It was a cold rainy Wednesday night. The moon was full and dark clouds dotted the starless sky. It was the kind of night where anything and everything could happen and on this particular night, it almost did. A heavy mist hung in the air as she walked towards the designated metro. The deserted streets, normally bustling with students and hipsters, echoed with an eerie silence. A shiver went down her spine as she approached the barren metro station. There he stood, in the shadow of a lone street lamp. He was shorter than she'd imagined, with a surprisingly receding hairline and scars from what she presumed were poorly popped pimples, the product of adolescent/adult acne.
"Hey there Meph!" His enthusiasm caught her off guard. "I'm so excited to finally meet you." His arms reached out in what she could only assume was meant to be an introductory embrace. The slight stench of body odor and axe mingled with the night air.
"Hi Mohn." she said, trying unsuccessfully to dodge his hug, instead ending up with a half hug of his malodorous shoulder. "I'm excited to meet you too, I guess." He laughed at her candor, mistaking it for sarcasm.
"I've really been looking forward to this date. You are the first person I've seen on match that I really click with."
"Really? Well I don't know if we click, we just met." Again, laughter.
They walked towards a restaurant Meph had meticulously researched and chosen earlier that day. Knowing that Mohn, her internet date, was coming in from the suburbs of DC and wanted to "make a night of it" she had been forced to agree to a dinner date, something she usually tried to avoid. While not dainty by any stretch of the imagination, Meph was a picky eater and her refusal to ingest nuts, peanut butter, olives, mushrooms and avocados sometimes made for awkward moments and stunted dinner table conversation. Restrictive eating habits aside, there were other issues to confront when meeting someone for an actual meal. How expensive was too expensive? How ethnic was too ethnic for food on a first meeting? Should they go somewhere that offered a kid's menu? After much debate and input from annoyed friends and family, Meph settled on a trendy Thai restaurant that had received good reviews but had a moderately priced menu.
The walk to the restaurant felt long, like a dream where no matter how fast or far you run, you never reach your destination. Mohn rambled. He was at graduate school in near by College Park, Md studying orchestral music. He was hoping to transfer to a better school to receive his PhD. He wanted to be a conductor! He went to Emory undergrad and recently had surgery on his smelly shoulder. Meph listened and nodded when appropriate, secretly judging him all the while. She could hear wolves howling in the distance.
The restaurant was staffed by small Asian women, all with a dead stare in their eye. Despite the heaters and the fact that it was July in DC, Meph could not shake the chill that had encumbered her. Mohn suggested an appetizer, saying he would pick because he was the man.
"You know what episode of The Office this reminds me of?" Mohn asked after the waitress took their order. Meph resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "The one were Kelly invites everyone to the Indian event..." His voice faded off as Meph began to die inside. A girl full of neurosis and a natural tendency towards anal retentiveness, there were many things about a great number of people that bothered her. On the top of this long and irrational list was referencing Office episodes excessively. Yes, the tv show starring Steve Carrell is great. It is funny and at times relevant, however bringing it up in conversation was probably funnier and fresher four years ago when it first came out, she reasoned.
The appetizer arrived just as Mohn finished making his outdated and longwinded Office comparison. It had peanuts on it.
"I won't eat those," Meph said, sticking the food with her fork.
"That's what she said." Mohn laughed. "Do you think we'll talk about anything serious all night or will it be a battle of the wits and all sarcasm?"
This baffled Meph, up until now she had been totally sincere. When she told him she didn't care about his musical career, when she said he was being dramatic about shoulder surgery, when she said his Match.com picture wasn't really that accurate and she was in fact disappointed by the reality of his face, when she asked him if he was really six feet tall, she did so in earnest.
"Ha," was all she could muster.
he rain came down steadily outside while the daters ate. Lightening crashed down on the streets outside as thunder, her constant companion clapped in approval. The conversation turned serious. Mohn was of the conservative sort, a supporter of John McCain and his sidekick Sarah Palin. He was brought up Roman Catholic and attended Church weekly. He believed that the Pope, the Earthly incarnation of God, should be worshipped and his decrees strictly adhered to. Choice, Mohn said, was not a woman's right. "I mean if you got pregnant Meph, we'd figure it out, but I wouldn't put abortion on the table" he concluded. Meph felt a pang of disapproval and the need to go third wave feminist on his ass, but refrained instead taking comfort in the knowledge that Mohn would not be getting her pregnant any time soon.
