CHAPTER ONE

MONDAY

BLAINE

I felt like my mind was going numb from answering a bunch of seemingly trivial questions about myself. The site allowed me to write short answers, which I was thankful for. Some sites had a generic "yes or no" section that I felt was too rigid and didn't allow you to explain your choices. Besides, answering from a selection of answers doesn't allow your personality to shine through.

Do you drink?Sometimes
Do you smoke?No. Well, not often enough to say sometimes.
Do you do drugs?No.
Are you a morning or evening person?Evening. Waking up before 8am is a chore.
Are you an indoor or outdoor person?Both?
What's your ideal vacation?A driving tour through Ireland.
Do you think you want to have kids?would depend on the guy since I wouldn't want to intentionally raise a kid without a partner. Besides, I'm not at a place to make that decision right this minute.

I wasn't thrilled with that answer, but it was the truth. I feel like it's too early to decide on those things – I'm only 26 for god's sake.

I scrolled down and the only thing left on the page was the Next button. Oh, thank god. That was all of the questions. Not so bad.

Wait, I'm only 60% of the way done with this thing? I feel like I've been sitting here forever. What else can I possibly have to say about myself?

Oh, great. Long-form questions.

"This is the hardest part," I whined as Santana brought me a cup of coffee. "I hate filling out these long questions about myself. They ask so many and I feel really conceited writing about all of the, what do they say, 'ways in which I'm The One for you' - I mean, come on."

She laughed as she set the coffee down and pulled a chair up next to mine. Thankfully the office was abandoned since it was after 5, so she and I could fill out my profile without being interrupted by any of our prying co-workers. "I'm sure it's awkward B, but I can help you with that. Maybe seeing yourself through someone else's eyes will help."

"That sounds good," I said as I lifted the coffee cup to my lips to take a sip. "Let's get crackin'"

"Okay, first of all, don't say that anywhere in your profile. It's the epitome of cheese."

"Whatever. I already filled out the basic information – height, body type, hair color – and answered some short questions about my daily habits and whatnot, but now comes to the other, longer questions. Okay, 'what are you looking for in a partner?' I guess they pull out the big guns right away."

"Just write 'a hot man who's a killer between the sheets.' Put it out there from the get-go," she taunted.

"Come on, San. Let's try to be serious here. But Jesus, that question is pretty horrible and open ended," I said with a groan.

She nudged me playfully. "Sure, it's not the best question. But they just want to make sure that whoever is reading this is clear about your intentions before they keep going. Some people probably just want a good lay, others want friends with benefits, others more of what you want. Trust me, it'll help you when you're browsing profiles. Lord knows it helped me weed out a bunch of crazy bitches when I first joined," she said, taking a gulp of coffee.

I stared at the screen for a minute, trying to think of the way to start what would feel like the novel known as Blaine's Feelings About Relationships. A few minutes of hurried typing later, I felt satisfied with my answer – trying to be as concise as possible.

"Okay, how about this? 'More than anything, I'm looking for a partner/companion – someone who will be my equal in life and in love. He should fight for me and fight with me. He should help make me a better person and who can teach me the ways that I can support and love them. I also want someone that I can come home to, who is willing to put up with my cheesiness, who doesn't mind if I leave my clothes lying next to the hamper rather than in them, and someone who would consider me their best friend. I'm looking for that once in a lifetime love, one that defines a generation.' Oh, god, does that sound really conceited? I said 'I' a lot. Shit, I don't want some guy to think I'm really self-involved."

I looked over from my keyboard to an astonished Santana. "I – uh – I think that'll work," she said, practically stuttering over her words as they escaped her mouth. "Wow. Blaine, that's really beautiful. The way you described what you wanted... it's really nice. Why aren't you in our licensing group? You should write songs with the way you just strung those words together out of thin air."

"Nah, it's not really my thing. I like working with people, not feeling like I need to write something on command like a Labrador." Taking another sip of coffee, I moved on. "Next. 'What kinds of activities would you ideally like to share with your partner?' That seems a little less heavy than the last question, that's for sure."

"Yeah, and at least I can help you with this one."

"San, how do you know what I'd want to do with the future Mr. Anderson?"

"I know what things you like to do considering we've done a lot of them together, obviously," she said rolling her eyes at myapparentinability to realize that she knew who I was. "You love to go to shows and listen to music all the time, you also love karaoke bars, you love libraries and bookstores because you're a giant nerd, you'd cook all day if you had the choice, you enjoy running in the park... I'm sure you'd want to do most of those activities with this guy you're going to meet."

