Third Date

by Kylie Keene

  “Paige, what do you think?”

  “I don’t really know. I’ve been with Michael forever.” She sips her wine.

  “Yeah, but you have single girlfriends. What do they tell you?”

  She looks at Kayla, then back at me. “Well, you go out to dinner. See if you like each other. Maybe catch a movie. And go from there.”

  “By that, she means you decide if you want to have sex with him or stop seeing him.” Kayla puts her feet up on the coffee table.

  “You decide this after a few dates?”

  “Usually three or four, sometimes five,” Paige says.

  “But three is the standard,” Kayla says.

  “Three? Are you serious? It’s standard to have sex on the third date? That’s so soon! I thought that was just something people did in movies.”

  Kayla grabs a cracker from the tray. “Are you joking with us here or what? I feel like I’m having a conversation with a twelve-year-old.”

  I’m on my second glass of wine and I take a big gulp, then set the glass down on the table.

  “Okay, here’s the deal. I’m ready to date but I’m kind of lacking in experience.” I wait for their response but they say nothing, so I continue. “What I mean is that I haven’t done the things you’re claiming men expect on a date.”

  “Wait a minute.” Kayla sets her wine glass down. “Are you saying you’re a virgin?”

  “Yes.” I sit up straighter, the wine boosting my confidence. “I’m a 23-year-old virgin.”

  “Hold on.” Kayla puts her hand up like she’s stopping traffic. “How is that possible? I mean, I know you haven’t dated much but—”

  “Don’t listen to her,” Paige says. “I think it’s sweet. And romantic. You’re saving yourself for marriage. A lot of people do that. Good for you, Morgan.” She raises her glass as if we should toast to my virginity.

  I ignore her raised glass. “No, I’m not saving myself for anything. In fact, I really just want to get the whole sex thing over with, especially now that I know men are expecting it by the third date.”

  “That’s not true for all men,” Paige assures me.

  “It’s all men.” Kayla pours herself another glass of wine. “So how could this not happen in college?”

  “I don’t know. I didn’t go to many parties and I didn’t live in the dorms. I lived at home with my dad, so it just didn’t happen. Plus, I never made it past the first couple dates with a guy. I wasn’t interested enough in any of them to . . . you know.”

  “If you can’t even say the word, you’re not going to be able to do it.” Kayla jumps up and starts pacing the floor. “Okay, we can fix this. I can find you a guy who would be more than happy to take care of this for you.”

  “She’s not getting her car fixed here.” Paige shoots a dirty look at Kayla, then turns back to me. “You need to find someone who cares about you. Someone who will make this memorable for you.”

  “I don’t know if I want it to be memorable. I think I might just want to forget it after it happens and move on.”

  “Yes, that’s exactly what you should do,” Kayla says. “My first time was prom night junior year with this guy I was dating. I made it into this huge deal and then it was over in like a minute. And he dumped me the next week. So trust me, the first time sucks. You just want to get it over with.”

  “You should really think about this some more.” Paige uses her mom-tone, soft-spoken and concerned. “You’ve waited this long. What’s the rush?”

  “I’m not in a rush. And I’m not saying I need to race out and have sex. I just need to start dating. But if this third-date rule is a real thing, or even if it’s four or five dates, then I don’t know what to do. I’m completely inexperienced.”

  Kayla takes some cheese from the tray and plops down on the couch. “Just have sex and get it over with. I’ve already got someone in mind for you. I’ll see if he’s free Friday night.”

  “Friday night? As in this Friday night? That’s so soon. I don’t think I can do that.”

  Kayla gets up, grabbing her purse. “You can do it. I’ve gotta go.”

  “Morgan, don’t listen to her. You’re not going to have sex with a guy just to get it over with. And you’re not doing it with some random guy.”

  “Paige is right, Kayla. That’s just not me. I at least need to know the guy.”

  “That’s why you’ll go to dinner first.” Kayla’s at the door, but she turns back and says, “Show me your underwear drawer.”

  “What? Why?”

