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me to a chair. He said it was an experiment to help me learn more about myself. When he left togo get some cigarettes, I chewed through the twine he tied me up with, something he hadn’t figured I’d be able to do. The next time he was more careful. He handcuffed me to the door of our refrigerator.
    â€œYou’re going to ruin it,” he says. “You’re going to fuck up the plan.”
    I look around at the other people here, lonely people trying to put their best foot forward, people who weren’t ready to meet someone when they still looked good enough, people who work too many hours, people who drink too much or can’t stop themselves from doing weird shit, like going to grocery stores and breaking all the candy bars in half when no one is looking.
    â€œLet’s go live in the country,” I tell Atomic. “We’ll open a restaurant. You’ll flip the burgers and I’ll bring out the plates. We’ll grow some weed in the basement of our house and sell it to all the high school kids. We’ll have a kid and name it Atomic Jr. and call it Tommy for short.”
    He shakes his head no.
    â€œThis is going to work,” he says. “It’ll work if you’d just have a little patience.”
    T he bell rings twice in a row and the speed dating ends. We fill out an index card to say who we liked best. I give Willem the highest rating, even though I know he doesn’t exist. Graham is my second choice because at least he and I know how we want to die. I watch as everyone gathers up their coats. Some of them look giddy, but there are other ones, ones who haven’t made a match, who slink away. Atomic makes his way over to the bar with the blonde woman with the horse teeth. I sit across the bar from him now, wrapping and unwrapping my coat.
    Don’t, I think, don’t. I try to make this word enter the blonde woman’s brain—get her to stop. It’s not working though, mytelepathy; the blonde woman keeps twirling her hair, gulping her margarita. My powers of suggestion are weak and the waiters, dressed in those stupid Cuban shirts, keep cutting through my view, running baskets of chips, huge drinks, sizzling and steaming platters of food, their trays held up to the heavens like they are offering up a sacrifice to some enchilada-loving god.
    â€œYou’ll follow me back,” Atomic told me, “and after I tie her up, I’ll let you in.”
    Don’t, I keep thinking, but this woman isn’t listening. She’s happy to be talking to Atomic, so beautiful and so interested in her. She’s drunk and she’s telling herself this is real. She’s probably telling that to herself over and over because that’s what she wants to believe.
    I run to the bathroom and while I’m there, I think about ruining the plan. I think about walking up to Atomic and saying something like, “I’ve been looking all over for you. Your mother just had a stroke.” Or maybe I’ll just yell at him like I’m a jilted lover.
    When I get back out to the bar there are now two women sitting next to Atomic, the woman with the horse teeth and a new woman with short black hair and glasses. I wonder where she came from, but I don’t have long to mull it over, because all three of them stand up, put on their coats, and leave.
    They walk out the door and down the street, arm in arm in arm. They skip for half a block. What the hell is he doing? Is he going to tie both of them up, bleed both of their bank accounts dry?
    The three of them walk past that coffee shop where I worked for a week before I got fired. They duck into a loading dock. I stand across the street and watch Atomic kiss the blonde woman. After he is finished kissing her, he kisses the brunette. Then the two women kiss. They pull apart and giggle for a second, but Atomic takes the back of their heads and pushes them back together.
    â€œWhatever you see isn’t