“Oh really, interesting,” I said, twisting my straw in the water.
Here’s some advice if you’re planning on dating someone more “professional,” or “accomplished.”
Don’t do it.
This was most plausibly the most boring guy in the world.
He spent his afternoons bird watching.
And before you say anything else like, “Oh my gosh that’s so cute, did you have a romantic picnic in the park?” No.
He just stared out his gray apartment window watching pigeons.
I had stopped listening to what he was saying moments ago, letting my mind wander.
This was my third failed date.
The first guy was too self-obsessed, the second guy… well, he lived with his parents as an example.
And now this guy, Gary.
I know, I know, you don’t have to tell me.
I should’ve seen this coming.
He was talking about economics and his boring business job, it was hard not to fall asleep.
He’d taken me to a classy restaurant where the steak tasted like sawdust.
Like they went to Texas Roadhouse, bought the tiniest steak possible, left it in the fridge for a few days, took it out, warmed it up in the microwave, overpriced it, and gave it to me.
“And then when I pulled the paper out of the drawer for the printer, it was bent! Kamryn?”
He cleared his throat, and I looked over at him.
“Oh, hahaha.”
He smiled at me.
This idiot didn’t get the hint.
I decided to mess with him.
“I’m gonna go to the, uh, ladies' room for a moment. Be back in a tish.”
Tish? Since when did I become an old British woman?
I stood up, my brown hair falling in curls around my shoulders.
I had been told multiple times I looked like I came straight out of the 20s.
It was probably because of how I did my hair.
I can’t describe it, but you know how 20s hair looked right?
I was wearing a sparkly red dress with a small slit.
“Excuse me, waiter? Yes, you, please tell that man over there he is boring and can’t take a hint.”
The guy nodded unsurely.
“Thank you.”
I excused myself through the restaurant covered in fairy lights.
I bumped into a man wearing an old-fashioned blue and black striped suit and a fedora hat.
“Excuse me,” I said, pushing past him.
He gently held my arm.
“It’s you.”
I gave him a puzzled look.
“I don't have time for questions now, follow me.”
Here's the thing.
I didn't have to go with him, he didn't make me, but I was curious.
He waited for me outside.
“Well?” I crossed my arms.
He held out his hand. “Follow me.”
I looked back at the glowing light of the restaurant.
What did I have to lose?
I took his outstretched hand, and he pulled me close, putting his arm around me.
Lifting a small, glowing, blue and purple orb to the sky, he twisted the top, and we were gone.