  She races to my bedroom. I run to catch up with her, Paige following behind.

  Kayla opens my top drawer and pulls out one of my bras. She holds it up. “What is this? Polyester? Beige? It doesn’t even have wires in the cups. No wonder you always look so saggy. Where do you even buy something like this?”

  “They come in a two-pack,” I mumble. “You can get them anywhere.”

  Paige stares at my beige bra, dangling in the air. “Um, maybe you could get one or two new ones. I could go shopping with you if you want.”

  I snatch my bra from Kayla. “But these are really comfortable. And I don’t need that much support. I’m not exactly large-chested.”

  Kayla takes it back and checks the size. “34C? That’s not small. You need new bras. Just throw this one out.” She tosses it on the floor and reaches in my drawer again. “Paige, look at this. It gets worse.” Kayla holds up a pair of my underwear. Pink cotton high-cut briefs.

  “What’s wrong with those?” I try to grab them but she holds them high in the air. “They’re cut high up on the hip. They’re sexy.”

  “You tell her,” Kayla says to Paige. “You’re better at saying things nicely.”

  Paige looks at the underwear, then back at me. “Well, I kind of wore ones like that back in middle school. Not that you can’t wear them. I mean, you could work out in them, I guess. But maybe it wouldn’t hurt if you got something a little more, um, appealing to the opposite sex. Maybe something that doesn’t come in a pack of six.”

  “What do you wear?” I ask her. “You’re married. You shouldn’t care what your underwear looks like.”

  “I’m married, but I still want to look sexy.” She unzips the side of her skirt to reveal her silky black bikinis. “These are my weekday ones. I have better ones for the weekend.”

  Kayla keeps snooping in my drawer. “That’s all you have in here? You don’t even have one decent pair of underwear. There isn’t even any variety. They’re all the same style.”

  “I stock up every year during the back-to-school sales.” My voice trails off as I realize how pathetic that sounds. I’ve been buying back-to-school underwear! The kind meant for tweens! The kind that’s sold in six packs! “All right. Maybe I could use some new ones.”

  Kayla tosses my underwear back in the drawer and closes it up. “I’ve gotta go. But we’ve got some work to do.”

  “I can take you shopping at lunch tomorrow,” Paige offers.

  “Fine,” I agree. “But I’m not spending more than thirty dollars on a bra.”

  Paige shakes her head. “You’ve gotta spend more than that for a decent bra.”

  “Think of it as an investment in your future,” Kayla says as she heads out the door.

  After they leave I start to get nervous. Maybe I’m rushing into this. I don’t feel ready. I can’t just have sex with some random guy. I’ll regret it. I know I will. But I can at least go on a date.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  4

  Friday arrives way too quickly and I regret my earlier suggestion to be set up. Kayla and Paige are now treating me like one of our projects in the lab, telling me what to wear and how to do my hair to create the outcome that will yield the best results. I’m not even sure what those results are. I know Kayla expects me to have sex tonight, but it’s not going to happen. As for Paige, I think she just wants me to learn how to date again. I am out of practice. I have a feeling this dinner tonight will be painfully awkward. I�
�ve never been good on first dates.

  Ever since I told Kayla and Paige my secret, they look at me differently. Like there’s something wrong me. I don’t understand why it’s such a big deal. So I’m a little behind in the relationship department. Since when is there a sex timeline that everyone has to follow? And why is sex just expected? It wasn’t that long ago that women were outcast from society for having sex outside of marriage. Now you’re a social outcast if you don’t.

  It’s now 6:30 and I need to finish getting ready. I pull my jeans over the ridiculously uncomfortable silk panties that Paige picked out, noticing how they ride up as soon as my jeans hit my butt. I dig my hand down my jeans and try to push the panties back into place. But as soon as I walk, they bunch up again. That’s just great. Now that’s all I’ll be able to think about during dinner.

