Page 6 of Sweeter Than Fiction

Abby

“So, what do you do for fun?” My date, Justin, asks me from across the table.

“I like to knit,” I reply. “And watch TV. Sometimes, I like to put together a jigsaw puzzle.”

If I didn’t feel like a loser saying the words, I certainly do when I see the look on Justin’s face.

“Is that it?” He asks.

No. Any other spare time I have I spend having orgies.

Wanting to take the spotlight off myself, I ask, “What about you?”

“I like to watch a lot of sports.” ‘

Strike one.

“And go clubbing.”

Strike two.

“I try to hit the gym as much as possible.”

And you’re out.

This date is going horribly so far. I don’t know what Jenson was thinking setting me up with this guy. I think he’s a pretentious jerk, and he probably thinks I’m a freak.

I swapped out my typical glasses for contacts, and they irritate the shit out of my eyes. Justin first thought I was awkwardly winking at him. Then, he asked if I had a nervous tick.

Even with my contacts and my uncomfortable clothes, I can tell that Justin doesn’t think I’m anything wonderful to look at. In fact, he’s barely looked at me at all, opting to gawk at the busty redhead at the next table.

Clearly, this date isn’t going the way either of us thought it would.

He asks what I do for a living, and I tell him I’m a design software engineer who primarily works from home.

When I ask him the same question, he responds, “Oh, I’m actually between gigs right now. I worked at a gym but ended up getting fired for being lewd with the customers.”

My face scrunches up as I wonder what exactly his lewd behavior was. Better yet, I don’t want to know.

Our food arrives, and I stare at my plate in almost as much disgust as I have for Justin. He insisted on ordering for me and ignored my comments about my food allergies. Now, I can only eat a fraction of what’s in front of me.

Justin doesn’t seem to notice, though, because he digs right in.

With a full mouth, he asks, “So, have you popped out any puppies yet?”

Is this guy imitating Judd Nelson from The Breakfast Club or something?

“Uh, no. Not yet.”

“What a relief. Do you know how hard it is to find a chick who hasn’t already been ruined by children?”

Maybe as hard as it is to find someone who isn’t an asshole.

He’s about to make it even worse. “I’ve slept with some of them, and let me tell you, their downstairs business just doesn’t hold up.”

Now, maybe at this point, I should give this guy some hell—tell him how much of a dick I think he is.

But that’s problematic for a few different reasons.

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