"I guess you're right. Should I also add that another one of the activities I'd like to share with my partner is blowjobs?" I asked, grinning. If Santana was going to write about me, I'm sure she'd add in some quip about sex. She loved to push my boundaries from time to time.

"Blaine Anderson – you nasty dog. Do you even remember what it's like to get a blowjob? It's been awhile, I'm sure your memory is rusty."

"Bitch. That's what I get for trying to inject humor into this awkward situation. Jesus, you know me too well." God, she had a point though. When was the last time I had any remotely sexual contact? The thought that I couldn't remember made me shudder as I clacked away at the keys typing in my answer.

"You know I will outdo you when it comes to anything involving sexual prowess or innuendo, so don't even bother. Alright, now that I helped with that question, what's next?"

I scrolled down to find the next question. "How would you describe your personal style or appearance?"

She laughed. "Have fun trying to explain – that," she said, gesturing to my clothing choices.

"Oh come on, it's not like I dress bad, San," I replied, slightly offended. "I think I'm pulling off a classy look here." People who knew me way back when would probably think my style hadn't evolved much from high school – button down shirts, sweater vests, and Clark Gable-esque hair. I had moved on slightly with my hairstyle, preferring one that embraced the natural waves in my hair, and traded in my wingtips and dress shoes for more comfortable Converse or boots. The sweater vests and bowties were no more – favoring plain colored button downs and skinny ties more than the clothes that made younger me appear a little too Orville Redenbacher. Once I felt like I'd sufficiently described my clothing and style choices, I glanced at the next question.

"Ugh."

"What now?"

"It's asking me to write a paragraph about myself. This is even worse than the first question." Writing about yourself always feels so forced in online dating profiles. The pressure is on to try and write about your entire life story in around 1,000 characters that appears pithy, smart, engaging, and interesting – enough to make you appeal to someone who might be interested in you. God, this was going to suck.

"Here, let me try," Santana said, grabbing the keyboard out from under my hands.

"San, please don't..."

She glared at me. "I won't write anything embarrassing and I will let you read it before I hit submit, okay? At least this is the last step – the torture of setting up your online dating profile is nearly over."

I shrugged. It can't hurt. And it'll give me time to get another cup of coffee. "Fine. I'll give you a few minutes so I'm not looking over your shoulder as you try to make me sound like less of a dweeb. Do you want another cup of coffee?"

"I don't think I can make you appear like less of a dork, but I'll certainly try my hardest. And no thanks on the coffee; I don't know how you'll sleep tonight with all that caffeine you've ingested today," she added as she shooed me away from the computer.

"Thanks for the boost of confidence," I said as I nearly nudged her out of her seat as I passed by. "And I have to check out a new band tonight, so I'll need all the energy I can get. Those shows last until 2am and I'm an old geezer who likes to be in bed by midnight." I sighed as I raised myself to my feet. "Work your magic, I'll be back in a few."

After strutting back to the break room and poured myself another cup of coffee, I couldn't help but think about the gravity of this choice. It's really easy to join an online dating site on a whim, but this really could change my life. What if I actually meet someone from here? What if we end up dating for a long time and break up? What if we date for a long time and end up getting married? Shit. I mean, I am lonely and I do want to meet The Guy that I've been looking for, but am I really ready to potentially give up my life as a single person in order to share it with another person? Am I ready to find someone who I can bring home to my family? I really should think about how this will impact my life a little more before I start going on a ton of dates with guys. But this is not something I need to think about right now - especially now that I needed to find the hazelnut creamer that makes this offensive low-grade coffee somewhat ingestible.

After finding the creamer and loading my coffee with more sugar to dull the taste, I went out to join Santana who was focused intensely on the computer. She must've heard me approach, because she looked up at me and grinned with a knowing look on her face. "I think I've got it, B."

"Let me at it," I said as I plopped down next to her. As my eyes ran over each word, they brought a smile to my face and even toward the end, I might have felt a little misty-eyed. Not that I'd ever tell Santana.

After I finished reading, I looked over at Santana who sat there smugly, knowing she had succeeded in her task. "I think you nailed it, San." I clicked submit and said a silent prayer in my head, hoping for the best.

KURT

Is it wrong that I love answering questions about myself? I don't think I'm conceited – well, not extraordinarily so – but it reminds me of those times when I was in high school and I would fill out quizzes from Cosmo with Mercedes that would give better insight into my personality or love life or something. It's funny how the small questions end up defining so much of a person's being.

