and
2:17that outfit has never gotten me into
2:19trouble.
2:20I'm not the kind of guy who over-dresses
2:22for things. My mom always said I had a
2:24gift for looking like I tried just
2:26enough, and I don't know if that's a
2:27compliment, but I've leaned into it.
2:30The parking lot was busy. I found a spot
2:32near the back and sat in my car for a
2:34minute longer than I needed to.
2:36Something felt off. I couldn't name it.
2:39I walked in anyway. The hostess smiled
2:41and pointed me toward a table in the
2:42back corner, and as I walked across the
2:44restaurant, I started counting heads.
2:47Holt, his girlfriend Bree,
2:49two guys from the warehouse team, Devin
2:52and Scott, Scott's wife, whose name I
2:54could never remember, and then there was
2:57a woman I'd never seen before sitting a
2:59little apart from the group in the way
3:01that people sit when they're not quite
3:02sure if they belong. She was looking at
3:05her phone. Her hair was dark and pulled
3:07back. She was wearing a black blouse
3:09with small gold earrings. She was
3:12objectively beautiful. She was also
3:14clearly as uncertain about this
3:16situation as I was, and the rest of the
3:18table, Holt, Bree, Devin, Scott, were
3:21watching me walk toward them with a kind
3:23of badly suppressed smiles that made the
3:25back of my neck go cold. I knew before I
3:28sat down. I didn't know the specifics,
3:30but I knew the tone. I'd grown up with
3:32an older brother who specialized in
3:34exactly that brand of grinning
3:36preemptive cruelty, and I recognized it
3:38the way you recognize a smell from
3:40childhood. I sat down. Holt said,
3:43"Aaron, this is Simone."
3:45Simone looked up from her phone. She had
3:47the expression of someone who had also
3:48just read the room and was deciding in
3:50real time whether to stay or leave. She
3:53gave me a small, careful smile.
3:55"Hi." "Hey," I said. "Erin, I know."
3:58She put her phone face down on the
4:00table. "They told me about you." "What
4:02did they say?" "That you were nice." She
4:04said it in a tone that was entirely
4:06neutral.
4:07Devon snorted from across the table.
4:09Bree hit his arm. Holt took a long drink
4:12of water. I looked at Simone. She was
4:14looking at her hands. Her jaw was tight
4:16in the way that people's jaws go tight
4:18when they've decided to be polite
4:19through something rather than make a
4:21scene.
4:23I didn't know her story yet,
4:25but I knew that look. It came out in
4:27pieces, the way things do when someone
4:29is deciding how much to tell you. While
4:31the rest of the table fell into their
4:33own conversation, loudly,
4:35ostentatiously, like they were
4:37performing normalcy.
4:38Simone and I sat across from each other
4:41and did the first date dance of brief
4:43answers and quiet questions. She was 34.
4:47She'd moved to Columbus from Atlanta 2
4:48years ago. She worked as a respiratory
4:51therapist at OSU Wexner Medical Center.
4:53She had a daughter. Her name was Lily,
4:55she said. 7 years old. Loved dinosaurs
4:58and hated the color yellow for reasons
5:00that defied adult explanation. I smiled
5:03at that. "She sounds specific," I said.
5:05"Oh, she is." And for a moment,
5:07something in Simone's face shifted.
5:10Not softened exactly, unlocked, the way
5:13a room looks different when you open a
5:14window.
5:15"She has very strong opinions about most
5:17things. It's exhausting and I am wildly
5:20proud of her for it. How long have you
5:21been on your own?" She looked at me
5:23evenly. "Lily's dad and I split when she
5:26was two. He's in Atlanta still. He sees
5:28her a few times a year." She paused. "I
5:31know what you're thinking."
5:32"I'm thinking she's lucky to have a mom
5:34who moved to a new city and figured it
5:36out." She studied me.
5:38It wasn't a warm look. It was careful.
5:41The look of someone who had been handed
5:42compliments that turned out to be
5:43conditions. "You don't have to say
5:45that," she said. "I know." I said. I
5:49said it anyway. Somewhere around the
5:51bread basket, I heard Devon say
5:53something to Scott in a low voice.
5:55I caught the phrase, "At least she's
5:57cute," and felt my stomach turn over. I
5:59looked up at Holt. He met my eyes and
6:01had the decency to look away first. So,
6:03that was it. That was the joke. Single
6:06mom, difficult situation, probably
6:08desperate. Bring in good old Aaron who's
6:10been single too long. Watch him be
6:12polite about it. See how long it takes
6:14him to run. I felt something go very
6:16still inside me. Not anger, exactly.