  The lacy black push-up bra that matches the panties has been torturing me all day. Its “comfort” wires are anything but comfortable. I lift up the fabric-covered wires to see red marks on my skin. Why does looking sexy have to be so painful? I put on a snug-fitting, red v-neck sweater and check myself out in the mirror. My breasts stick straight out in front, a look I’m not used to. I feel like one of those girls from the fifties with their breasts aimed and ready to shoot bullets from their cardigan sweaters.

  It’s not like this guy is getting lucky tonight. I’m only wearing these new undergarments to get used to wearing them. To see if I can survive even a few hours in them.

  I decide to meet the guy at the restaurant where we’re having dinner. Even though Kayla knows him, I don’t feel safe letting him pick me up at my apartment. Plus, this way I can bail if the guy turns out to be a jerk.

  I get to the restaurant right on time. The guy is nowhere to be found. My cell phone rings and I answer it. It’s Kayla.

  “Morgan, Matt’s running late. He would’ve called you himself but you wouldn’t let me give him your number. But he’s really sorry. He’ll be there soon.”

  “Yeah, okay.”

  “Are you excited?”

  “Sure. I’ve never been to this restaurant,” I say, knowing full well that’s not what she’s referring to.

  “Not about the restaurant.”

  “How could I be excited? I don’t even know the guy.”

  I see a guy walk in who meets the description Kayla gave me earlier. Let me clarify. He kind of meets her description. Her version of tall, dark, and handsome is actually a guy who’s about 5’9 with dark messy hair that needs a good trim and a scruffy face that hasn’t been shaved in at least three days. He’s wearing jeans and a black shirt topped with a faded brown leather jacket.

  “I think he’s here, Kayla. I gotta go.” I hang up and walk over to him.

  “Excuse me. Are you Matt?”

  He puts his hand out and smiles. “Yeah. Morgan?”

  “Yes. Nice to meet you.” I feel like I’m on a job interview. It’s been so long since I’ve been on a date I don’t know how to act and I’m way too nervous.

  “I’m late because I got caught up at work and then traffic was bad. Let’s get a table.”

  He puts his hand on my shoulder and pushes me forward to the hostess. It’s an immediate turnoff. I’ve known the guy for two seconds. What’s with the shoulder grab? And the pushing?

  “Two,” he says to the hostess.

  He keeps his hand on me as we walk to the table. His firm grip is starting to hurt my shoulder. When we sit down, I try to pretend it didn’t happen. Maybe shoulder-grabbing is his thing. Maybe he does it to everyone.

  I check him out from across the table. He’s already scoping out the menu, which I find annoying. Doesn’t he at least want to say hello face-to-face before burying his head in the menu?

  “So Kayla said you two met at a Twins game last summer?”

  He looks up. “Huh? Oh, yeah. I was there with a couple of my buddies. Her and her friends were in the row behind us. We had a good time.” He smirks and it makes me wonder what he meant by that.

  What kind of good time? Did Kayla already sleep with this guy? Is he one of her leftovers?

  The waitress comes to the table for our drink order.

  “I’ll have whatever beer you got on special,” he says. “And we’re ready to order.”

  I haven’t even opened the menu yet.

  “Um, I’m not quite ready.” I start looking through the 8-page menu.

  Matt sighs. “It’s tacos. Burritos. What’s there to look at?”

  “I’m not sure what I want.”

  “I’ll order while you look.”

  He orders, then the waitress waits patiently for me. I can tell by her expression she feels sorry for me having to eat with this jerk. I hope she doesn’t assume we’re actually dating.

  “I’ll have the chicken burrito.” I hand her the menu. “And no sauce on top, please. Thanks.”

  She leaves and Matt says, “So you’re one of those girls.”

  “What girls?”

  “A no-sauce, dressing-on-the-side kind of girl. High maintenance. I’ve dated your type before.”

  “I just don’t like that burrito sauce. That’s all. I’m not high maintenance.”

  As I look at him, I notice he does have nice eyes, green with specks of blue. But I’m so turned off by how he’s acting that his eyes can’t save him.

