Disasters in Dating

by Danielle Allen

  “Desiree?”

  My head snapped up as I was yanked from my thoughts of fleeing the scene. My eyes landed on the attractive man standing on the other side of the table. Long, reddish-brown dreads brushed the shoulders of the clean-cut man with the caramel complexion and dark brown eyes. He looked exactly like his pictures online—maybe even better somehow.

  “Hi, yes. I’m Desiree,” I greeted him nervously. “Eric?”

  He extended his hand, and his smile widened to match. “It’s very nice to meet you. You look great.”

  “Thank you.” I smiled before sipping my latte.

  “Can I get you anything? I’m going to get me a coffee—and a bunch of napkins. I’ve been clumsy today, and I don’t want to get anything on this three-thousand-dollar suit.”

  “No, I’m okay. But thank you.”

  My eyes followed him as he walked to the counter.

  Very, very nice. Even though I didn’t need to know how much that suit cost, this might not be so bad after all.

  Eric was attractive and had a great smile. He was well dressed in his grey three-piece suit with purple dress shirt. He was nice and polite. His handshake was firm and his hands were sexy. And his confidence was evident as I noticed the swagger in his walk as he made his way back to our table.

  “So, Desiree…” Eric sat in the chair across from me and licked his lips. “Tell me a little more about what you do as a life coach. You look so good. I didn’t know that was a real thing, but you are clearly doing something right.” He leaned over to check out my shoes. “And those red bottoms let me know that you’re doing well for yourself.”

  The corners of my lips turned upward. “I do pretty well for myself. The work I do is me offering my advice in regards to a situation. But the real work is being able to help someone help themselves. I’m always hoping to help not just the individual who came to me with a problem, but also other people with similar issues see a new perspective. I’ve been doing it for a long time, and I love it. What about you? I know you’re in management.”

  He squared his shoulders and sat up a little straighter. “Yeah, I’m management for a little company. It’s pretty boring, but it’s good money, so I make do.”

  “Are you happy doing what you do? Boring doesn’t make it seem like you’re loving what you do. If you love—”

  “I work at Bell Credit Services,” he interjected, cutting me off in mid-sentence.

  Did he really just interrupt me?

  “If you have a Bell Credit Card and you called for any reason outside of fraud, you’d get my staff. I’m the Vice President of Customer Relations,” Eric continued.

  “And what do you do as Vice President of Customer Relations?”

  “Not a whole lot,” he chuckled.

  His laugh sounded like a squeaky door hinge.

  I froze. What the hell was that?

  Trying to maintain a straight face, I took another sip of my coffee and listened to him explain his job. But the sound of his laughter haunted me.

  Maybe the coffee went down the wrong way and it threw off his laughter, or maybe I’m being too critical.

  “—for the last twenty years,” he concluded.

  “Did you work there straight out of high school?” I wondered, doing the math in my head.

  He was thirty-five, but had been working in management for Bell Credit Services for twenty years? That didn’t add up.

  “Actually, my name is Eric Bell III. My grandfather launched Bell Credit Services. So, I was given a management position when I turned sixteen. I was just managing the youth volunteers, my peers, but it was still considered management.”

  “Oh wow. That’s pretty cool.”

  I was surprised because Bell Credit Services was a big deal in Richland, Maryland. Most people’s first credit card was a Bell. The high interest rates and flexible qualifications made young people and people with bad credit an easy target.

  “Yeah, it is. I try not to tell people at first because they seem more interested in my net worth than with me. I’m sure you could guess from my profile that I make a decent amount of money, but I don’t like to drop the Bell bombshell too early.” His lip quirked up. “But enough about me, tell me about you.”

  You didn’t seem too hesitant to disclose that information, but okay…

  Ignoring the blatant attempt to highlight his alleged wealth, I answered, “Well, I grew up in Maryland. I moved to Richland when I was seven. I’ve lived here—”

  “I grew up in a really rich part of Maryland. I did the prep school thing and then the Ivy Leagues, so Richland was a nice change of pace. It’s more real, gritty.”