6:19Anger was too simple. It was closer to
6:21the feeling you get when you think you
6:23know where a road goes and it turns out
6:25you've been on a completely different
6:26road the whole time.
6:29I'd trusted Holt. Not blindly, but
6:31genuinely.
6:32In the way you trust someone you've
6:34eaten lunch with 200 times. In the way
6:37you trust someone who knows which days
6:39are hard for you and doesn't make you
6:41talk about it. And he had brought me to
6:43this table to be part of a joke at
6:45someone else's expense. Simone was
6:48sitting 18 inches away from me eating
6:49her bread in small, careful bites, doing
6:52her absolute best to pretend she didn't
6:55feel the way she clearly felt. I made a
6:57decision. "Hey," I said, quietly enough
7:00that only she could hear. "Can I ask you
7:02something?" She looked at me. "Did
7:04someone tell you this was going to be a
7:06group dinner?" A beat. She set her bread
7:09down. "Yes. And did they tell you they
7:11were also inviting someone for you
7:13specifically?"
7:15"Brian mentioned it would be nice if I
7:16got to meet someone." She made it sound
7:18very casual. Her voice was controlled.
7:21She did not mention that there would be
7:23an audience. I nodded slowly. "Okay," I
7:26said.
7:27"I want you to know that I didn't know
7:28either. I just want that to be on the
7:30table."
7:31She looked at me for a long moment.
7:33"Okay. And I also want to say that
7:35whatever version of this they imagined
7:37happening, I'm not interested in it."
7:40Something shifted in her expression,
7:42wariness sharpening. "I mean," I said,
7:45"I'm not interested in being someone's
7:47entertainment, and I'm guessing you're
7:48not either."
7:49Very slowly, she exhaled. It was a
7:52small, controlled breath, but I'd seen
7:54enough people hold themselves together
7:56to recognize when the effort was
7:57considerable. "No," she said, "I'm not
8:00okay." I picked up my menu. "Then, let's
8:03just have dinner. Actual dinner. If it's
8:06terrible, we both go home and that's it.
8:08If it's not terrible, we'll see."
8:10She looked at me for another second,
8:12then she picked up her menu. "Fine," she
8:14said, and we did. The thing about having
8:16actual dinner with someone when the
8:18context around you is trying to make it
8:21something else is that you either
8:22crumble under the weight of it or you
8:24build something in spite of it.
8:26We built something, slowly, awkwardly,
8:30the way things that are real are usually
8:32awkward at first. She told me about
8:34respiratory therapy, the particular
8:36exhaustion of working with patients who
8:38can't breathe, and the specific
8:41satisfaction when they finally can. I
8:43told her about logistics, which I gave
8:45her the honest version of.
8:47Mostly spreadsheets, occasionally
8:49rewarding, never what I imagined doing
8:51at 31, but not something I hated,
8:54which was more than a lot of people
8:55could say.
8:56She asked if I had family in Columbus. I
8:59said my parents were about 40 minutes
9:01out in Gahanna.
9:03My dad had retired from the post office
9:052 years ago, and my mom taught third
9:07grade for 26 years, and now taught
9:09watercolor classes at the rec center.
9:12Simone laughed at that. Not a polite
9:14laugh, a real one, the kind that happens
9:16before you've decided whether to let it
9:18out.
9:19"My mom does CrossFit," she said. "She
9:22started at 62, and now she sends me
9:24workout videos at 7:00 in the morning."
9:26"With commentary?" "With very detailed
9:28commentary." She shook her head. "She
9:31thinks I don't move enough. She's
9:32probably right." "She sounds like a
9:34mom." "Yeah." Something fond crossed her
9:38She really does.
9:39We talked about Atlanta, what she
9:41missed, the food, her college friends, a
9:44specific Thai restaurant on Peachtree
9:46that she still occasionally dreamed
9:48about, and what she didn't. The
9:50humidity, the traffic, the particular
9:52loneliness of being in a city where you
9:54know everyone and somehow feel unknown.
9:57I told her about the year I'd spent in
9:59Pittsburgh after college before coming
10:01back to Ohio,
10:02and how the distance had been useful in
10:04a way I hadn't expected. Not because
10:07there was anything wrong with Columbus,
10:09but because leaving for a while made me
10:11choose it, which was different from just
10:13staying. She listened the way good
10:15listeners listen, not nodding
10:17constantly, not filling every pause,
10:20just present. The table around us had
10:22long since stopped performing. Holt and
10:24Bree were having a quiet conversation.
