The Wonderous Dating Game

by J. M. Mason

  Working in a sedentary job didn’t help with my weight loss program. I’m not one to be wanting to work out at a gym. All that body odor makes me gag audibly.

  Shaking my head to clear the fog, continuing to take an honest assessment of my chances on the planned date, knowing I might be fooling myself into thinking things will work out, hoping things will be enjoyable for at least one of us.

  I have a beautiful head of curly, auburn hair that most of the time does its own thing, and tonight was one of the times it decided to go with a friendly hairdo for the evening. One side was standing on end and waving at the other side. There wasn’t enough hairspray in the world to make the clumps of hairs dancing around my head with static behave, threatening to pull the bunch out by the roots made it stand straight up in fear.

  It was no use. I gave up trying to style my hair in a sexy do, grabbing a stretchy hairband, pulling the mess up into a loose ponytail on top of my head, adding a hairpiece to assist in taming the messy ponytail, making me look professionally done. Sighing deeply at the results, I was happy the hairpiece did its job, making me as perfect as I was going to get.

  Smiling at the results and the irony of the hairdo, I went down memory lane thinking of my first date and giggling softly about having false boobs, so fake hair didn’t seem so overboard. What could go wrong?

  “I look good,” I complimented my image in the mirror.

  My hair looked like I had spent hours in a beauty shop getting the latest style. Who cares if I have beautiful hair from a hairpiece?

  The clock on the bedside table showed I would be late if I didn’t get a move on. I quickly slipped on a pair of killer four-inch heels. As my foot hit the floor, I had a flashback to my first date, and the problems my kitten heels gave me, killer heels could be the death of me.

  I quickly removed the shoes and changed them for a pair of wedges, knowing I wouldn’t get the heels of the wedge caught in cracks in the walkway or the floor of the restaurant. I hoped to have a safe and fun evening.

  As I walked by the mirror by the front door, I grabbed my keys, smiled as I saw that I was passible for a forty-something, a delightfully plump, divorced woman with fake hair. I moved to my car and drove myself to the Steak House with hope in my heart that I wasn’t late.

  Chapter Fourteen

  When I pulled into a parking place in front of the restaurant, I noticed that Jenny was standing on the sidewalk with two tall, well-built men, waiting for me to arrive. She hurried to meet me at my car with a smile from ear to ear and opened my door. I resisted the impulse to pull the door shut and lock myself in so she couldn’t pull me out of the safety I felt inside my vehicle where I could sit alone and not be forced to answer silly questions.

  “Am I late?” I asked.

  “No, I just wanted to make sure you were good,” Jenny said, shrewdly assessing my expression. “Are you good with this?”

  “I’m nervous, but I’m as good as I can be for now. Let’s get this over with. I’m starved.”

  “By the way, your hair is beautiful and very becoming to you,” Jenny said.

  “Thank you, the hair’s fake, the boobs are mine. Let’s go before I change my mind.”

  Foreboding filled me with anxiety. It didn’t help that Jenny giggled at my comment about my hair and boobs.

  I visualized myself pulled toward the men with my feet dragging behind me as Jenny tugged with all her strength. Her eyes widened with surprise as I glared at her. She didn’t know about my image of her forcing me to go where I feared to go. My respirations increased, and my heart was beating wildly behind my ribs.

  Telling Jenny, I was okay, showed I was willing to be a pawn in her scheme to find me the one and only for me. The urge to flee increased the closer we came to the men who watched us stroll toward them.

  Despite the thoughts of fleeing, I couldn’t think of a legitimate excuse to run away to my car and drive as fast as I could to anywhere but here. I had no choice but to gulp air to calm myself, which caused me to choke. There must’ve been lumps in the air from the pollution.

  I wonder if this is how a prisoner, walking to the gas chamber, feels? I thought.

  Oddly, I equated this meeting to a person walking the last mile to their death. I might need some serious therapy before this night is over.

  “Stella, I’d like to introduce you to the men.”

