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.
“Hey, I'm on my way,” I told my sister over the phone as I started the car engine. My ancient little Pontiac purred to life and I thanked my lucky stars. Some days she decided to drive like a dream, and on other days she was hell on wheels. Today would have been a terrible day for her not to start. There was no way I was walking back into that restaurant to get a jump start.“How was the date?” Rosie asked.“Awful,” I said, pulling out onto the main road. “It'll be great for readers. I really think they're going to eat this one up.”I could hear her moving around on her end of the phone. “You're the only person I know who gets more excited about bad dates than good ones,” she replied.“Are you moving stuff around again?” I asked, ignoring her statement.“No,” she answered defensively before sighing. “Yes. Fine. I'm moving the crib to the other side of the room. I think the draft from the window will make him cold.”I couldn't help but smile. She was so excited for her first-born child
“Kindling Dating?” I rounded on my sister as she put the cute onesie away into a closet full of onesies. “Did you really sign me up for Kindling Dating or was that just a way to get Mom off my back?”Rosie didn't answer right away. She took her time putting the new clothes into the closet and then turned to face me.“You really are signed up and you really do have a date,” she finally said. “If you want it. No pressure.”“No pressure?” I flopped into the rocking chair, nearly flinging myself right back out of it. “You told Mom. She's going to follow up on this until I marry the the poor guy!”Rosie frowned, her hand going to her swollen belly and pushing as the little boy inside of her kicked her like I wanted to do. “I thought it would be good for you. I thought you'd be happy.”“You signed me up for a dating service, Rosie,” I said, trying to calm myself by rocking. The motion was soothing, but I was still agitated. “One that costs money. There's a reason I stay on the free ones. I
“And so it is, Mr. Bathroom shall be forever memorialized for his unique ability to use a toilet as refuge from paying the bill. Ladies be warned; if you get picked up by a guy whose meal costs more than what he pays for rent, abort mission. Flee the scene. Leave before he comes back from hiding. At least today we know he gets to go back home to his mommy- let’s just all hope she preps him a little more before his next date.”My arms fell from the keyboard as I allowed them a momentary rest. This was going to make for a great post, I could already tell. Posts like these came effortlessly with the most challenging part being accurately recalling the extent of the disaster. Every little detail was required to paint the full picture of what I had dealt with, and my readers ate it up.As I was doing a final skim over the passage for any typos or grammatical errors, my phone buzzed obnoxiously on the table. I was usually good about not allowing my phone to distract me in the middle of writ
“So, what do you think, Cora?” Anticipation bubbled through my voice.“So good!” she paused, obviously re-reading a section. “I think it’s your best one yet to be honest!”I let out a grateful sigh. If my best friend Cora said a blog post was good, it was golden. She was the most honest and appreciated critic of my work.I had finished and posted my blog late last night and had woken to a barrage of comments. My readers were the reason I loved my work. It was always nice to wake up to great feedback after a long night. Their comments made all the bad dates worth it.“This is more hits than you’ve gotten in awhile, yeah?” she asked. I could hear her clicking around on her computer over the phone.“Yeah, I think so” I said, scrolling down the comments. I was glad to see such a positive response to the post. Cora was right, there were more comments and shares than I had received in awhile.“I guess Bathroom Dude was a big hit! Wait, hold on,” she said as there was a muffling noise from t
The computer screen glowed against the backdrop of the oncoming evening. The dark blue of the sky as night felt was soft and comforting like a blanket around a child. It was another warm night in Miami and the intense heat of the day had mellowed into a pleasant temperature and the humidity was actually comfortable. On a normal night, my computer screen became the only light in the room and I used it to get lost in my blog.However, this evening was different. On this particular evening I needed to research and make sure I was prepared for my date. I had gone deep into the conversation that my sister had begun. I was like a student studying over a textbook before a big test; I knew their conversation held valuable information, it was a matter of trying to dissect it and uncover his personality.The mask that Rosie had assumed while trying to imitate me was hilarious. I had already scanned their conversation several times and had paused frequently to laugh out loud. She either had no i
Here comes another great blog post, I thought, as I stood outside of the very nice restaurant and reevaluated my shoe choice. I frowned and hear Rosie's voice in my head. No, be nice. It might be great.Given my dating history, I wasn't expecting much. The best I could really hope for was that I wouldn’t get stuck with the bill like last time. If that happened at this restaurant, I’d have to go to the poor house. Dove’s was one of the nicest places in town and a two-person meal would be the same amount as a quarter of my rent.A well-dressed hostess greeted me as I entered. I was fairly sure that she made more as a waitress here than I did as a blogger.“I’m meeting someone, but I’m not sure if he’s here yet,” I explained, as I took off my sunglasses and put them in my purse. “I can just wait at the bar.”“Of course,” the woman said, as she turned and led me across the restaurant to a beautiful bar next to a giant window overlooking the ocean. “Enjoy your dinner.”She pulled the chair
“What would you like to eat?” he asked, as the waiter approached us.I hadn’t even looked at the menu. I had been too into our conversation.“Um, I’ll just take an appetizer,” I said, glancing at the menu. I picked the cheapest thing I could find. “Maybe grilled asparagus or something.”“Harper, order whatever you like,” Gabe urged, though he didn’t specifically say that he’d be picking up the tab.“I’d rather have something light, though. I’m not super hungry.” I flashed him a grin. It wasn't a lie: butterflies had begun to flow inside of me, which had put my appetite in check.What is this guy doing to me? I wondered. I was pretty sure that my blog had killed all the first date jitters, but apparently not.I stuck with the grilled asparagus appetizer and Gabe got a 10-ounce filet mignon. The waiter took our orders and disappeared around the corner. Gabe sipped his martini before fixing me with his piercing green eyes. It was impossible to not feel like the center of the universe whe
I stood up from the table and followed Gabe out of the restaurant.It had been so long since I'd even had the slightest inclination to let a date go farther. The thought actually terrified me. The butterflies in my stomach started mambo-ing.Gabe tipped the hostess as we walked through the doors and into the street. The sun dipped behind the ocean and was replaced with the fluorescent lights of the street lamps.Dove's was located along the beach in a commercial area. There was a short path to the water that would give us a nice stroll. It wasn't a long walk, but it would be a nice way to end the evening.The water rippled under the moonlight. For a moment I thought I saw a flash of a dolphin in the waves, but I was fairly sure it was just my over-excited imagination. There was no way I was lucky enough to have a good date and see dolphins. We had the path to ourselves, although we were clearly visible to everyone in the restaurant.“Have you ever been to a Blue Jays game?” Gabe asked