Page 12 of Perfect Date
“Yeah, I’m so sorry. I got caught up speaking to a potential client. Forgive me,” he smiles shyly and I find myself smiling back.
“Charlie, I’ll talk to you later,” Justin says as he stands and walks away without another glance before I can even respond.
My shoulders fall and I stare after him for a minute, feeling disappointed at the loss, but realize quickly that I’m being rude. With a little shake of my head, I push a smile onto my face and turn back to Eric.
Here we go, date number two. At least I’m certain it can’t go as horribly as the last one.
4
Aglass is placed on the wooden table before me - a refill - but it’s not Justin that brings it. As the waitress Justin clearly sent walks back to the bar, I try not to feel disappointed that he didn’t return to the table himself.
Sitting with my back to the bar, you’d think I wouldn’t be aware of Justin, but instead it feels like there’s an electrical current that runs between us. It’s so palpable, I almost expect to see a thread in the air connecting the two of us. I’m so aware of his presence, it makes the hair lift on the back of my neck.
Doing my best to shake it off and push the invading thoughts of him away I smile at Eric, “Do you want to order something to eat?” I ask.
“Yeah, absolutely. I’m starving,” he nods enthusiastically while he looks over the menu and doesn’t say another word. I pick up my own menu and pretend to look at it too.
“Hi, I’m Darinda and I’ll be taking care of you tonight!” Our bubbly waitress suddenly appears at our table with a smile and I sigh with relief thankful for the break in silence. I used to talk fast and non-stop when I was nervous and there were awkward silences. I’ve gotten that under control some, but was ready to hop back into that habit with both feet. Saved by the happy waitress.
“Can I start you two with an appetizer? It looks like you have a drink already,” she says to me, then turns to Eric, “what can I get you to drink?”
“First, can you please put us on separate tabs?” Eric asks and it takes me by surprise. I mean, it’s ok, I don’t expect him to pay for me, but with the way Darinda looks at him, then me, and back again, I feel like there’s suddenly a spotlight on my face and a microphone in front of my mouth waiting to see how I’ll respond. My face flushes and I give her a small shrug doing my best to keep my mouth closed.
Should I make this strike one? I can’t decide.
“Of course,” she pastes a smile onto her face, but I can see the various emotions that cross it. Interest, confusion, but mostly curiosity. I can tell she’s trying to establish the relationship between the two of us, but she’s also totally wondering what I’m thinking right now.
“Going dutch is cool with you, right?” Eric asks while peeking at me over the top of his menu.
“No, yeah, of course, yes, sure. That’s fine,” I stammer.
“No, yeah?” He laughs making fun of my wording. “Which is it?”
Yeah, that’s definitely strike one.
“Going dutch is fine,” I force a smile.
“Excellent,” he nods.
We each take turns placing our order and when she leaves, I try to think of something to talk about. His making fun of me irritates me a bit, and it feels like all other thought has left my brain.
After I made my dating profile, I actually looked up on Google, ‘first date conversation topics’. I wanted to be prepared - again hating awkward lapses in conversation and not wanting to fill them by being a blabbering, bumbling idiot. One of the first pieces of advice Google had to offer was to build on what you know. Given this, I do my best to remember what Eric listed as his interests on his dating profile.
“So, you’re from Texas, right? I remember that’s what your profile says.”
“I sure am,” he nods, but he definitely doesn’t have an accent. And no hat or respectful tilt. I admit I feel a little disappointed. “I was actually born in Arizona and lived there for a while.”
Well, that explains the lack of accent.
“We moved to Texas before I started sixth grade. I lived there until my parents divorced when I was sixteen. My mom came here to be closer to her sister and family, and I came along.”
“Do you miss it? Texas, I mean?”
“No, because I get back often to see my dad. I spent the summers with him there and the school years here. I still consider Texas ‘home’ too.”
“That’s great - that you were able to still see your friends back home in the summer, I mean.”
“Yeah, it worked out well.”
