Island Kisses

This was a predictably terrible first date.

I couldn't have been more pleased.

I checked my watch and sighed, waiting for him to come out of the bathroom so I could go home and write everything down about our horrible date.

Granted, he hadn't thrown up on me, no one had been mugged, my car was its original color, I didn't need a new haircut, and my shoes were still intact, so it wasn't going to make my list of Top Five Worst Dates Ever, but it was not going well.

Which suited me just fine.

First, he was late. He claimed parking trouble, but as I had found a spot in about thirty seconds and could see at least two spots from our table, I had a hard time believing that. I wouldn't have been as mad if he had just owned up to leaving late rather than making lame excuses.

He then spent the entire time talking about nothing but his very important job as mail clerk for a very important legal firm. Apparently, he was absolutely indispensable to the company, despite the fact that he'd worked there for three years and hadn't moved up the ranks at all. But, according to him, he was due for a promotion any day now.

Throw in the fact that he still lived with his mother, was staring openly at my chest, and his unwashed hair, it was the perfect example of a bad date. I was almost glad I couldn't seem to get a word in edgewise, as the more he talked, the more I was amazed at how bad our date was going.

I'd already learned six of his coworker's names and their entire work history before he gave me the opportunity to say what I did for a living. The moment really only came because he was too busy adding an entire block of cheese to his salad. When I brought up that I was a writer, he asked if I wrote those super popular vampire books. I said no, and he honestly had looked disappointed.

Yup, because an author that rich and famous with tons of Hollywood contacts would be using a free dating service and going to overpriced strip-mall Italian restaurants on a Wednesday night, I had wanted to say. Instead, I kept my mouth shut and just ate my salad instead. He went back to talking about the mail cart. I didn't mention that I didn't write books but that I wrote a successful dating blog and magazine articles instead.

It wasn't like I was going to get to say anything about it, let alone tell him my real writing dreams. Unless my boobs started talking, he wasn't interested in anything I had to say.

There was no chemistry, and, now, absolutely no conversation.

Well, it's hard to have a conversation when he spends the entire time in the bathroom, I thought to myself, checking my watch. So far he was at just over fifteen minutes in there. I understood that when you got to go, you got to go, but seriously? A first date at a nice Italian restaurant was not the place, especially when the check was sitting on the table.

“Anything else for you, miss?” the waiter asked, glancing at my date's empty seat and the equally empty check holder. I was ready to go home, and willing to pay to do it.

“Nope.” I pulled out my credit card and handed it to him. “Just put it all on there.”

At least that would let me get out of this stupid restaurant and go home. Mr. Bathroom, as I was going to call him in my next blog entry, needed to be written about. Even though the date had been terrible, at least I was going to get a good blog entry out of it. The fans of my blog, Never After Dates, would at least be entertained.

My torture was their entertainment.

I looked down at my watch again as the waiter dropped the check back with me. Nineteen minutes.

Don't worry, Dude, I telepathically said toward the men's bathroom, I already got the check. You can come back now.

As soon as he came back, I was out of here. I signed the check, noticing that he had ordered the lobster ravioli which cost twice what my spinach tortellini did. My credit card company was sure going to love me.

You'll just have to wait on those new shoes a few more weeks, I told myself. Or write something really, really good.

I didn't mind paying. I'm all for equal opportunity in the dating world. What irked me was that I wasn't asked about it. When he suggested we go to Luigi's, I had offered to go somewhere a little less pricey, but he had insisted.

Now, I could see why he had. He was the one getting the free meal.

I scowled as I signed the check with a flourish. My blog was relatively successful, but I was just squeaking by with my bills. I didn't need an eighty dollar bill out of nowhere when I normally had everything budgeted down to the last nickel.

I closed the check holder just as my date returned. He strolled up casually, as if he hadn't just missed over twenty minutes of our date by hiding in the bathroom. His hands weren't even damp. Either he took so long because he was drying them, didn't use the bathroom at all, or, ew...

“Thanks for getting that. Money's a little tight for me,” Mr. Bathroom said, settling into his chair and taking a sip of his yellow soda. “How'd you like the food here?”

“It was as good as I've heard,” I replied. I was trying not to be angry. If money was tight, we should have gone anywhere but Luigi's. Like I'd asked in the beginning. I stood up and smiled, picking up my purse. “It was nice meeting you, but I need to get going.”

His eyes widened in surprise. “I thought you were going to come back to my place. My mom's out bowling tonight.”

I blinked twice, not really sure how to respond to that. Where in the world had he gotten the idea that I was even remotely interested? I'd said all of three words the entire meal!

“Sorry,” I finally managed to get out. “I can't.”

He stared up at me like a lost puppy, but I wasn't about to fall for those eyes. It might work for his mom, but not for me. Especially after footing an eighty dollar meal after asking for a different restaurant. Luckily, he gave up quickly.

“Well, Hannah, it was really nice to meet you.” He didn't get up from the table to offer me a hug or a handshake, and I was glad. I didn't want to touch him since I wasn't sure of the cleanliness of his hands.

“It's Harper. My name is Harper, not Hannah.” I shouldered my purse and took a step back. “Have a great rest of the night.”

“I'll call you!” he yelled out after me through the quiet restaurant. The other patrons all stopped talking and stared as I walked by. Yup. This was a good date.

I simply waved and hurried out the front door as quickly as possible. Mr. Bathroom was going to make a great post for the Never After Dating series. Right up there with Mr. Small-Time Drug Lord and Mr. Ex-Con Drunk.

At least he hadn't puked on me.