S-Project: Blind Date

This is my latest submission for the S-Project. I've managed to make myself sound really horrible and extra blah-like in this story, but in defense of myself, I was falling head over heels in love with another person at the time, and stupidly allowed myself to be bullied into keeping a blind date that had been set much earlier. Although I seriously doubt we would have hit it off even if I hadn't been all gooey over someone else, the guy was a decent guy who deserved a better date.

Blind Date

He considered himself handsome enough. He was tall, clean-shaven, except for a neatly trimmed mustache he’d grown his senior year of high school just to prove he could. He wasn’t some unemployed schmoe. He made a decent living working in construction, came from a friendly, if somewhat chaotic, family, and he was nice. Damn nice and encouraging, so what, he wondered, was her freaking problem? She was just sitting there, all distracted like maybe she had other places she’d rather be.

She was named Elizabeth, and she was the Assistant Manager in the little jewelry store his sister-in-law, Susie, managed. Susie was the one who suggested and then set-up the date. She’d sworn up and down that Elizabeth was smart, funny, engaging, and lots of fun. And hot too. Red-hot. As he expected, Susie had exaggerated, but even so, she was still pretty in a sort of garden variety way—long brown hair, big blue eyes, and when she bothered to, she had a nice smile with straight, even teeth.

He’d taken her to a Mexican restaurant before the movie, and they’d had a little stilted conversation, mostly initiated by him. They’d shared the basics—hometown, number of siblings, favorite food (she liked Mexican, so that was good), favorite color, etc., but the conversation had dwindled and he was relieved when the waiter dropped off the check.

He was glad they’d be finishing their date at the movie theatre. He’d purchased tickets earlier in the day for Silence of the Lambs. He’d heard it was really good, and besides, in his experience, women liked the scary movies because it gave them an excuse to move a little closer. Fat chance of that, he reflected, remembering the fleeting ill-concealed expression of distaste that crossed her face at the mention of the film.

“It got really great reviews,” he persisted.

“That’s what I heard,” she said, smiling lightly. But he could tell she was apprehensive.

“Don’t you like scary movies?” he asked, incredulously. Of course she likes scary movies. Everyone likes scary movies, he thought.

“I don’t dislike them,” she said. He could tell she hated them, but was trying to be nice. “Really,” she insisted. “I like suspense—I’m not much for gore, though. But I’m sure this will be great.”

“You’re gonna like it, I promise,” he said.

He searched for another topic and came up empty. He figured any conversation about politics would bore her. He knew enough to avoid religion, at least on the first date, and sports were out of the question. The only sport worth anything was basketball, and the season was already over. Besides he didn’t really figure her for being much of a sports nut. Popcorn, he thought, brightening. Maybe she wants popcorn.

“Hey, you want some popcorn?” he asked hopefully.

“Oh, thank you, but no. I’m still full from dinner.”

He didn’t see how that was possible as she hadn’t actually eaten much of anything at the restaurant. A couple of chips with salsa, half a chicken enchilada, two bites of rice, and no beans. He’d wound up finishing her meal as well as his own. He wasn’t really hungry, either, but he needed a way to blow some time before the movie started up.

“I think I’m going to need some popcorn,” he told her, grinning. “Movie gore always makes me hungry.” He knew it was kind of a stupid joke, but she laughed politely anyway.

She was certainly very polite.

He’d hoped for a long line and utter inefficiency at the concession stand, but for once, he was disappointed. He was back in only a few minutes with an extra large bag of popcorn and two sodas. “I got you diet coke. That’s what you drank at dinner, so I figured you liked it,” he finished lamely.

“I do like it, thank you,” she replied. And then she smiled at him. Damn, she had a nice smile. Maybe she was just shy, he thought. Or maybe she just thinks I’m an idiot. Oh, hell, who cares? I wish I hadn’t let Susie talk me into this.

At last, the theatre darkened and the blessed sound of Dolby erupted from the speakers.

Later, on the drive home, he asked her how she liked the film.

“It was good,’ she said. “Gory.”

“There’s that word again,” he said. “So you really didn’t like it, then? Be honest,” he implored. And to his surprise, she was.

“I didn’t. I think the film was well-made and the acting was terrific. I can recognize that, but it isn’t a genre of film I particularly care for.”

“So what do you like?” he persisted. “Dramas, romances, action?”

“I don’t really go for any genre unconditionally. I just like good movies, I guess.”

“But this was a good movie,” he said.

She flashed that smile again and he wondered once more if she was maybe just shy. “You have a really nice smile,” he told her as he pulled up to her apartment building.

She flushed, then thanked him. Abruptly, she said, “I’m sorry this wasn’t a very good date. It’s my fault.”

He began to deny that it was, but gave up in the middle of the attempt. “Wasn’t one of my better ones,” he agreed. “But why do you think it was your fault? I mean, I could have at least asked you which movie you wanted to see instead of assuming you’d like whatever I chose.”

“It is my fault,” she asserted. “It’s not you, okay? Susie meant well. It’s me.”

He nodded as she said good night and climbed out of the car. So no kiss, then? He’d always hated that whole it’s-not-you-it’s-me thing. What a cop-out. He shook his head and drove home.

He’d barely shut the door behind him, when his telephone rang. It was Susie, apologizing profusely. Clearly she’d already spoken with Elizabeth. “Listen,” she said, “it’s my fault. I should have canceled everything—see Elizabeth just reconnected with an old friend a couple of days ago. Some guy she used to be totally hung up on. I’m so sorry,” she finished.

“Susie,” he began.

“I know,” she said.

“Never, again” they said in unison.