With Bandit’s head nestled in my lap and my computer on the arm of the couch, I searched female murderers in the United States during the last thirty years. The most famous female serial killer was Aileen Wuornos, but that was likely because a movie was made about her crimes. There were a handful of female killers here and there, and the majority of them were women who snapped for one reason or another and killed their own children, yet the cold-blooded—the kill-for-the-sake-of-killing type—were a rare breed. My temples began to pound, and if I didn’t let go of work issues, I would never get any rest that night.
After moving my pup’s sleeping body to the side, I crossed the living room and opened the upper kitchen cabinet then shook four ibuprofen into my hand. I cracked open a can of beer and used it to gulp down the tablets then returned to the couch, where Bandit resumed his earlier position.
Needing a distraction, I began a search of dating websites. I’d been thinking about jumping into the pool of the unknown for months but had never pulled the trigger. Work always gave me a good reason to hold off, but work would be there until I retired, and I wasn’t sure I would feel like entering the dating scene at seventy. I focused only on the first page since sites beyond that wouldn’t be something I’d investigate, anyway. It seemed that the first few were the swipe-left-or-right sites popular with the teen to twenty-something crowd—far from my recently turned thirty-seven-year-old mind and body and something I had neither the time nor the energy for.
The fifth site down piqued my curiosity. It was a dating website for professional singles, and although no age ranges were listed, I felt a site like that would serve me better. I set up an account, and while it was free, charges kicked in when messages were exchanged. Still, I could set my search parameters and browse for free. I figured a half hour of seeing the type of people in the dating world was better than dwelling on work issues that I couldn’t solve from home, anyway. Several women’s profiles caught my eye, but being the skeptic I was, I wondered if they were pumped up with false bravado. I was sure many had fake jobs, fake body parts, and fake ages. I’d heard horror stories about dating sites from some of my college buddies. Still, reading how every woman loved dogs, was a great cook, and enjoyed walking hand in hand on the beach—a phrase that had gone stale years earlier—made me chuckle. I powered off my laptop, woke up the pup, and headed down the hallway as I looked forward to dropping my head on my pillow and falling asleep.