1
“So, remind me what it is you do again?”
Mike looked up, blinking at his date a few times before he fully understood the question. She was pretty, dark hair and blue eyes making a striking contrast, and she'd seemed so nice when they'd talked in the lead-up to this.
But now that they were actuallyhere, Mike felt nothing. No spark. No particular interest.
He could,maybe, have been friends with this woman—Clara—if they'd met under different circumstances. She seemed smart, and funny, and these were the things he looked for in both friends and romantic partners before he looked for anything else.
It was just that he wasn'tinterested, at all, and now he felt guilty for that. After dragging this poor woman out on a date with his sorry ass, he couldn't even manage to entertain her.
“I, uh…” Mike paused to wet his lips, glancing at the jug of water in the middle of the table and wondering how much of it he could drink before he’d seem weird. “I'm just an accounts manager. Not an accountant, I'm just kind of… glorified customer service, is all. Old rich people yell at me about why their investments aren't returning a hundred and twenty percent overnight or whatever they're expecting. Or I mean… I was, I’m between jobs right now, but I’ve got a few things lined up.”
That was a blatant lie, but if Mike understood one thing about dating, it was that describing yourself asunemployedwas a bad idea. Even if it was true.Especiallyif it was true.
“Sounds tough,” Clara said, a smile playing around her lips as she sipped her wine.
She really was beautiful. Objectively, Mike knew that.
He just didn'tcare. And he hadn't cared on the last five dates, either, with sparkling, beautiful, smart women he should have been excited by the mere existence of.
The soft glow of candlelight reflecting off crystal wine glasses and polished cutlery was starting to make him anxious. He’d struck out every time he’d been on a date in the last four months.
This was attempt number six, and Mike was ready to swear off white tablecloths for life. If he never had to go on a nice date in a nice restaurant again, he’d be happy.
Something was wrong with him, he was starting to think.
“Tough's an overstatement. I just turn up, do the same job every day, and come home. Not quite the same pressure as being a doctor.”
Andshe was a doctor. His dad would have loved her. She was a catch.
Why couldn't he make himself interested? Mike wasn't justbored, he was quickly reaching the stage of being uncomfortable.
He wanted to leave.
None of which was Clara's fault, so that just made him feel even more guilty.
“I dunno, I get a lot of elderly patients. They can be brutal when they want to be.”
Mike struggled to manage a small smile at that.
Which only drove home how much he wanted to be anywhere else.
The weight of his phone in his pocket suddenly burned, the thought that he could fake a call and get out of here floating temptingly to the front of his mind. How the hellelsewas this night going to end?
All Mike could imagine was an awkward kiss on the cheek and a lie about having a great time. Hehadn'thad a great time, but that wasn't Clara's fault, and she shouldn't have to feel bad about it.
If he wanted to end this evening without it getting anymoreuncomfortable, it was now or never.
Taking a deep breath, Mike prepared himself for a convincing performance.
“Oh,” he said, shifting his weight so he could pull his phone out of his pocket and gambling that Clara wouldn't have expected to hear it vibrate in his pocket over the background noise in the restaurant.
“Sorry, I need to take this,” Mike said, squinting at his phone screen. “Hey,” he said, lifting it to his cheek.
He could feel Clara looking at him assessingly, and he hoped he wasn't blushing as hard as he thought he was. The last thing he wanted was to make her feel bad about this.
“Oh, hey Greg,” he continued. “No, really?”
