I’m stunned into silence again. For the life of me I can’t conceive of why eating the same thing as your date would be polite. I understand avoiding especially pungent or garlicky food, especially if you’re hoping for a kiss later, but ordering the exact same thing as your date?
“Please, feel free to order whatever you want,” I say. “I’d prefer you order something you like instead of what I like.”
He looks uncertain for a moment but finally smiles sheepishly and opens the menu.
Gray
An hour later, I’ve barely managed to make it through dinner. I was afraid Barry might be a serial killer – and maybe he still is – but it’s more likely he’s just a sweet, socially awkward man who’s probably still a virgin and is desperate to do what it takes to please a woman.
The problem is that I’m already a teacher by day. I don’t have the time or energy to instruct a man on what I want or need after hours as well. I want someone who knows what he wants and is willing to take the initiative to learn what I want on his own.
Barry walks me all the way to my car and hovers near the door as I get in. I assume he’s hoping for a kiss, but it’s not happening.
“I had a great time,” he says. “Maybe I can pick you up next time.”
Fucking hell. I can’t believe he’s still on that. For that matter, I can’t believe he thought this was a good date. The conversation was stilted at best, and I didn’t feel any connection whatsoever. Not that I plan to tellhim that now.
“We’ll see,” I say. “Good night.”
He doesn’t move, and I can’t close the door without hitting him.
“I’m sorry, I really have to get going,” I say. “I still have a lot to grade before class tomorrow.”
His smile falters, but he nods and steps back. “Yeah, no problem. I’ll text you.”
“Sure,” I say with a smile as I close the door. My neck twinges from the motion, and I rub it as I start the car.
I back up and drive out of the parking lot as quickly as I dare, keeping an eye on Barry in the rearview mirror while he heads to his own car. As soon as I turn out of the parking lot, I call Celena.
“Date over already?” she asks, her voice coming through the speakers.
“I’m surprised it lasted as long as it did,” I say. “It was awful.”
There’s a pause. “Okay, I’m just going to ask, and I’ll believe whatever you say,” Celena says. “Did you at least give him a chance? You weren’t exactly excited to go on this date earlier.”
“And I still wasn’t right up until I got to the restaurant, but C, the date was objectively bad,” I say before filling her in on the discrepancy with his picture, his belief it was polite to eat whatever I was eating, and the several other odd things Barry said and did throughout the meal.
There’s silence on the other end of the line when I’m done.
“Shit,” Celena says finally. “Thatisbad. Did he at least pay for dinner?”
“I insisted on paying for my own,” I say. “There’s absolutely no way I’m going out with him again, so I didn’t want to feel obligated to him in any way.” I pause. “Actually, I expected him to argue with me about that given his insistence on trying to pick me up, but he didn’t.”
“What does he do for a living again?” she asks.
“I don’t think his profile said, and I forgot to ask.”
“At least you get to go see Ash now,” Celena says. “That should make the rest of the evening better, no?”
“Are you serious? I just had a horrible date, my neck hurts, and I have to go stare at a gorgeous athlete all night that I have no hope of dating.”
“What makes you think you have no hope of dating him?”
I wish she could see how hard I roll my eyes at that question.
“His last girlfriend was an actress,” I say. “You do the math.”
“Whatever,” Celena says. “One of these days you’ll stop selling yourself short in the looks department.”