"So do you go to Church?" Mohn stuffed a bite of pork fried rice in his full mouth.
"No, I'm a big Jew. A big liberal Jew. I think Obama is a sexy black man. I hope we socialize health care. Class based society is dumb, I am a communist."
"Diversity is our strength." Mohn remained visibly unshaken
"What should we do after this?" Mohn said as the waitress placed the check on the table. "I'll pay for this, you get dessert. Lets do something romantic like ice cream or Starbucks." Meph held back the vomit that sprang up in her throat.
"What can I get that will be easiest to eat while I hold your hand?" Mohn pondered aloud as they stood in line at the ice cream parlor. This time her disgust and utter repulsion was in concealable. The chortle erupted before Meph even knew what was happening, spit and mocking laughter flew everywhere.
"You will NOT be holding my hand." Meph said, visibly shaken. "I'll have a small cone of chocolate," she then told the girl behind the counter. Mohn apparently unphased by Meph's behavior asked the girl for a large chocolate. As they approached the cash register Mohn pointed at Meph, "She'll be paying," he said smugly. She handed the cashier ten dollars knowing that no amount of money could salvage this date.
Mohn insisted they walk as they eat their creamed ice. Meph made sure to keep her hands close to her body and occupied at all times. Mohn laughed as Meph discussed the inherent unfairness of match, that all the girls were far better looking than the guys. This nuance seemed to be lost on Mohn.
"Isn't it great that we have the exact same sense of humor!" Mohn exclaimed.
"I'm not sure about that." Meph grabbed the ponytail of hair on her shoulder and began examining each individual piece for split ends..
They continued to stroll through the dark and deserted streets. Suddenly something appeared in the distance. At first Meph thought it was a mirage, a glimmer of hope flickering in front of her. It was brightly lit and the escalator was humming, it was the Metro! The end was in sight.
"Well you better hurry to make the last train!" Meph said, exhibiting more excitement in these nine words than she had all night. Mohn lingered, standing in Meph's personal space. He positioned his face directly in front of hers. He is NOT 6 feet, she thought.
"I had so much fun." She could feel his pork fried rice breath all over her face and neck.
"Yeah this was great." The sarcasm he had so yearned for earlier was finally starting to kick in!
"So I'm not sure if you're busy this weekend, but would you want to hang out on Sunday?" He was a close talker and she felt not only his hands on her waist, his spittle on her cheek, but a pressure in her heart. For so long she had yearned for a second date. Having been rejected by all those who were legitimately taller than her, she wondered, was this all that was left?
"I, I guess," she stammered, instantly knowing this was a mistake.
He wrapped her in joyous hug promising to text her.
"I hate texting." She said, tasting regret in her mouth.
Meph awoke on Thursday morning with a sense of hope and possibility. The sun was shining, the sky was blue, the birds were singing, the date was over. Sure Mohn might text her. She had said she would see him again, but a casual "I guess" was not a commitment. It was one date, they hadn't signed a marriage contract. Walking to work she felt confident that if and when he contacted her she was not obliged to respond.
It wasn't until after that morning's staff meeting that she saw it, "At national gallery, shall I tell you about the paintings so you can live vicariously through me?" Ignore.
An hour later Meph was juggling G-chat, the New York Times, celebrity gossip websites and expense reports when her phone vibrated again, "What you don't like art?" Ignore.
"Too busy to text?" This kid just doesn't get the hint, Meph thought when she saw his third text in as many hours. Ignore, Meph decided to put it out of her mind and focus on work. However by the time she got home from the gym and finished dinner that night, the situation had taken a turn for the worse.
"I know I'm annoying, but I would really like to see you again, please call me." Meph began to feel the strength to reject him drain out of her. The familiar feelings of guilt and the need for male attention welled up in her chest. Maybe I led him on, she thought. Maybe I shouldn't have laughed when he made that weird Michael Jackson joke. But he did make you pay for his overpriced large ice cream, she countered herself. Her resolve returned and she put her phone away and Mohn out of her mind.
Over the next few days Mohn continued to text, undeterred by Meph's lack of response. "Am I annoying you?", "It's so nice out today!", "Hang out Sunday?" littered Meph's inbox. After three days and 234 text Meph was fed up. This must stop, she thought. Being the bleeding heart pseudo communist that she was, Meph decided to let him down easy via his favorite form of communication, the text. After coming up with what she considered to be thoughtful but firm, she sent the text. "It looks like you are looking for something far more intense than I am, I am moving away. Good Luck!"
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