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I swear to God, this is the last time I meet up with a guy I met on the Internet.
After breaking up with Kyle, I had the genius idea to join a dating website. I figured it would be best to stay busy. I, however, did not account for the possibility of nights like this one, and I would much rather be curled up on my couch surfing Netflix.
Conner, my date for the evening, winks at me as he takes a big bite of a chicken wing, chewing loudly…with his mouth open. I shudder in disgust and push my plate away from me. How can someone be this oblivious to how nauseating he is? I mean, was he raised by wolves? Needing a distraction from Conner and his “sick” story about the toga party last weekend – his words, not mine – and how much he was able to chug before throwing up, I pull my phone out of my pocket and check for the twentieth time since we got here thirty minutes ago for a text from Trey. My heart sinks when the empty screen flashes back at me, and I resolve myself to hunt him down tomorrow and make him speak to me.
With determination, I tuck my phone back in my pocket and look up just in time to catch the end of charming Conner’s story about how hard he projectile vomited across the lawn. Am I hallucinating? I’m certain that his profile said he was twenty-five and worked at a bank. But there’s no way in hell the mess in front of me could get a job at a bar, let alone a bank.
“So, baby cakes, what is it that you do again?” he asks, tossing the bones from his chicken wing down on the table next to his plate.
“I…uh,” I stutter, unable to take my eyes off the train wreck in front of me, “I’m a graphic designer.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“Yeah. It’s really cool because I get to stay home and make my schedule. Plus, I love it when I get to do anything creative.”
“I’ve got to be honest with you, babe. I couldn’t give two shits about anything you just said. But…uh,” he says, letting his eyes trail down to my breasts, “what do you say we get out of here, huh?”
“You know what? I’ve got somewhere I have to be in the morning so I should probably get home.”
“Where? You just said you don’t gotta go into work.”
Just who the hell does this guy think he is? I don’t think I’ve ever met someone so rude in my entire life.
“That’s really not any of your business.”
He shrugs and stands, tossing his napkin to the table. “Whatever, baby. You got this, right?” he asks, motioning to the dinner he just devoured like a caveman.
“Yeah, I got it,” I reassure him. I’d pay any amount of money to get out of here right now. Without another word, he nods and leaves. I’m too relieved to be appalled at his behavior so I just signal the waiter and pay the bill. When I get out to my car, I grab my phone and fire off a quick text to Trey.
Me:
Can I come over?
I wait to see if he’ll reply while I mess with the radio and check my email for anything work related. This is stupid. I don’t know why I think that text will be the one he answers after a week of silence. I’m desperate though. I miss him so much – too much – but that’s a problem for tomorrow. After a couple of minutes, I give up and go home, alone.
