December 9, 2009

I’ve never been very good at this. Expressing my emotions to another person just seems strange, and unnecessary. She’s waiting for me to say something, anything, but not a damn thing comes to mind. Think man, think.

“I hear The Snakes are touring through here soon! You’re a fan aren’t you?”

Wow. That’s a good one. She’s going to think I’m lame now.

“Oh! Totally! The Snakes are probably one of my favorite bands, ever. Do you like them?
“Well, to be honest, I haven’t listened to them much, but they’re alright.”

Silence again. This date is definitely not going well. Maybe I’m single for a good reason. Maybe I’m just not meant to be with someone. When the hell did I get so pathetic and insecure? And why does my tie feel like it’s trying to choke me to death? What did I do to piss it off? Oh no, she’s looking at me again, with some kind of expectation. Shit. Did she ask me something?

“I’m sorry, did you say something?”
“Yeah, I asked you if orange was your favorite color or something.”
“It is actually, why?”
“Just thought it was kind of an odd color to wear for your tie. Unless it had some kind of, you know, meaning or whatever.”

Whatever indeed. Since when is it odd for a man to wear an orange tie? Does it even really matter? I mean, hell, at least I wore a damn tie. Geeze. This is great, I’m already getting upset with her and we haven’t even gone to dinner yet. Have I mentioned that this date is going great? My mother would be so proud. My mother…

Five years ago I left my mother’s house very angry. I remember slamming the front door on my way out. She was crying. What we had argued over was unimportant, what is important is the fact that I never saw my mother again. She died that night of a heart attack. I’ve always felt guilty for the way I left her. I’m a terrible son. If I could go back and change one thing, anything, it would be the way I left her that night. Instead of getting so angry I felt the need to slam the door, I would have stayed and had dinner. I would have told her that I loved her, and kissed her on the cheek before leaving. I would have stayed.

“So, where are we going exactly?”
“There’s this great pizzeria downtown that’s virtually unheard of. No kidding, best pizza you can get in this area, but not a long wait.”
“Mmm. Pizza. And then after that, the play?”
“Yes, of course. You being a theatre major, I just assumed that you liked plays. Was I wrong? We can change our plans.”
“No. That’s fine. I wanted to see Jupiter and the Men from Space anyway.”
“Well, good then! I hope you enjoy it!”

She just smiled in response and turned back to the window. As I look her over, I’m reminded that she’s absolutely gorgeous, just has absolutely nothing going on between her ears. I think the hamster died a long time ago and no one has had the guts to tell her. I don’t think even I could tell her. How do you go about telling a girl she’s dumb? “Hello, you’re very pretty and everything, but did you know that you’re daft?” Yeah, that would go over really well. I’m sure with her extensive martial arts training, that conversation would end with a good, solid kick to the groin. I groan to think of it. She really does have a smoking body though, and a beautiful face to go with it. At least she makes me look good. Definitely not somebody I think I could be with long term. Knowing her and her history though, she isn’t capable of holding a long relationship anyway. This shouldn’t be a problem. All I have to do is keep her entertained for an evening.

“We’re here!”
“It’s a mom and pop place…”
“Well, yeah. Is that a problem?”
“No. It’s cute!”

She flashed me a grin and then a little something more as she got out of my car. Long legs and a short skirt aren’t the best idea for a low sitting Mustang, unless you like flashing the other occupants in the car. Of course, being a guy, I sure didn’t mind the view. Smiling to myself, I got out of the car as well and hit the lock button. Maybe tonight wouldn’t be so bad after all.

After dinner, which was great, just like I told her it would be, we headed to the theatre to see Jupiter and the Men from Space. Really dumb title, I know. However, knowing she was a theatre major, I figured she would be stoked to see this play. It had gotten great reviews from the critics. I did my homework. I escorted her in, and once we had found our seats, got comfortable. She turned to me and smiled, making me think once again, that perhaps this wasn’t going as badly as I thought originally. Tonight was turning out to be an alright night.

The play was actually pretty good. I’m not much of a play guy, but I can understand how it got so many great reviews. She, of course, loved it.

“Oh my god! That was brilliant! Did you see the way they acted out that scene with the jumping bears? Unbelievable!”
“Yeah, that was pretty great! Not really sure how they did that!”

Or, for that matter, what jumping bears had to do with Jupiter, or the men from space. Not that I was going to say anything about that to her. Better to leave her glowing and basking in the “brilliance” of the play. Better chances of me getting lucky that way.

“Well, thanks so much for taking me out tonight… I had a really great time.” She said as she pulled on my tie and looked at me coyly. Oh yeah. Babes don’t realize the magnetic pull of the color orange. She may have thought it odd in the beginning, but chances are good she’s thinking it’s sexy now! Take that assholes!

“It was my pleasure! Really.”
“Well, you know what my pleasure would be?”

Pretty sure I do, actually, but let’s not interrupt whatever flow you’ve got going on. I smile.

“No, but I’d love to find out!”
“Why don’t you come on up to my place and we can explore this out together?”
“There’s no other place I’d rather be!”

Yep. I’m in. Orange is definitely my lucky color, and my favorite. Weird thing is, it was my mother’s favorite color too. Always went on about how it was the color of life and living in the now. Well, I’m living in the now. I’m about to go up to some hot girl’s apartment and have one hell of a night. God,  do I have to think about my mother at the same time I’m thinking about boning this girl? What a sicko.

She closes the door behind me, softly. This is a good night.

-DeAnne Evans


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