“Hey!” he says. “You made it.”
Uhyeah,I made it. We have a date!
Did he think I wasn’t going to show up?
“Yup, I made it.” There’s no seat next to him, so I continue to stand. He doesn’t ask if I’d like to sit but rather, chugs the last of his drink (a beer), sets the glass down, and pushes his stool back so he can stand.
“Want to grab a table outside?”
“Sure.”
My stomach was in knots before—nerves of excitement and uncertainty—but now it’s in knots for a different reason; disappointment.
I’m already disappointed, and we haven’t even sat down for drinks yet. Brian is already one ahead of me.
As he leads me to the back deck overlooking the lake, I take the time to look him over. Assess his appearance to determine whether or not he looks the same as he does in his dating profile.
He has a little less hair. He’s certainly taller than he was in high school, but still is thin—not that that is a big deal, but his profile picture makes him look like he’s in much better shape.
Fit.
Pale, as if he hasn’t been on the receiving end of the sun in years. I get that he works in an office and probably is indoors the majority of the time, but I love being in nature and the outdoors as much as I can, especially on the weekends. I wonder if he does too, or if he is solely an indoor creature.
Brian plops himself down at a table near the fire railing so we have a beautiful view of the harbor below and the boats parked on the public dock. The majority of their owners are probably inside enjoying a meal.
Broasted chicken…
He immediately flags down the server, arm in the air, finger tipping toward him to indicate that we would like to order something.
“I’m assuming you want something?”
“Yeah, I think I’ll get a cocktail.” I think I’m gonna need the alcohol to get through this date.
The good news is I know him from high school, and I can just reminisce about the good old days. I can keep it platonic and steer the conversation away from anything romantic.
“So how’s it going?” That’s the first thing he asks when the server walks away, leaving us to our own devices.
“It’s good.” I rack my brain for an actual topic.
“No, I meant—how’s the online dating shit going for you? Been on any other dates lately?”
I shake my head. “Honestly, not really. I actually just downloaded the app the night before you and I matched. I haven’t dated much—been focusing on my job and my friends.”
“You used to hang out with that Shannon Dearborn and Missy Schneider. Do you still see them?”
I shake my head again. “These days, I hang out with my college friends. I was living with my friend Molly, but she just moved in with her boyfriend. She’s downtown, actually.”
“Huh,” Brian muses. “I don’t see any guys from high school anymore. Most of them are dicks.” He laughs. “Losers. Still trying to relive the glory days, playing on bowling leagues and having kids.”
“Youhave kids,” I point out, irritated.
“Yeah.” He takes a drink. “But I only see mine every other weekend.”
That logic confuses me.
“Do you want more?” It’s a question I should have asked when we were making small talk in the app and not on the first date.
“No.” He laughs as if it was the most ridiculous question. “One ex-wife is enough for me. She drives me nuts. Constantly texting me for shit, school supplies, practice schedules, doctor bills—drives me fucking nuts.”