She was head to toe gorgeous. Her skin golden and her teeth glowing. How the hell am I on a date with someone like this?
“So what will you be ordering?” the waiter says as he looks to my date. “I’ll have the tortellini.” she says at the dimly lit Italian restaurant. We’re separated by a circular table with a white cloth, but somehow I just feel so close. I scamper to look at the menu. Spaghetti? No, I don’t want to get too messy. A flatbread? That’s basically pizza. I don’t want to look childish. Risotto? Perfect. It’s not going to make me look weird, and it’s tasty.
“I’ll take the risotto.”
The waiter takes our menus and walks off. The girl and I have some light small talk. Where did you grow up? What do you do for work? All that kind of stuff. Not surprisingly she’s a model at a local agency. Meanwhile, I work a finance job and sit behind a desk everyday.
“So you’re pretty smart then?” she says.
“Here’s your tortellini, ma’am,” the waiter says as he hands her a plate of delicious looking noodles mixed with meat and spinach.
“And for you, sir.” He hands me a plate of creamed rice with cheese. That can’t be what I ordered! I thought I ordered a noodle dish.
“Excuse me, sir?” I say to the waiter as he just began to leave. “I think I received the wrong meal. I thought risotto was a noodle dish.”
My date and the waiter look at me strange. My heart starts pounding in my chest, worried what I said was stupid.
“You must be thinking of rigatoni,” said the waiter. My whole body stopped in one place realizing I made a huge mistake in front of the girl of my dreams.
“You said I was smart?” I say to the girl.
“Well, you’re the smartest kind of stupid,” she responds. Once the waiter leaves she starts giggling to herself while my face becomes the palest it’s ever been. I think about what she said. Smartest kind of stupid. That has a good ring to it.
“I’ll have to use that line if I ever run for President. It could be my slogan,” I say as I start digging into my meal.
“You have my vote!” She replies.
I hid myself for a long time. I was watching a woman I care about fall in love with someone she didn’t even know. It was time to tell her. After saving her from someone trying to steal her purse, she looked at me and said “I don’t know what I’d do without you Spider-Man.” It was dark, but a streetlight illuminated her beauty. Her long blonde hair and her shiny purple dress, when I gave back her purse I saw a ring on her finger. Could it be? Was she engaged to Harry? I took her hand and and pointed to the diamond studded ring on her left hand. “Oh,” she said, “I just got engaged to this boy, Harry. I was just coming home to tell my parents!” It was true. My heart fell to my stomach. I was happy for Harry and MJ but envy just took over me. “He’s great. He takes care of me, keeps me safe, but not as much as you.” I heart stopped. She was talking about me! Little does she know I’m just a faux photographer who watches her from a distance, envious of my best friend being with my dream girl. “If only I could see who’s under that mask.” Before she was able to lift up my mask, without thinking I frantically remove it myself. “Hi MJ,” I say awkwardly. Mary Jane’s smile turned into shock. Her fiancée’s doofus friend was behind all this? “Peter,” she says quietly. She puts her hand down, and walks away from me, sitting down on the edge of the dirty New York City sidewalk. I put my mask back on, afraid of paparazzi potentially seeing my face. I sat down next to her, not saying a word. “Harry’s going to freak out when he learns you’re Spider-Man.” When? I thought. Is Mary Jane going to tell Harry I’m Spider-Man? I shouldn’t have done anything. While Harry and I are friends, Spider-Man and Harry don’t see eye-to-eye. Maybe it’s because I’m always saving Mary Jane, maybe it’s because I’m always in the news. Harry just sees me as his best friend, and I want it to stay that way. “You’re not going to tell Harry, are you?” I ask. “I…I don’t know.” Mary Jane buried her face in her hands.