  Oooookay…

  Even if he hadn’t interrupted me, his response rubbed me the wrong way. Clearing my throat lightly, I replied, “I’m not sure what you mean by that. But Richland has a lot of art and culture, and what I think is so unique about it is that it has a vibe unlike a lot of other places. It—”

  “Have you traveled a lot?” he interrupted, reclining back in his chair. He took a sip of his coffee. “I know you could tell from my pictures that I’m well-traveled. So, I’ve been a few places, and there are certainly places that have more art and culture than Richland. Richland is fine. Richland isn’t the worse place in the world. But there’s only one art museum that doesn’t get the best pieces in the world. There’s only so much this little city has to offer. If you want to see a play, you have to take the train to New York, unless a show is going to do a preview in D.C. If you want to see a great concert, you’ll have to head to a bigger city. I will admit that the shopping here is pretty decent, but this isn’t New York, Paris, or Milan. It’s not a bad place at all, but it is low on the totem pole of art and culture.” He smirked. “Now that you know that I travel. What about you? Do you travel?”

  I did my best not to roll my eyes. “Yes, I travel. And I’m not saying there aren’t other places that have art and culture. I’m just saying that you speak of Richland as if it’s the slums.”

  That noise masking as his laugh mocked me from across the table. “I hate to laugh, but you have so much feistiness. I didn’t mean to offend you. You obviously love your hometown—born and raised, huh?”

  He laughed again, but I barely cracked a smile.

  He apparently didn’t hear the part where I said I moved to Richland when I was seven.

  I cleared my throat and looked just over his head at the coffee bean decorated clock. “Actually, no. I wasn’t born here, but I am a proud resident. And to your point earlier, yes, I have seen your pictures. But that doesn’t necessarily mean you’re rich. My friends and I aren’t rich, and we’ve been to Paris, London, Bali, Rome, Lake Como, Punta Cana, Montego Bay, etc. etc. Traveling doesn’t mean you’re rich. Traveling could just mean you save and value new experiences.”

  Eric seemed put off by my response. “But have you been to Tokyo?”

  Is it rude to just leave right now? That would be rude, right?

  Taking a swig of my latte, I shook my head. “No, I haven’t.”

  His eyes lit up. “Well, talk to me once you’ve been to Tokyo. It’s something to see.” He paused to take a sip of his coffee. “I’m glad you have stamps in your passport. Can’t date someone who isn’t cultured.”

  I nodded slowly. “So, what do you do for fun?”

  “I usually take my Ferrari out for a drive to the harbor.”

  He’s not serious.

  I wasn’t going to feed into his braggadocios bullshit. I was determined to not give him the satisfaction.

  “Oh, you like the harbor?” I asked innocently.

  He looked a little confused. “I do,” he stated slowly. “Do you?”

  I took another sip of my latte and just stared at him. “Yes. I do.”

  “Do you like the club scene?”

  “Not really. I’m more into lounges than clubs. Clubs just don’t—”

  “You’re not going to the right places. If you go to the right clubs, you’ll get the club exp
erience. I’m friends with some of the owners of the biggest night clubs in the area. But again, that’s only when I don’t go to D.C. or New York for a night on the town.”

  Yeah, I’m done.

  I finished the last swallow of my latte. “Oh, okay.”

  “Do you live on this side of town?”

  I wasn’t going to tell him where I lived.

  “I’m not far away,” I answered.

  “Really?” His eyebrows shot up. “I didn’t realize life coaches did so well. Good for you. I live on this side of town. But I’m sure you probably guessed.”

  I shook my head. “No, I actually didn’t guess. I didn’t think twice about it. I just figured you liked this coffee shop.” I took a breath. “Oh! Look at the time. I have that other engagement I told you about.”

  Looking at his expensive watch, he stood. “You’re right. Time just flew by!” He flashed me a smile that wasn’t as charming as it was when I first met him. “Let me walk you to your car.”