10:27Devon was on his phone. Scott was
10:29telling a story his wife had clearly
10:30heard before.
10:32Nobody was watching us. At some point I
10:34realized they hadn't expected it to last
10:36this long. The joke had a particular
10:39timeline in mind, awkward introduction,
10:41quick retreat, debrief over drinks. We'd
10:44gone somewhere off script. I didn't mind
10:46that at all. Simone excused herself to
10:48use the restroom around 9:00. While she
10:51was gone, Holt leaned across the table.
10:53"So," he said. He was smiling, but it
10:55was the uncertain kind, the kind that's
10:57already hedging. "So what?" I said.
11:00"Come on. What do you think?" I looked
11:02at him. I thought about the right way to
11:03say what I was feeling, which was not
11:05something I'd figured out in the 2
11:07minutes I'd had. "I think," I said,
11:10"that the way this was set up was a
11:11lousy thing to do."
11:13Holt blinked. "It was just" "I know what
11:15it was." I kept my voice level. "And I'd
11:18like you to not do that again." He
11:20opened his mouth, closed it. "She's a
11:22person," I said, "not a setup, not a
11:25punchline." Bree was looking at the
11:26table. Scott's wife was looking at the
11:29table. Devon had put his phone down.
11:31Nobody said anything. Simone came back
11:33from the restroom and slid back into her
11:35seat. And I handed her the dessert menu
11:37and said, "The tiramisu looked good. I
11:41was thinking about splitting it if you
11:42were interested."
11:44She looked at the menu.
11:45"Only if they actually refrigerate it
11:47properly. Warm tiramisu is a crime."
11:50Strong stance. "I work in health care.
11:53Food safety is personal." I laughed. She
11:55laughed. Holt sat quietly on the other
11:57side of the table and I didn't look at
11:59him. And we ordered the tiramisu and it
12:02was properly refrigerated. We walked out
12:04together around 10. The November air was
12:06sharp and clean after the warmth of the
12:08restaurant and Simone pulled her coat
12:10tighter and let out a long breath that
12:12steamed faintly in the cold.
12:14"Well," she said. "Well," I said. We
12:17were standing in the parking lot a few
12:19feet apart. The group had said their
12:21goodbyes inside, warm and slightly
12:24overcompensating in that way people are
12:26when they know they overstepped. "That
12:28was not what I was expecting," she said.
12:30"Which part?" She considered that. "Most
12:33of it." "You specifically? Good or bad?"
12:36"Good." She said it without hesitation.
12:38"Then I don't usually say that so fast.
12:42I appreciate it either way." She looked
12:44at me for a second. Not the careful,
12:46measuring look from earlier. Something
12:48more open. "Lily has a soccer game
12:50Sunday morning. I bring coffee from this
12:52place on Broad Street and sit in the
12:54cold for an hour and a half pretending I
12:55understand the rules. I know the offside
12:58rule," I said. "Barely. But I know it."
13:02"That's more than I've got after two
13:03seasons." She paused. "If you wanted to
13:06bring coffee and not understand the
13:07rules with me, that would be okay."
13:10"Yeah," I said, "it would." I want to
13:12tell you the next part went smoothly. It
13:14didn't. Real things don't. The first few
13:17months, there was a rhythm to it that
13:19took some getting used to.
13:21Not because of Simone, but because of
13:23the reality of what her life actually
13:25looked like. She was a shift worker,
13:28which meant her schedule was different
13:30every week. She had a 7-year-old with a
13:32sleep schedule of a small determined
13:35dictator.
13:36She had a mom in Atlanta she talked to
13:38every Sunday for an hour and a half. She
13:40had a life that was already full with
13:42everything arranged just so. And I was a
13:44new element in it that had to find its
13:47place without displacing anything that
13:49already mattered.
13:51I wasn't always graceful about that.
13:53There was a Sunday in February when I
13:55had made plans with Simone and then Lily
13:57got a stomach bug and everything changed
13:59at 6:00 in the morning and my first
14:01instinct before I'd caught it and
14:03replaced it with something better was
14:05disappointment. I didn't say it out
14:08loud, but I felt it and I knew it and I
14:11sat with that for a while. Because
14:13here's the thing nobody tells you about
14:14dating someone whose life is genuinely
14:16complicated. It asks you to decide over
14:19and over whether you're actually in.
