I GOT TO the panini place on North Elston Avenue about a half hour early and parked in front of the Vita-Barn across the street. It made me think I should pick up some supplements if I was going to be the type of person Jennifer deserved.

She had texted while I was driving over, saying she was running late. That was okay with me. The whole way over, I sweat through my shirt. I had a hunch this might happen and brought a spare shirt with me. I took off my old shirt and wiped my armpits with it. I reached into my bag for a clean one. I started to put it on and realized it was a shirt Amanda had given to me for my birthday last year.

We’d been sitting at home—me, Amanda, Sarah, and Beth. I didn’t like going out on my birthday. Once I turned twenty-one, birthdays stopped being special. On this particular birthday—my forty-second—Sarah had made a vegan cheesecake on account of her and Beth being vegan, thinking none of us would be able to tell the difference between whatever was inside it and the real thing. We were all sitting around the table eating dessert when Amanda brought out this box all wrapped up in red and white—the university’s colors. I thought I was getting a new jersey to wear to the games, but when I opened the box, there was this blue-and-white striped dress shirt in it. Amanda had this grin on her face, like she’d picked out the perfect gift for me—this traditional, boring shirt. I was disappointed, but I smiled and thanked her anyway and put the shirt in my closet. I wore it a couple of times to work but eventually forgot about it. Holding it now, I tried to remember tossing it in my bag but couldn’t. I wanted to chuck it out the window, but it was the only extra shirt I had in the car, so I put it on anyway. I told myself I’d ditch it once I started my new life with Jennifer.

Our life together was going to be about making up for all the years we missed because I hadn’t been confident enough to ask her out when we were kids. We’d start by taking a vacation to some island in the Caribbean. We’d sit on beach chairs, drinking nonalcoholic mai tais, and watch dolphins do their thing. Then we’d head back to Bloomington and settle into just being happy together.

While I was thinking about being on an island surrounded by blue ocean, Jennifer texted to let me know she’d parked in the department store parking lot and was walking over. The store was behind me, so I adjusted my mirror so I could see her walk up.

Even though it’d been over twenty years, I recognized her right away. It helped that I’d been stalking her online. She was coming from work, dressed in tan slacks and a white blouse. She wore a white wool coat that reached the middle of her thigh.

I was a little surprised when Timothy told me about his internet girlfriend. I didn’t think he had it in him to up and leave his wife like that. He seemed like the type who would have to endure that crushing feeling of loneliness for the rest of his life. When he found me at the hotel bar, I wasn’t sure if I could go through with this. Not because of Amanda or anything, but because everything I knew, all my comforts and routines, would be upended. I’d have to start cooking my own meals again, doing my own laundry. The bed would be cold when I crawled into it, Amanda not being there to warm it up for me. Everything I’d taken for granted would be gone. I didn’t know if I was willing to make those changes, but Timothy was. He was ready to ditch his marriage for this new woman, even though—as he told me in the car—he didn’t know what she looked like. I found it inspiring, him starting over. Watching Jennifer walking to the sandwich shop, still looking like a cheerleader in her lady suit, I thought if Timothy could do it, I could too.

Jennifer went into the restaurant. She looked around, like she was looking for me. I was guessing she’d cyberstalked me online and knew what I looked like. Since I was still sitting in the car, she picked out a table in the middle of the room and sat facing the door, then texted me to say she was there.

I opened the car door, set one foot on the ground, then stopped.

Jennifer still looked amazing. Her eyes were a little darker, and she had a few gray hairs. (She’d actually told me the exact number of gray hairs she’d found. It was three.) But it was still her. She still had that twinkle in her eye that said, “Sure, I’ll share my book with you.”

But still, something wasn’t right.

For starters, why me? Out of all the people she had to know—the doctors, patients, divorced parents of her kids’ friends—why did she agree to meet me? Did she think I was a sucker who’d take her away to some island for fruity drinks served in coconuts, away from her bad marriage in this cold city, just so she could leave me too when something better came along? (I didn’t know the statistics, but I imagined most second marriages ended in divorce too.) That’s probably what she was thinking—that I was a walking ATM machine with a Porsche dealership.

And even if that wasn’t the case, was she doing this for the attention? Was she going to go back to her husband and say, “Guess what? I just had a lunch date with another man,” and use it as a way to force her husband to take a long look at their marriage? I’d seen a picture of him. He was a handsome man. He had a stylish gray beard and posted pictures of himself working out. There’s no way she’d leave him for a guy who looked like the only weight he lifted was a 64-ounce soft drink.

And on top of all that, what type of person started an online affair with someone they hadn’t spoken to in twenty years, anyway? Who reached out to someone, made a connection, built trust, then after just a few weeks of texts sharing everything, including all the sad shit in their lives, said, “Hey, let’s meet up for lunch, and then I’m going to imply that if you book a hotel room, I’ll come back with you and we can play ‘fullback and cheerleader’”? What type of person did that? There had to be something seriously wrong with Jennifer if she was willing to spend her time telling me all about her life, making it sound like one of those depressing movies they show on airplanes, just to lead me on the whole time.

Then I thought about the one person who’d never led me on, never lied to me, didn’t need anything from me, and only wanted me to be the best version of myself I could be, even if that version was sober and boring. And I realized I’d been a fool to drive up here, a fool to have even been talking to Jennifer in the first place.

Jennifer sat there, looking good—crazy, but good. She texted me, asking where I was, but I blocked her number. I didn’t need that in my life.

I drove off and called up Amanda. I told her about the trip, about the hotel and all the people in costumes. We laughed when I told her about Timothy staring at this green girl’s boobs.

At an intersection I tugged on my seat belt, pulling it away from my shirt. I had to admit, it was pretty comfy for a dress shirt.