  The waitress brings his beer. He takes a big gulp of it, then leans over the table. “Enough with the small talk. Let’s get down to business. Kayla says you need some help in the . . .” he looks around, as if trying to be discrete, “in the bedroom. So what were you thinking? Right after dinner? Did you want to go to my place or yours?”

  His beer breath fills the air in front of me. I back away. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I have absolutely no interest in that.” I’m now furious with Kayla and fuming mad at this disgusting guy.

  “She said you wanted to—”

  “You know what? I’m not hungry. Tell the waitress to cancel my order.” I grab my coat and race toward the entrance. Matt doesn’t bother coming after me, which is good because I was just about ready to punch him.

  I bolt out the door into the cold, dark night and race to my car, my stupid new underwear riding up my butt. I get in the car and drive home, vowing to never let Kayla set me up again.

  My cell phone rings the rest of the night but I refuse to answer Kayla’s calls. I have to cool down before speaking to her again.

  I avoid Kayla’s calls in the morning, too, and focus on date two, which is tonight. I’m meeting Paige’s guy at a martini bar in St. Paul. He’s 24 and works with Paige’s husband, not as a stockbroker, but in some other finance-related job.

  Thinking this isn’t going to lead anywhere, I go with my cotton briefs but succumb to the pains of my new bra because it actually does make my boobs look better. I wear a dress and heels since this is more of an upscale bar.

  When I get to the bar, a guy is standing out front and holds the door open for me. I recognize him as the guy Paige described.

  “Morgan?” He smiles.

  “Yes.” I smile back.

  “Hi, I’m Aiden. Did you have any trouble finding the place?”

  “No, not at all.”

  Paige’s description of Aiden is much more accurate than Kayla’s description of Matt. Aiden is about 6’ tall with light brown hair that looks freshly cut. He’s clean shaven and wearing dress pants and a sweater. This guy has potential.

  “I got us a booth,” he says. “But we don’t have to sit there. You can check it out and see if you want to get a table instead.” He seems kind of nervous, even more so than me. He motions me to walk in front of him, but given that I don’t know where we’re going, I walk slowly trying to figure out which booth he means. At least there’s no creepy hand on my shoulder shoving me forward.

  “It’s that booth right there,” he says pointing to my left. “Can I take your coat?”

  “Sure.” I give it to him as I sit down.

  “I�
�m just going to put it on this hook, okay?” He holds my coat over the hook at the end of the booth.

  “Yeah, that’s fine.”

  He sits down across from me, grinning at me and staring, rarely stopping to blink. “So is this booth okay? Because we can move to a different one if you want.”

  I look around, not sure why a different booth would be any better. They’re all the same.

  He seems to be getting even more nervous and the way he keeps bombarding me with questions is putting me on edge.

  I smile, hoping it will help him relax. “So Paige said you work with Michael.”

  “Yes, we started working there around the same time. Paige and Michael are a great couple, aren’t they?”

  “I don’t really know Michael, but I like Paige.”

  “They’re lucky they met in college. Once you’re out in the real world, working all the time, it’s hard to find someone, don’t you think?”

  Before I can answer, the waitress shows up at our table asking for our drink order.

  “Do you know what you want?” Aiden asks me. “Or do you need more time?”

  I give him points for at least asking and not just ignoring me and ordering, the way Matt did.

  “I think I need a minute to check the menu.”

  The waitress leaves and Aiden is staring at me again.

  I glance down, wondering if I spilled something on my dress, but there’s nothing there. “Do I have something on my face?”

  “No, why?” He continues to stare.

  “No reason. So what else do you do besides work?”

  “Not much else. I pretty much just work all the time. How about you?”

  “I’m in a book club. And I go to yoga a few times a week. Oh, and I’m in a wine club.”

  “That sounds fun. I don’t drink, but if I did, I’m sure it would be interesting to learn about all the different types of wine.”

  I give him a strange look. “You don’t drink? Then why are we at a martini bar?”

  “Paige said you liked them. Plus it’s a cool bar and they have a band playing later.”

  The waitress comes back and I order my martini. Aiden orders a sparkling water. I suddenly feel like a drunk.