It's all a game, isn't? Just a loose, undefined list of rules that aren't written down anywhere, but seem to appear whenever two people make each other feel "funny". Don't send another email. Wait. Don't seem too eager. It's exactly the type of self-consciousness you feel when somebody's about to take your picture. How desperate will this make me look? You have to wait. If you get her number in a bar, wait three days, then call. NO. She won't call you first. Well, maybe. But don't count on it. Wait. Then call. If you like her, wait three days to tell her.
Games change over time. Or maybe it's just what you stand to win, that changes. Playing cards used to remind me of trying to glean the finer points of euchre from my grandparents while watching them play at the cottage. Then it became playing games like "speed" and "asshole" with the cute girls who came to the place next door from ours. There we'd be, hiding from our parents in the woodshed - the sounds of our laughter and reckless abandon leaking through the walls, giving us away every time. What are you kids up to? Nothing. Just playing cards. Adolescence changed the nature of the game. Don't 'go swimming', go skinny-dipping! You follow?
They're having dinner. He suggested the place. She suggested the time. After work means he'll look extra kick-ass because he wears a suit. She's effortless and doesn't worry about it. New restaurant. He's been here before, for wine but not for food. She's been meaning to try it. Little plates. Meant for sharing. Weird combinations. Menu changes every week. He walks to the place, confidence growing with every step. Pictures her smile from the profile pick as he walks. Almost walks into moving traffic. Steady. Runs through a mental note of shared characteristics he's saved up. Talk to her about the theatre. Talk to her about politics. Talk to her about writing. Don't talk too much. Don't bore her into a stupor so that you have to pick her face out of the soup bowl. Checks his phone. Plenty of time. Shit, might be a little early. Pictures himself sitting alone waiting for her to join. Candle light for company. Waitress bringing water for conversation. Paces outside the place for several minutes before deciding it's cold enough to wait inside. Heads inside. Hostess looks at him. Takes his coat. It's one of those places. Follows Hostess upstairs. Minimalist atmosphere. Chairs and tables look back-breakingly modern. Two rows of diners jammed together. We're all listening to your first date conversation. HA!
Sits. Waits. Checks emails while he waits. Painfully typical. Waitress brings water. Yes, he's waiting for another person. Reservations in my name. Does she know my last name? My first name is too common. Shit. Didn't give her my last name. Waits. Sips water. Waits. Knows she looks beautiful but this is the part where he wonders if that's actually her in the picture or not. Because you hear all kinds of stories. That's actually my cousin. Yeah, that's me...five years and a hundred pounds less ago. No. It's her. She sounded hot in her text messages.
Drinks a glass of water. Then another. Kind of has to pee. Can't get up though. What if she comes by and I'm not here? She'll think I left or something. Calm down. And try not to ring your bladder out all over this chair. (That would be something of an introduction. Yeah, hey, I was just in the middle of pissing myself...how are you? Extend your hand out of routine, ignorant to the piss that's dripping from your fingers.) Relax, bud. It's really just the condensation from the glass of water you've been cupping for the last five minutes. Sits. Waits. Should have got a hair cut. Damn. This is like a job interview. Hi, so you got my add for a boyfriend. Do you have any references? Sits. Waits. Three cleansing breathes. One...two...
Hi. He gets up as she's making her way through the crowd. Last cleansing breath aborted.
She sits down. They sit down. She slides off her coat. He can't wipe the smile off of his face. She is pretty. She looks up at him. They both smile. He speaks first. So how are you? Good, glad to be out of the office. Me too. So you've never been here before. Blah. Blah. Blah. No. Haven't eaten the food, no. Drank the wine though. Speaking of wine. Yes. Drink menu. They peruse in silence. Subtle glances over the menu say smiles. Nice to finally meet you in person, he says. Yeah, you too, she agrees. And now the people at the table next to them can see this is a first date going down. (They stay for dessert.)
They order wine. He a red. She a white. First nothing-to-say look around the room occurs. All the fancy people. Restaurant policy is wear a uniform. He just looks at her and smiles. She always seems to smile back. What else can you do? Wink? No, that would be weird. They get the wine and spend a few minutes talking about wine. They look at the menus and spend a few minutes talking about the food. They put what with what? Really? Sounds weird. NO. It's trendy. OH. Okay.
They order something they can share. Then look into their wine glasses with despair.
Then he asks for her thoughts on online dating. So stupid. Says she's on there too so she can't really knock it. He agrees. Drinks more wine. She looks bored and he's recently found out that he has nothing to say. The food comes, they eat it. More wine comes, they drink it.
She asks for a refill and he pours her more. Wishing there was more than just the bottle between them.
~ to be continued ~
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