  I was glad she didn’t call me Stel. She turned to the man on her left, who was a hunk. He had broad shoulders and was over six feet tall, and his blue eyes were like looking into the depths of the ocean or the Morning Glory Pool in Yellowstone Park. I was mesmerized by my date.

  My bubble suddenly burst when I heard Jenny say, “This is my boyfriend, John. I’ll let him introduce his friend to you.”

  Of course, I couldn’t be so lucky to have the hunkiest hunk. I got to settle for the nice man with black-rimmed glasses and unruly hair. He looked nice enough, but I think I’m shallow. I’ll discuss this issue about my being shallow with Jenny later.

  “It’s nice to meet you. Jenny has told me a lot about you,” John said.

  His voice was a rich baritone that made my heart feel like it was sinking into my belly. It was titillating for me, and it felt so good. I could’ve listened to him speak all day and all night long for the rest of my life as I gaze deeply in the depth of his blue eyes.

  I moved forward, turned my back on Jenny and John’s friend, and extended my hand toward John, knowing the warmth I was feeling on my cheeks, meant I was blushing. “It’s my pleasure to meet you, John. Jenny hasn’t told me anything about you.”

  Jenny choked, John’s friend chuckled behind me, and John coughed at my comment. I turned and faced the man that was evidently my date. He was as tall as John, not as well built, with thinning, unruly brown hair. His nose was long and came to a sharp point. My mind immediately visualized a bird sitting at the end of his nose. I choked down a chuckle and continued to memorize his features.

  My eyes locked on his. I noticed the lenses of his glasses made his eyes bulge out, giving the impression they would pop out of his head. They were large orbs of brown with flecks of gold embedded in the vibrant chocolate color. Despite the first look that made me wonder if he could see me more clearly than a normal man, his eyes had a warmth to them. I felt a sudden cozy feeling of contentment, a feeling I’d never experienced before.

  John cleared his throat as he introduced me to his friend. “This is Zac. Like I told Jenny, we’ve been friends since we were little kids. He’s a computer programmer; he’s very good at his job.”

  “I know how to turn on the computer,” I said, feeling my face heat up, knowing it was turning a lovely shade of pink.

  Why did I say that? What’s the matter with me? I’m not only shallow. I’m a ditz.

  “I’m happy to meet you. I know more than just how to turn on the computer, I didn’t m….”

  Jenny coughed softly into her hand. I knew she was trying not to laugh and shut me up at the same time.

  “Let’s go in and be seated,” Jenny said as she made her way toward the entrance. “We can discuss knowledge about a computer over a glass of wine while we wait to eat. I don’t know about anyone else, but I’m famished.”

  So much for a good impression. I could only hope things would improve as the night went on. I looked at Jenny and mouthed, “Thank you.” She smiled and draped her arm over my shoulder as we walked into the Steak House together ahead of the men.

  Chapter Fifteen

  A lady dressed in a black tuxedo greeted us. She looked down her nose as if she was seeing nasty bugs crawling around her feet, and her mouth was pinched together like she smelled something that sickened her.

  “Do we have a reservation?” she asked.

  It was all I could do to keep from asking if she was going to join us for dinner. Why do people say we instead of you? She must’ve read about the Queen’s English and forgot we live in America, not England.

  “Yes, it should be listed under
John McDaniels.”

  She made a mark on the paper she was looking at, as she said, “Oh, yes, here we are, a table for four. Follow me, please.”

  Good, she won’t be joining us. Otherwise, we would need a table of five. My snarky mind worked overtime at times. I like my mind. It makes me happy.

  We followed the hostess to a table toward the back of the main dining room near the fireplace. There wasn’t a fire set, related to the fact it was ninety degrees outside. Just sitting there would make it seem hotter than it was in the room.

  The golden light emitting from the chandelier made the ambiance warm and comfortable, inspiring a false sense of relaxation. Yet, when I looked at the chairs, I detected a mixed statement. The chairs conflicted with the warm fuzzy feeling of the flickering golden glow from the chandelier.

