Page 108 of My So-Called Perfect Life
“Danielle,” I return his smile. “Nice to meet you.”
He takes a seat and leans his arms on the table. “Are you enjoying yourself tonight?”
I don’t know if I’d use the term “enjoying.” “This is my first time, so I’m trying to take it all in.”
He nods. “Mine too. I just got out of a relationship and thought maybe this would take my mind off Katie.”
Name dropping the ex in the first sixty seconds.Nice.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “I get it. Break ups are hard.”
“So hard,” he says before launching into more information about Katie than I’d ever want to know.
I wonder how much trouble I’d get in for pulling the fire alarm.A server passes by and I signal for another drink as Patrick tells me more about his ex. Jeez . . . what’s next, her bra size and mother’s maiden name?
This is hell. I don’t know if I can last much longer. I’m ready to be anywhere but here.
Poor Patrick is still very much in love with his ex.I feel you, Patrick. I’d rather be home with Ryan than here too.
Seven minutes is up, and another round begins
This one—Matt—comes off quiet and shy. He hasn’t said anything about himself yet, just keeps asking new questions about me. “I’ve lived here for about five years,” I reply when he asks if I am from the city. “I grew up in the suburbs and moved here after college.”
“What about you?"
He looks down at his hands and fiddles with the napkin under his drink. “I live on the outskirts of the city. Been there a couple years. I work at an accounting firm downtown and moved here for the job.”
“That makes sense,” I tell him. For some reason, I use my classroom voice. This man looks entirely unsure of himself. I feel the sudden urge to comfort and encourage him.
The shrill ring cuts through the din of the room and Matt gives me a timid smile as he stands from this seat. “Nice meeting you Danielle.”
“You, too.”
The round ends and I glance down at my watch. Biggest waste of forty-five minutes ever.
“Jack,” the next man says, offering his hand as he sits.
I take it and introduce myself, “Danielle.”
He tells me he manages a construction company.
“That sounds fun,” I say. “It seems cool to build things or make something old like new again.”
“It’s not too bad. What do you do?”
“I’m a teacher.”
“Oh, yeah? What grade?”
I smile. “Kindergarten.”
His nose wrinkles like he just smelled something bad. “That sounds horrible. How do you do it?”
This is the first time I’ve been looked at distastefully regarding teaching kindergarten. “Do what?”
“Spend all day around little kids?”
I need another drink. Stat.