14:22Not in the big romantic sense. In the
14:24small Tuesday morning sense when plans
14:26change and logistics are difficult and
14:29you have to ask yourself honestly
14:30whether you're the kind of person who's
14:32actually here or just the kind of person
14:35who likes the idea of being here.
14:37I had to choose that more than once. I
14:40chose it every time, but it was never
14:42automatic. It was always a choice. I met
14:45Lily in April. Simone had been careful
14:47about it in a way I respected. She'd
14:49been clear from the beginning that Lily
14:51came first and that any new person in
14:53their life would enter it slowly with
14:55intention.
14:56I hadn't pushed. When Simone said she
14:58thought it was time, I trusted her read
15:01on her own daughter. We met at the
15:03Columbus Zoo which Simone said was
15:05Lily's current favorite place for
15:06exactly one reason, the giant tortoise
15:09in the reptile house. Nothing else. Just
15:12the tortoise. Lily was small and serious
15:15with the same dark eyes as her mother
15:17and the manner of someone who had
15:18important assessments to make and was
15:20not going to be rushed about it.
15:23She shook my hand when Simone introduced
15:25us, which I was not prepared for in the
15:27best possible way.
15:29We walked to the reptile house first.
15:31Lily stood in front of the tortoise for
15:32four solid minutes without saying
15:34anything. Then she said, "He's been
15:36alive longer than any building in Ohio."
15:39"That's true," I said. "Pretty much."
15:42"Buildings aren't loyal," she said. "He
15:44just stays."
15:45I looked at Simone. She was watching
15:47Lily with the expression of a person who
15:49had heard their kid say something that
15:51landed differently than expected.
15:54"That's a good way to think about it," I
15:56said to Lily.
15:57She looked at me for the first time
15:58friends like she was actually seeing me.
16:01"Do you like tortoises?" "I think I do
16:03now." That seemed to satisfy her.
16:05She turned back to the tortoise. We
16:07stood there together for another minute,
16:09the three of us, and I thought about
16:11what she'd said. He just stays, and I
16:14thought about choices, and I thought
16:16about the February morning when Lily had
16:18a stomach bug, and I'd felt that flash
16:20of disappointment, and I thought about
16:23how glad I was that I'd chosen better
16:25than that feeling. There was a moment in
16:27June that I think about more than
16:29anything else.
16:31Simone had been working a stretch of
16:32overnight shifts, and I'd offered to
16:34pick Lily up from day camp on a
16:36Wednesday. Simone had walked me through
16:38everything twice, the car line, the
16:40teacher's name, the snack Lily liked,
16:43what to do if Lily decided she was in a
16:45mood. I told her I had it. I mostly had
16:48it. Lily came out of camp and found me
16:50standing by my car and didn't say
16:52anything for a second. Then she said,
16:54"Did Mom tell you to get me strawberry
16:55gummies?" "She mentioned it." "Did you
16:57get them?" I held up the bag. She took
17:00it, opened it, ate one, considered.
17:03"Okay," she said, and got in the car. We
17:05drove for a few minutes in silence. She
17:07was looking out the window at the strip
17:09malls sliding past, eating gummies with
17:12the patience of someone who had things
17:13to think about. Then she said, "Aaron?"
17:16"Yeah." "Are you going to stay?"
17:19I glanced at her in the rearview. She
17:21was still looking out the window.
17:23"That's the plan," I said. "Mom's last
17:25boyfriend didn't stay." She said it the
17:28way kids say true things, without
17:30accusation, without weight, just as a
17:32fact that exists. "He was nice at first,
17:35too." I didn't say anything right away.
17:37I thought about the easy answer, the
17:39reassuring one, the one that would
17:41smooth it over. I decided she deserved
17:43something more honest than that.
17:45"I can't promise the future," I said.
17:47"Nobody can, really, but I'm not going
17:49anywhere right now. And the things that
17:51matter to you matter to me, including
17:53you." She thought about that, ate
17:55another gummy. "Okay," she said. And
17:58that was it. The conversation ended. She
18:01went back to looking out the window.
18:03But I drove the rest of the way with
18:04something tight in my throat that I
18:06didn't try to name because some things
18:09are better just felt than explained.
18:12Holt and I are not friends the way we
18:13used to be.
