Online dating was not something I thought I would ever do in my life. Why would I? Fairly good looks and intelligence was good enough to snag a good date if not a man. When Travis* (his name escapes me) engaged me online, I thought it was a good pass time. He showed no respect whatsoever for the queen’s language and clearly had not discovered the thesaurus. I let it slide because after all it was a pass time. A fortnight later he asked for me out an date. For me, a date is an affair. I expect to be picked up, having spent a reasonable amount of time at the salon (or spa) and my closet. The car door should be opened for me with a rose in hand, accompanied by a big smile revealing big sparkling white African teeth. We should have a blast and afterwards be dropped at my door and crown it with a kiss followed by an awkward moment as my date asks me for a second date. Many say that I have watched too many movies but you get what you ask for. I learned that the hard way.
Travis asked me to ‘hook up’ in town. I remember thinking that I am too old for this city. What does hook up mean anymore? Such a ‘date’ already tells you what kind of a person you are dealing with. May be he did not want to invest in a blind date lest I show up with team light skin face, coal fingers and a limp. Curiosity drove me to the date, plus I had no plans on that Friday. I got to the Casino/bar/restaurant. I am not quite sure which one it was but it had to be one of them. I got there on time but he was already there.
He was this sumptuous piece of beef looking at me in a way that made me believe that my lonely days were over. No more indoors Fridays nights. My Facebook page would be plastered with photos of him shirtless just to rub in into my ‘friends’ faces and show them that I too had a life. With those looks, two kids would be enough so that I have enough time to get my figure back lest people confuse me for his mother. Then this midget (metaphor) waved at me so I waved back while walking towards my beast. A lady in tall, red bottom heels joined my beast’s table and I made a very quick turn, at this point starting to look clueless.
‘Makena. Here. it’s me Travis’
It was the midget AGAIN what did he want from me? I barely missed bumping into table with two gentlemen enjoying their drink as I scattered for the door. There was no way that was him. He had said that he was a 5’6’. May be he meant centimeters and I missed it out of excitement. At this point the door felt like a planet away. He finally caught up with me and because my grandmother taught the art of decency, I stopped running and tried to save face.
‘There you are, I had not seen you. It’s so good to see you. How was your day?’
I said while bending my knees so that the difference in height would not be too obvious.
He walked back to the table and did not even bother to pull the chair for me. Short and rude. The princess in me cried out in agony as the grown up went comatose for the rest of the evening. He went on about how he had political ambitions to follow in his uncle’s footsteps. Picturing what seemed like a 5’2’ with a pot belly and an oversize suit was not something my twenty year old self dreamed of for a partner. He stood up and ushered me out and it hit me it was time to leave. I felt dizzy having guzzled too much wine but I kept steady because falling down was not an option.
He opted to take me to the bus stop but my eyes were wandering for a bar for something stronger. We bid our farewells, which is code for awkward. I was glad that I could finally straighten my legs. Love is a beautiful thing, finding it is a hard task and you just have to let it find you. Then I remembered that he had not asked for a second date. Good because it spared me having to (politely) decline. After having a good shower and nibbling on some left overs, I got lost in Stephen King’s Claire. The lead character was weird just like me.