I wrote this on another website with this prompt:
You are going on a blind date for Valentine's Day. In case the date is a dud, you have your best friend on standby. Your friend is to call you at 9:30 on the dot. If the date is going well, you answer and use the phrase "I already took care of that." If it's not, you answer and claim your friend has an emergency. The date is going well and your friend calls at 9:30 as planned—only problem is, the friend calls with a real emergency. What is it and what do you do?
I met my blind date at the restaurant's bar, sipping on my Blue Hawaiian slowly as to not get a head rush. I appraised him as he walked toward me in the outfit he promised he'd wear for me to recognize. Black shirt that was sinfully tight and..plaid pants? Dear God, did he just step out of a golf course? He had shiny, spiked hair that looked really good on him. His face was not too bad, either. Broad shoulders and he was tall. Really tall, as in basketball player tall. Rose never gave me any details about our setup. Strangely enough, he had a backpack with him. Was that a large man-purse?
"Hi, I'm Bella," I said, timidly, as I craned my neck steadily. It became quite uncomfortable, so I looked down, wondering if he thought me pretty. He hadn't called me ugly and run, so I guessed that was a good start.
His eyes, darting left to right, settled on me and he smiled, taking wide steps to come to me. "Hello. I'm Edward." He ran a hand through his non-existent long hair, as if forgetting its length in his nervousness.
I didn't want to over-step by taking his hand, so I grabbed my drink and guided him to go back to the lobby with a slight arm wave and let the attendant know we were both here.
5 minutes later, much to the disgruntlement of everyone else who had been waiting longer, we were called. The host walked us to a table by the window and I could see a beautiful sunset as the beginning to our date. Perhaps, this was a good sign.
What wasn't a good sign, was me tripping and accidentally spilling my drink all over his shirt. I was embarrassed and sure he'd leave me after the awful introduction. He chuckled and shook his head, as if to say it's ok that you're completely uncoordinated. He held up a finger and motioned to the restroom. I stayed close the the restroom, ensuring he didn't give me the slip. This turned out to be smart on my account, since I could see him looking around, eyeing the door. He was now wearing a white sweater with bright red capri pants. He brought a change of clothes in his backpack?
Once he saw me, we were guided toward our table. He helped me into my chair, which I thought was a nice gesture. He clearly had good manners. It made me wonder why he needed a blind date, if that was the case. Other than his imposing height, of course. Our host told us the specials of the day and let us know our server will be with us shortly.
After he sat down, the conversation was stilted and we weren't sure if we should start with the cliched questions. I didn't want to look arrogant and take over the pace, so I picked up my menu, scanning it for anything conversation-worthy. It was probably a bad idea to go to a seafood restaurant when I was allergic to shellfish, but Rose swore we would like each other and she was the one paying for this meal from a gift card she got for Christmas. Such a resourceful friend.
I found very little that appealed to me, since I had no idea what half of the menu items were. Pasta was a good, safe bet.
Our server came over, smiling a little too widely with a long, lingering look on my date. "Hello. I'm Pat. Were you informed of our specials?" He/she purred to him. I wanted to see how he handled this, since I was sitting right there and watched his every detail.
He pulled on the collar of his sweater, seemingly interested in the temperature of the room and not the needy server that I was sure to pummel if our order wasn't taken soon.
Seeing my date was uncomfortable and his prolonged silence irritated me, I cleared my throat a little too loudly, catching other, unwarranted eyes. "Yes, we're aware of the specials. Could we get a couple waters? We need a few minutes." I glared, wondering if my date was going to be scared off from my offended response, and sat back, closing my eyes and feeling the chill of the chair against my back.
So far, this date was not worth the eyebrow waxing and tooth whitening I had prepared for.
After serving up my disgust at the androgynous server, I opened my eyes and glanced back at my date, afraid of his reaction. I was relieved of his response. He had mirth in his eyes and he began to chortle, followed by a full-on belly laugh. I couldn't help but join in, since this was so ridiculous so far.
After we had calmed down, much to the appreciation of our neighboring tables, we wiped our eyes, respectively, and I prayed my cheeks would stop hurting from the abundance of my laughter.
"So. I think that broke the ice, eh?" Was he a Canadian golfer or something?
"Yeah. Do you know what you want to eat?" I was hoping that either the service was off-putting or he was pleasantly allergic to shellfish could dictate the rest of our experience here. I wanted to leave, but figured it would be pretty stupid to do so, since our date was just starting.
No such luck. "Yeah! I love the crab legs here. I come here with my family all the time." I must've looked green, as he added, "I mean, my siblings and I. I'm not married. Divorced, actually."
Why was he divorced? Was it the height? This was intriguing information, but I didn't want to overstep. He seemed fairly normal, bar the golfer pants and abnormal height difference between us. I mean, I was only 5'2″.
"Um. Yeah. This is a great restaurant." I was an incredibly bad liar and beginning our date with one, since his face was disbelieving of my response, was such a bad idea. I wanted to slap my hand against my forehead.
His eyes narrowed, probably because I was acting weird. Luckily, or unluckily, our server came back. However, he/she was professional and acted as stiff as my father's ironed shirts.
Yes, pasta was a great idea. What I hadn't read further on the menu was that it came with hidden shrimp. After I took a big bite, my tongue swelled immediately, causing a severe lack of communication. I couldn't believe my stupidity.
He will never want to see me again.
I pointed to my mouth, after not responding to some question he asked about my line of work. His eyes scrunched together, not immediately putting the pieces of understanding together. Was this so hard? I was going to die and needed medical attention.
Finally, he got it. Perhaps his brain was slow due to his height or something.
We stood up as my phone rang. My eyes teared up, ruining my careful application of mascara that I typically never wear. It said long lasting on the package but the marketing staff are clearly better liars than myself, since they appealed me to purchase their ineffective product.
He guided me out of the restaurant, slapping some money on the table in a hurry, without counting it. Was that a good sign? Was he that prepared with the check's balance or was he too loose with his money? I didn't have time to think about that, since his hand on my lower back lessened my critical thinking skills. It was so nice.
He guided me into his car, hopefully intending to drive me to the hospital. Quickly, he got into his seat and started the engine by pushing a button. Where were the keys?
As he peeled out of the parking lot, my phone rang and answering this was a bad idea. However, my friend would be worried if I didn't answer. I gave him my phone, against my better judgment, and he took it, opening the archaic flip phone and putting it on speaker.
"Hey babe! I know you're on your date and I hope he's not a dud. Hubby told me he's kind of stiff but I figured our guys could overcome it! Anyways, it's 9;30 and I need your help. Find some way to ditch him because I think the private poker game I entered tonight is not so legal and I think I heard some sirens. I'll hide in the kitchen cabinets while they take these guys, who I think might be mafia, away. Jeez! How do I get into these damn situations?" She said this all in one breath and I was horrified that he found out about my choice in friendship like this.
As I glanced at him, out of the corner of my eye because I didn't dare want to see the disgust, I glared at the phone. My tongue was swelling even more and I prayed he would stay with me and not just drop me off at the emergency room entrance like I was preparing my mind for.
"Yes, this is Mr. Stiff. Your friend is unable to talk because she is apparently allergic to shrimp and I'm driving her to the hospital. Stay in the kitchen cabinet and, once she's feeling better, she can pick you up from your…situation."
I wanted the ground to open up and swallow me whole. Yes, I would never see this tall beast of a man never, ever again.