18:14That's not a dramatic statement. Nobody
18:17stopped speaking to anyone. There was no
18:19confrontation, no fallout, no satisfying
18:22scene where I said everything I should
18:24have said and he understood everything
18:26he needed to understand. Real life
18:28mostly doesn't deliver those. What
18:30happened was quieter. I stopped going to
18:33the Thursday dinners. He stopped
18:35stopping by my desk. We nod in the
18:37hallway. We're professional. We're fine.
18:40But the kind of trust we had before that
18:41night at Rossini's, the 200 lunches
18:44kind, the call if something's wrong
18:46kind, I don't have it anymore and I'm
18:49not sure I want it back because trust
18:52like that should be earned, not just
18:54accumulated, and I'm not sure he ever
18:56understood the difference. Bree texted
18:58me in December to say she was sorry,
19:00that she'd thought it would be fun and
19:02hadn't thought it through.
19:04I said I appreciated it. I meant it.
19:06Some apologies are late and partial and
19:08genuine all at once, and that's worth
19:10something. Devin never said anything.
19:13That's fine, too. Not everything needs a
19:15resolution. Simone asked me once, late
19:18on a Friday night when Lily was asleep,
19:20and we were on her couch with the
19:22television on low, what I thought would
19:24have happened if I'd handled that first
19:26dinner differently.
19:27"What does differently mean?" I asked.
19:30"If you'd left early, laughed it off,
19:32gone along with whatever they expected."
19:35I thought about it. "I think you'd have
19:37had a bad story about a work dinner, and
19:39then moved on. And you?"
19:42"I'd have been the person who made a
19:43good woman feel like a joke and didn't
19:45do anything about it."
19:47I looked at her. "I didn't want to be
19:49that person." She was quiet for a
19:51moment. Outside a car went by. Lily had
19:54a nightlight that cast a faint orange
19:56glow under her door down the hall. "For
19:58what it's worth," Simone said, "the
20:00tortoise was Lily's test. She takes
20:02everyone to the tortoise." "What happens
20:04if they're impatient?" "She notices. She
20:07files it away." She looked at me
20:09sideways. "She said you were okay."
20:11"High praise. From Lily, it actually
20:14is."
20:15I thought about a 7-year-old who had
20:17decided that loyalty was better than
20:19buildings, who shook hands at the first
20:20meetings and asked and asked asked
20:22direct questions and waited to see if
20:23you meant what you said.
20:25"She's going to be formidable," I said.
20:28Simone smiled. Not the careful, measured
20:30smile from the restaurant, the real one,
20:33the open one, the one that happened
20:34before she decided whether to let it
20:36out. "She already is."
20:39We've been together a year and a half
20:40now. Lily is eight. She has moved on
20:42from tortoises to astronomy with the
20:45same intensity she brings to everything.
20:48And she has informed me that she intends
20:49to be the first person to photograph a
20:51black hole from inside the event
20:53horizon, which is not scientifically
20:56possible, and which I have decided is
20:58entirely her problem to figure out.
21:01Simone picked up a Tuesday morning yoga
21:03class, which she attends exactly half
21:05the time because shift work and a third
21:07grader do not easily accommodate Tuesday
21:10morning yoga, but she goes when she can
21:12and that counts.
21:14My mom loves Simone with a completeness
21:16that I think took Simone by surprise. My
21:19dad, who expresses affection primarily
21:21through handshakes and project
21:22assistance, recaulked Simone's bathtub
21:25last month and declared the job
21:27adequate, which from him is essentially
21:29a sonnet. I still work at the same
21:31company. I still do Thursday inventory.
21:34I do it with a guy named Ret Now, who
21:37talks about woodworking with such
21:39sincerity that I have begun genuinely
21:41caring about the difference between
21:42dovetail and box joints, which is not
21:45something I expected for my 30s. Last
21:48Sunday Lily came in from outside, where
21:50she'd been lying on the back porch
21:51staring at the afternoon sky through a
21:53pair of plastic binoculars, and she said
21:56to me very seriously, "Erin, do you know
21:58how far away the sun is?"
22:00"93 million miles," I said. She pointed
22:03at me. "93 million miles and it still
22:06gets here."
22:07I told her that was right. She nodded
22:09once, like I'd confirmed something she'd
22:11suspected, and went back outside. I
22:14stood in the kitchen for a moment after
22:16she left, looking at the door she'd gone
22:18through, thinking about distances and
22:20arrivals and what it means to get
22:22somewhere when the odds seem to suggest
22:24you wouldn't.
22:26Some things make it
22:27against the setup, against the joke,
22:30against the expectation that it would go
22:31sideways. Some things just stay.

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