And thankfully, I didn't have to answer just yes or no to these questions. I hate being confined to a box of set responses... they simply would never do my personality justice by droning on with 'yes' or 'no.'

Do you drink?Socially.
Do you smoke?I smoked once in high school... from the wrong end of the cigarette. No plans on reliving that moment anytime. Ever.
Do you do drugs?Hell no. (Just not my thing)
Are you a morning or evening person?Morning. There's something exciting about a clean slate every morning to make your mark on the day.
Are you an indoor or outdoor person?Indoor.
What's your ideal vacation?A trip to Paris and the French countryside, traveling by train.
Do you think you want to have kids?Maybe. It seems a bit early to decide these things, but I think if I met The One, I'd want for us to come to that decision together.

That's a good answer, right? Trying to decide what to do about the potential of kids just seems way too big of a decision to make when I'm only 26 – almost 27 – and single.

"How's it coming, killer?" Wes brought me a cup of hot cocoa as he sat down on my bed. Somehow Wes' presence made me feel a little self conscious about doing this whole online dating thing. I looked at him over the rim of the mug he'd just placed at my side as I brought it to my lips. "Do you think I'm crazy for doing this?"

He shook his head. "Nah. I do wonder if now is a good time for you, though. You're always so busy. Do you think that you'll be able to juggle a relationship with your travel schedule?"

Oh, crap. I forgot to tell Wes.

"Well... actually, there's been a change. I decided I was kind of over the whole touring thing when we made a stop in Tampa. I realized that running around the country for months on end was not exactly how I imagined it to be. I wanted to spend time while we were in Florida at the beach, but in reality I never left the hotel or the theater. I didn't even go to the Starbucks around the corner because I didn't have time."

He looked at me, puzzled. "So, you just up and quit your job? That doesn't seem very like you, Kurt."

I rolled my eyes. Does heeverlisten? "I didn't say that I quit, Wes. Actually, I applied - and was hired - for a job here in New York. Which, unfortunately for you, means I'll be around a little more often these days. Hope that's – " I didn't even get to finish my sentence before Wes was practically squeezing the life out of me with his hug.

"That's awesome! I've missed having you around. Who knew I'd actually miss you?" he joked as be backed into his spot on the bed.

"Geez. Who knew that the guy who made us rehearse until the end of time in college choir would be the guy who would be my roommate in New York City and would actually miss me! You never fail to surprise me." He was totally embarrassed; he hated when he got overly huggy. He wasn't a big hugger, though he definitely had developed a soft spot for me over time.

"Oh please. You've missed me too. But really, it'll be nice to have you around more than just one weekend per month," Wes added as he gulped down more of his cocoa. "So, what part of the online dating profile are we at now?"

I scrolled down and clicked the next button. "Oh, good! The long form questions!"

"I think you might be the only person who enjoys answering questions about himself. Don't you think that's a bit weird?"

"I don't think so. It allows me to really think and be attuned to what I truly feel about myself and the world. More than anything, it's a lesson about me more than it is about explaining myself. And besides, should I really date someone if I don't know who I am first?" I said, turning my attention away from Wes before starting with the first question. "Alright, first up. 'What are you looking for in a potential partner?' That's a fairly open question."

Wes peered at me, curiously. "Whatareyou looking for? As long as I've known you, you've never really had a 'type' - you flit from guy to guy without any real consistency in terms of appearance, career path, life goals... I hope you can actually define what you're looking for, Kurt. Seems like it will be a tall order."

"It's not like I've brought home that many guys for you to see. There was that guy Paul, the one guy I met at Blake's whose name and phone number I promptly forgot when he decided to take my favorite coat on his way out, and..."

"William."

"Yes, and him. But that's three. In, what, five years? And sure, they were all different, but it's not like I didn't learn anything from them. I think I know what I want now. And not just in terms of appearance, I'll have you know."

I stared at the screen for a minute. Was Wes right? Did I really know what I wanted or was I just being stubborn to prove a point? I sat for a minute longer before Wes interrupted my thoughts.

"You know what you want, Kurt. I was just busting your chops. Don't let me being an ass hinder you from writing it out."

I laughed. "Oh, are you finally admitting that you're an ass? Alert the media!"

He scoffed. "Jerk. See if I ever bring you hot cocoa again."

"Please. It's October, it's not like we won't have it a million more times before spring. They're predicting a pretty cold winter this year. And I know you can't resist making it."

He rolled his eyes. "Whatever. Okay, so... this question."