  The chairs weren’t conducive to a relaxing moment, no matter how you positioned yourself. They were made in a round form, like the designer created a chair out of a ball, hollowed it out, cut off one end to allow a person to perch on the edge of the cushion, and then whacked off the top to mimic the look of a chair. The arms were even with the back, making leaning back in it impossible, especially for me, who is short on one end, the end that needs to reach is always the shortest.

  Everything was in various shades of burgundy and mauve from the faux window coverings to the wall to wall carpeting, making the room look like it was dark and had to rely on the golden lights of the chandeliers that hung above our head to make it appear romantic.

  Each table scattered haphazardly around the large room was set with four place settings and covered with a white cotton tablecloth that spilled over the edge, cascading toward the floor, abruptly stopping just before it touched the burgundy carpet. The chairs were tucked neatly under the round table, making a dent in the covering.

  Looking around the room as I stood behind the only chair that faced the center of the dining room, I noticed western and landscape works of art adorning the walls. My eyes widened in recognition of one of the artists, noting he was a local. I smiled and relaxed. It was like being home.

  I was relieved the chair I chose would make it easier if I needed to escape. I knew it was unreasonable the way my thoughts were going. So far, there wasn’t any reason for my paranoia or to have a reason to leave in a hurry.

  There wasn’t a single Ninja fighter lurking in the dark corners of the darkened dining room, nor did I notice any zombies with eyes falling against their cheeks, bobbing up and down as they ambled across the floor, looking around as they walked with a halting gait, dragging one leg behind them.

  Those who lost a limb, I expect they would carry it around with them as they went on the search for food, clutching it against their chest as if it were a loved Teddy Bear. For the life of me, I can’t figure out why a person who is dead, needs food, what do they eat, would I have to fight them off to eat my dinner?

  Pulling my mind back to the reality of the dining room, helped me relax as Zac moved behind me, pulled out the chair for me, and held it to allow me to sit down with dignity. So far, so good, maybe he didn’t think I was an idiot after all. I liked that he was a gentleman and not one of the zombies I had visualized walking around the room.

  Continuing to look around the room, I made note of other escape paths in case things became intolerable for me, being thankful the signs had large, red, lighted lettering indicating the way out. I began to relax, knowing there were many avenues of escape to choose from.

  I was so enthralled in my appraisal of the room, the waiter startled me, causing me to nearly hit him in his abdomen, as I flung my arms out to protect myself from an attack from the zombies that lingered in my mind. He put the menu down on the corner of the table near my left elbow.

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,” the waiter said, smiling at me.

  He was a hunk, much too young for me. Mama said it didn’t hurt to look and drool. But I must never touch without permission. Yes, I was tempted to ask if I could squeeze his biceps, but I refrained from pretending to be a lady to impress the man.

  Taking a second look at his face, the feeling I knew him from somewhere tickled my memory bank, yet I couldn’t place him. Oh, well, no one needs to know the name of a person who didn’t know me, proving me wrong before the night ended.

  “That’s OK. I seem to be tightly wound tonight. A glass of wine should help me unwind a bit.”

  I gave him my best smile and winked at him. He returned the smile and leaned near me with a small folded card held out close to me, so I didn’t have to reach far to get the needed relaxing elixir menu.

  “Here is the Wine List for you to peruse. We have cocktails, wine by the glass or bottle, a variety of local microbrews, and domestic as well as imported beers.

  “My name is Michael, and I’ll be here to serve you tonight. I’ll get the water for you and return for your drink order in a few moments.”

  We discussed the different choices of wines and liquors and decided to order a bottle of Merlot for the table. We all liked the tart, rich flavor of the red wine. Tonight, was Prime Rib night, yet I would have a Ribeye steak, so Merlot was the best wine, according to my friends who’d read about it.

  “Zac,” John said. “It’s so good to see you. It’s been such a long time since we’ve been able to get together. I was pleasantly surprised when you called. I’m sorry I didn’t have time to visit with you until now. What brings you back to Junction City?”