  We walked out of the coffee shop in silence. Once on the sidewalk, Eric began telling me about the best coffee he’d ever had was on a trip to Tanzania. He’d finished his story comparing the coffee in Tanzania to the coffee in Nicaragua.

  “Okay, well it was nice to meet you.” I extended my hand to shake his. “Have a good rest of your Friday.”

  He shook my hand. “I thought today went well. I’d love to see you again and take you on a real date.”

  I opened my car door. “I appreciate it. But I don’t think we’re compatible.”

  “What do you mean?” He looked genuinely surprised.

  “You were more interested in talking about yourself and your money than you were in getting to know me.” I slid into my car. “You’re a really attractive man, and it seems as though you’ve lived an interesting life thus far. But I’m not interested in your money. I couldn’t care less about how much your suit cost or how much you make. I wanted to know more about you, and you wanted to tell me about your stuff and who you know and what you make and…” I looked up at him as he interrupted me.

  “I was telling you about me,” he argued before shrugging. “But it’s your loss, beautiful.” Backing away from the car, he gave me a forced smile and a wave. “Take care.”

  I waited until he was a good distance away before driving off and calling the best friend that picked him.

  “Hey!” Carmen answered on the first ring. “How was it?”

  “He’s extremely handsome, but he is preoccupied with money.”

  “I knew it! I knew he was a rich man.”

  My eyebrows furrowed as I navigated to the southside of the city. “What do you mean? Is that why you picked him?”

  “No, not entirely. He was one of your options and he’s hot. But there was something about him that screamed money. He looked like money.”

  “Grrr, Carmen! He spent the entire time talking about his money and who he knew and what he drove. He was obviously the kind of guy who’s used to getting women thanks to his money and his looks. He never cultivated a real personality.”

  “Most of the guys out here are going to be a waste of time. If you’re going to have your time wasted, might as well waste it with someone who can buy you nice things and take you nice places,” Carmen argued.

  I sighed. She wasn’t wrong, but I had more faith in the dating process than that.

  “Not every guy will be a waste of time,” I told her, my tone defeated.

  “But most of them will be. This isn’t going to be honorable guys looking to get to know you because they want to see if they can build a future. Stay alert, Desi. These dudes will lie, cheat, and steal their way into your pants and then go back home to their girlfriends and think nothing of it.”

  I considered what she’d said as I pulled up and parked at the second coffee house. “I’m alert. I’m always alert.”

  “I know you’re alert, but you’ve been out of the dating game for over a decade.”

  “But I remember what it was like to date… I think.” I shook my head as I tried to think back to the last guys I dated before Troy. “I remember the guy that I had Psych with had a girlfriend that he didn’t mention when he asked me out.”

  “Dating today is like that experience times ten. Technology just made it easier to be a hot mess. People can and will lie on four levels. They lie in their pictures. They lie on their profile. They lie in conversation. They lie in person. Before, people lied in person or over the phone. Now they are lying before you even match with them.”

  “Well damn, why even go on these other three dates? This sounds painful.” I tried to stare through the reflective glass of the coffee shop’s windows. “Dating now sounds like too much detective work.”

  “That’s exactly what you have to be. A fucking detective! Make sure everything lines up before you believe anything.” She laughed. “Well, you already do that.”

  I smiled. One of my degrees was in journalism, so I was skilled in dealing with facts only.

  “Yeah, but it’s sad to think about having to do that in dating.”

  “It’s sad, but most of the guys on TenderFish are going to be a waste of time. Which brings me to my point… If your time is going to be wasted, at least let it be worth it!”

  I laughed a little. “Yes, but he has to have a personality.”

  “In my defense, I saw the pretty package and the expensive watch and the language he used in his profile and thought, ‘He’s probably a fuckboy, but if he buys her nice jewelry and takes her on nice trips, we can split the difference.’”

  “Carmen!” I chastised through my giggles “What is wrong with you?”