"Give me a minute. I'll read it to you when I'm done, okay?" Geez, he's more impatient than me sometimes. Alright, I need to think about this. What do I want? What.. do... I... want?
I typed away, writing down the first things that came to my mind.

Wes glanced over my shoulder and started reading aloud. "Hmmm. 'The short and long of it boils down to one thing - partnership. Friendship and love are essential for creating a solid relationship and I'm looking for someone I can truly call my partner - and not just in a politically correct way. I want to love him and care for him and I want him to do the same for me. I want him to call me out when I'm hogging the covers, I want him to make me laugh, I want him to hold my hand, I want him to show me what love is. I'm hoping for a friend, lover, confidant, supporter, and - of course - partner... occasionally in crime. I want me to be his everything because I know that Mr. Right will truly be my everything - the one I'll love forever.' That's pretty good, Kurt. Not too sappy or anything," he said, moving his hand to his face.

I peered at him. Oh god. "Are you crying?"

"Don't judge me Kurt! I'm not a man with a icy heart. I have feelings," he said as he clutched his cheeks in fear. I wanted to chide him a bit more, but I didn't want to push my bounds too much. Clearly he was having an emotional day... or something.

"Okay, moving on. 'What kinds of activities would you ideally like to share with your partner?' That's easy enough," I said as I happily typed in my answers. Nothing too unusual - cooking, dancing, enjoying the arts. No need for Wes to hear about that part, he knew what I liked.

"Shouldn't you add something in about whatothertypes of things you might want to do?" he suggested with a wink. God, what a perv.

"Are you sure you're not still 17 and in high school? I don't see you in that fancy private school uniform, so I'll take that as a no," I stated. Maybe it was a straight guy thing, but somehow the guy was always thinking about sex. Sure, I think about sex plenty myself. But he's way more... vocal... about it. "Alright, last question."

"Ooh, do tell, Mr. Hummel," Wes said, practically bouncing at the possibility to help me with this dating profile at some point - and this being his final chance. I rolled my eyes. I hated it when he called me Mr. Hummel. It made me feel old.

"The most stereotypical of them all. 'Tell us about yourself in one paragraph.' No bells and whistles. But I have 1,000 words so let's be sure to get it perfect."

"Let's get crackin' - we have to get your profile up ASAP. I want to meet the future Mr. Hummel sooner rather than later."

"Where did you come up with such a horrible phrase? It's so corny," I said with slight disdain. He said that all the time and it always kind of grinded my gears.

He shrugged his shoulders. "I dunno. Okay, seriously, onto the question. How do you want to get this answer started? I feel like it might be kind of abrupt to just say 'Hi I'm Kurt!' - don't you?"

"Yeah, but we can figure something out. Though I'm pretty sure I can figure most of this paragraph out by myself, but I'll let you add anything I leave out, deal?"

"I can accept those terms," Wes stated with a nod.

"Geez, you're such a lawyer sometimes." Weswasa lawyer, so it wasn't an insult to call him one, though I certainly tried to insult his profession. With all the lawyer jokes out there and Wes being an easy target, I couldn't help myself sometimes.

For the first time since I started my profile, I actually wasn't sure what to say. There's a lot of weight in how you describe yourself in these things. Aside from the photo - which I still needed to choose... and that decision would take forever - it was the second thing people would look at. It has to fully describe as much of me as possible and it's a pretty daunting task. Instead of writing down everything, I decided to just write down bulletpoints before I handed my laptop over to Wes. "Since you want to help, write me something that utilizes these points in 1,000 words. Think of it as your assignment. I'm going to get a load of laundry started and maybe by the time I'm done, you'll have something I can read. Sound good?"

He grabbed the laptop eagerly and licked his lips. "Perfect."

"Please don't make me sound dumb, Wes. And do not send it before I read it." He kept typing feverishly. "I'm not kidding!"

He waved me away and I trudged to the laundry room. Sure, I'd trust Wes with my life. I trusted him with my clothing, which was kind of my life, so I could assume he'd do alright with my personal statement. Right? I carefully lowered the clothes into the water and shut the lid on my jeans before heading back to the room.

Wes was reading whatever he had written with a smug look on his face. "You ready to be amazed?" he asked as I resumed my place at my desk. I nodded sheepishly and took the open laptop from his hands and started reading.
I was astonished. Wes really was incredibly articulate, sweet and endearing when he wanted to be.

After reading four sentences, I hit submit as Wes beamed at me, clearly proud of his abilities. Once I received the notification that my profile was accepted, I closed the lid on my laptop and sighed.

Let the games begin.