  “I took a job with the Taggert Company as their IT man,” Zac answered. “I had my interview today, and they chose me for the position. More pay, much better hours, and best of all, I get to come back to the mountains where I have longed to be since I left to take a job in California after college, talking and texting friends just isn’t the same thing.”

  “Great,” John said with a grin. “It sounds like you landed a great job. I’m happy you are moving home. Maybe, we can go fishing and hunting when you get settled in.”

  “Hey, guys, can we discuss this later?” Jenny asked. “I’m sure Stella isn’t interested in fishing or hunting.”

  “Oh, I love to fish,” I interjected. “I haven’t been for many years.”

  Jenny’s eyes widened. Even though we’ve worked together for about ten years, it didn’t mean we knew everything about each other. I smiled at her and nodded.

  I was happy to find something in common with my date. I turned toward Zac, who was sitting on my right, smiling. I let him know I was in the market for a trip to the mountain with him if he would have me.

  Zac tilted his head toward me, a smile breaking out across his face. Funny, his features seemed to soften. His smile caused his eyes to twinkle, and the skin crinkled at the corners, awakening a feeling I thought was dead flutter in my belly.

  “Would you like to go fishing with me sometime?”

  I felt my cheeks warming, knowing I was blushing, hanging my head to cover my discomfort, my mind scrambled for an answer. Blushing was something that made me uncomfortable, causing me to be tongue-tied.

  “I…I don’t have my equipment any more. I got rid of it during the move after my divorce. I didn’t think I’d ever use it again.”

  The waiter returned to the table with our bottle of Merlot, saving me more embarrassment for stumbling over an answer to Zac. He hadn’t asked for an explanation of why I didn’t have the equipment. All he wanted to know was if I would or wouldn’t like to go fishing with him sometime.

  Shut up, Stella. Just answer his questions. I mentally chastised myself.

  Pouring a small amount of wine into John’s glass, the waiter stood holding the bottle, awaiting his opinion about the brand of Merlot.

  John tasted it, held it in his mouth, swished and then swallowed; he announced, “Good.”

  After the waiter filled all the glasses with the Merlot, Michael picked up the menus from the corner of the table. He handed each of us one as he opened them to make it easier for us. Before leaving us alone to make our decisions for
our meals, he promised to return to the table to take our orders.

  We placed our orders after Michael put a breadboard with a knife on the table between Zac and me. Most of the conversation on hunting and fishing was between John and Zac which left Jenny and I to our own devices. I began to obsess about my hunger pangs.

  My mind wandered to the loaves of fresh-baked bread on a breadboard, sitting to my right in front of Zac. I lost track of the discussion as my mouth drooled for a taste of the rye bread with honey butter. The aroma was wafting to my nose, teasing my senses.

  I hesitated interrupting Zac to ask him to pass me the bread while he was talking. It was twelve hours since I’d eaten. I was hungry and needed something to put into my stomach before I drank the Merlot to keep it from going to my head. My mouth was full of moisture that threatened to spill out and dribble down my chin as I continued to reach for the bread.

  Plotting a way to get the bread, while listening to the conversation at the same time, I reached my hand toward the food around my glass of wine, being careful not to disturb the others. As I inched my hand ever closer to the life-saving sustenance, I concentrated only on the objective, ignoring the means of my efforts that turned into an enormous mistake.

  As my hand latched onto the handle of the breadboard, I breathed a sigh of relief. I should’ve paid closer attention to what obstacles laid near my hand and elbow. Because I didn’t look, nor did I notice that my hand was nearer Zac’s glass of wine, which was in a direct line with my elbow and my glass than I thought. If I hadn’t been so intent on consuming a piece of fresh-baked rye bread with honey butter, I would’ve seen the disaster about to change the tone of the entire evening caused by my elbow.

  I planned to lift the board up and over Zac’s glass. All was going well as I lifted slowly and inched the panel toward my plate just inches off the table.