Page 1 of Perfect Date
1
The bartender is really good looking and causes tingles to appear all over my body - so I tell myself not to stare. Every time I’ve been here - which is more than a few times now - he’s here. And each time as he effortlessly prepares and serves drinks from behind the bar, the twinkle lights hanging above him make his eyes sparkle so brightly that I’m drawn like a moth to a porch light, even though I’m across the room. How he’s able to appear so friendly, engaged, and relaxed while meeting the needs of the various patrons sitting at the bar, while at the same time filling the myriad of drink orders brought to him by the wait staff, fascinates me.
Before I give more applause, I remind myself being able to do such things is typical of a bartender, but then steal another look. Tonight, he’s wearing a blue chambray shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and his killer smile comes fast and easy as he speaks to guests while making them their drinks of choice. Watching him is a nice distraction from the nerves rolling through my belly making my spine straight, and my knee bounce.
The door to Greedy Goose opens once again and my stomach drops immediately then settles in relief when I see a woman walk through the door. Sighing, I ask myself yet again why I’m doing this even though I know the answer. It doesn’t change the fact that first dates arethe worst. And when you’ve never met the individual in person, well, it’s worse than worse.
It doesn’t matter how many times you talk to someone before you meet face-to-face, the experience still sucks. The expectations and all of the concerns: worrying about what to wear, if the conversation will flow, if they’ll like me, will I like them, will they think I’m attractive in person, will I think they are? Will they be as engaging and interesting in person as I’ve found them online so far – or has it all been one big smoke screen, resulting in a huge waste of time?
I tell myself to think positive.
Perhaps this will result in something meaningful, maybe even the beginning of a love connection. But even as I try to be affirming and reassuring, doubt and nerves creep in again and I wonder if this will be a disaster.
Gulping down another swallow of my margarita, I wish for the alcohol to quickly take effect, craving the relaxation I know it will bring. Ice clinks as the liquid disappears, and I reluctantly place it on the wooden table. Licking salt from my lips, I jump in my seat a little when I hear, “Can I get you another?”
My eyes sweep up over six feet of good looking male until I meet dreamy dark eyes. They’re looking at me questioningly and with apology, clearly aware he’s startled me. The wide and inviting smile I was assessing just minutes ago, is now standing up close and personal at my table. It occurs to me that I don’t think I’ve ever seen him on this side of the bar, so I pause before I reply, enjoying a nice long look.
A good strategy. It doesn’t disappoint. Not at all.
“Hi,” I breathe and his smile widens, “Yeah- yes - another would be great, thank you.”
“You got it, house margarita, right?”
“Right.”
“Salt on the rim?”
“Yes, please.”
He winks at me, grabs my empty glass, and disappears. I unashamedly turn my head to watch him walk away and sigh thankful that I did.
When I turn back around, grateful to not have been caught, my breath catches when the door opens again, but when I see blonde hair, I know it’s not Chad, my date, because he’s a red head.
At least he is in his profile photo.
According to his dating profile he’s twenty-five, works as a clerk in the Mason Creek courthouse, is close to his three brothers, and has lived in Mason Creek his whole life. In his spare time, he likes going out to eat, spending time outdoors, and apparently has a vintage car collection which he seems very excited to show me. Admittedly, I’ve had daydreams imagining myself going for a ride in the vintage mustang convertible he says is his baby. As I again conjure a picture of speeding down the open roadway, feeling carefree with windswept hair and mutual smiles from ear to ear, another easy smile forms on my face.
This will be great; I know it will. What a great first date I chose to get my feet wet!
Listen to me being all positive and stuff. I can do this. I have faith in the decision I made a few weeks ago to start a dating profile on Get Paired.
One late Saturday night, a few weeks after relocating, I was feeling particularly sorry for myself. I was wishing I had someone to go out with, even had an unexpected and strange urge to go dancing. But I knew I wouldn’t go off by myself; doing so isn’t in my comfort zone. I realized only I could do something about it. If I wanted change, I’d have to make it happen. I decided creating a dating profile would be a great way to put myself out there and meet someone.
Since creating the account, I’ve connected with and even talked to a few men, but Chad and I are the first to meet in person. Our talks progressed naturally from simple chit chat to him asking to meet me face to face.
The next time the door opens, my breath catches and my stomach twists harder this time because I know Chad has just walked inside - he looks just like his photo.
Here we go.
No turning back now.
He looks around the room and when his eyes land on mine, I give him a little wave and a shy smile. He smiles immediately and I stand as he approaches the table, “Hi, Chad.”
“Hello, Charlotte,” he smiles even wider and places what looks like a briefcase onto the floor. He’s wearing dark pants and a white shirt with a red tie. It makes sense considering he’s likely come from work. I did too, sort of. I slipped home to change first.
Trying not to make a face at his use of my full name, I’m reminded to change my name on my dating profile. At first, I thought it sounded more feminine, more authentic even, but I don’t care, it’s not what I’m comfortable with so I tell him, “Call me Charlie, please.”
“Charlie? LikeCharlie and the Chocolate Factory?” He snickers.