  “Do you know how many frogs I had to kiss before I met a prince on TenderFish? And let’s be honest, Miguel was a little froggy when I met him… it was my kiss that turned him into a full-blown prince.”

  “I remember,” I sighed. “But Miguel was already ninety percent there. You just had to smooth out the edges. Eric was ninety percent pompous ass. There was nothing I could do about that.”

  “He probably had a small dick now that I think about it. If he was talking about his money the whole time, he was compensating for something. Either his lack of personality or his lack of inches,” Carmen pointed out comically.

  My head fell back against my headrest as I laughed. “And on that note, I have to go. I’m meeting Brendon now. Wish me luck.”

  “Whose pick is Brendon?”

  “Anika’s.”

  “Oh, okay. Well, he should be sweet then.”

  I sighed. “If nothing else.”

  We said our goodbyes, and then I headed into the coffee shop ten minutes early. I used the restroom, checked my outfit and hair, and ordered a latte before the time to meet Brendon. I took my latte and sat in the back corner. When the door’s bell jingled, I felt my nerves turn my stomach.

  Three men walked in. None of them looked like Brendon, so I went back to playing on my phone.

  Maybe he’s not coming. Maybe he decided he didn’t want to do this. Maybe he—

  “Desiree?”

  My eyes flew up and landed on one of the men who had entered moments before. Upon the second look, I could see he had the same hazel eyes and endearing smile. But as I extended my hand to meet his, I couldn’t help but wonder how he shrunk from six-feet to five-foot-eight-inches. I towered over him in my four inch heels.

  “Brendon?” I replied after the initial shock wore off.

  “The one and only.” He smiled, taking a seat and putting his cup to his lips. “It’s nice to meet you.”

  “It’s nice to meet you as well.”

  We proceeded to have a decent get-to-know-you conversation and he even made me laugh once or twice, but I couldn’t get over the obvious.

  “You’re a nice guy, Brendon, and you’re funny. Why does your profile say you’re six-feet tall?” I asked, honestly curious.

  Brendon’s chair scraped angrily across the tiled floor as he leapt to his feet. “How dare you
?!” His voice was elevated, and his face was beet red.

  My eyes were as wide as saucers as I moved my chair backward, unsure of what Brendon would do next.

  Without another word, he turned on his heel and stormed out of the coffee shop.

  “You have got to be kidding me?” I muttered under my breath.

  There were people looking over at me, but I didn’t feel much embarrassment. I felt more relief than anything, like a bullet had been dodged.

  Pulling out my phone, I called Anika.

  It went to voicemail.

  “Anika, it’s Desiree. I’m headed home from my date early. Call me and I’ll tell you the details, but just know that Brendon was a lot shorter than advertised.”

  Finishing my latte, I threw my cup away and then walked to my car.

  “Tomorrow has to be better,” I assured myself as I started my engine.

  Less than twenty-four hours later, I whispered the same thought to myself. “Today has to be better.”

  Wearing the same jeans as Friday night, but in a lighter shade of denim, and another cropped-top from Nichelle’s online boutique, I looked good and hoped that would translate into me feeling good. My makeup was light, and the humidity had made my big hair bigger. I didn’t bother to flatiron it because of the forecast for the rest of the day.

  I sent a photo of myself to my best friends in our group text message and awaited their thoughts before leaving for my Saturday afternoon coffee dates.

  Anika: You look so beautiful! Knock ‘em dead. Sorry again about Eric and Brendon. But now that you got those two out of the way, that means that today will be the keepers!

  Nichelle: Come to my place afterward so I can snap a picture of you in this. This is also going on my website! You look amazing!!

  Dyani: You look like you are ready to take this dating world by storm. Remember to be a man-eater. It’s a dog eat dog world.

  Carmen: Desiree, you look sexy without being too sexy. Remember everything I told you last night and also HAVE FUN! You are hot! Also… Nichelle, what material is this turning B-cups into D-cups?

  I laughed out loud and my nerves dissipated.