Worst Date Ever

by J. S. Cooper

  “So, have you decided what you want to eat?” he asked me, changing the subject.

  “I figure I’ll get what you recommend, the steak and roast potatoes and Yorkshire pudding.”

  To hell with the diet. It wasn’t going that well anyway. Maybe I’d start again next week or next month. I knew that Abby, Chloe, and Emma would be upset, but for all I knew, they cheated as well. Low carb was hard. I was craving potatoes, and I was dying to try Yorkshire pudding. I mean, when was I ever going to have an opportunity like this again. For the prices this restaurant was charging, it was probably really good. And if I was getting a free meal, I was going to get something I wanted, not a grilled chicken salad.

  “Okay. So, let me get the waiter. Would you like to share a bottle of wine as well?”

  “Of course, why not? All in, right?”

  “Sorry, what?” he said.

  “Oh, nothing,” I said quickly, blushing. Had I just said “all in” out loud? Shit. That was meant to be something I said to myself.

  “So, what would you like?”

  “Let’s get a bottle of red wine.”

  “Okay. Any wine that you’re interested in in particular?”

  “I don’t know, maybe a Cabernet Sauvignon, or a Merlot, if you prefer?”

  “I was thinking of a Pinot Noir, but I don’t mind a Cab.”

  Okay, great, let’s do a Cab, it’s my favorite.”

  “Okay. Learning something new about you already.”

  “Yeah, I guess that’s what the night will be, full of surprises,” I said with a grin.

  “I guess it will. I think tonight is going to be a very good night, Isabella.”

  “Well, I sure hope so.” I paused. “Even though I’m not Pamela Anderson,” I laughed.

  “Hey, I never said I was into Pamela Anderson, did I? Maybe, just maybe, I prefer brunettes.”

  “Well, maybe, just maybe, I prefer brunettes as well,” I said smugly. His eyes lit up, and he shook his head and chuckled.

  “Touché.” He ran a hand through his very attractive blonde hair. “Maybe I’ll have to change your mind.”

  “Maybe you will, but maybe you won’t,” I said, loving the flirtation. I sat back and smiled to myself. Maybe tonight would be a good night after all.

  Chapter Four

  Bank Account Balance: $1500

  Days Since My Last Date: 430 days

  Current Weight: 175 lbs

  * * *

  Quote of the day: “Nothing is impossible, the word itself says 'I'm possible'! -Audrey Hepburn

  * * *

  I was feeling quite happy about the date. Happy that I had stayed, and happy that I was getting to know Jack. I was even starting to think Abby had actually had a good idea for once. I didn’t know if I was going to tell her that, but it was fair to say that I was feeling pleased and enjoying myself. Initially, Jack had annoyed me, but he wasn’t so bad.

  Of course, you should never count your chickens before they hatch because inevitably something is going to go wrong.

  “So, Isabella,” asked Jack, “Were you named after Isabella Rossellini?”

  “Was I named after who?”

  “Isabella Rossellini.”

  “Oh, you mean the model?”

  “Yeah, the model.”

  “No,” I answered with a light chuckle.

  “Oh, okay. Who were you named after then?”

  “I don’t know,” I shrugged. “Who were you named after, Jack? Jack and the Beanstalk?” I giggled, but I could tell from the look on his face he didn’t think it was as funny as I did.

  “No, I wasn’t named after Jack and the Beanstalk. Were you named after Miss Piggy?”

  “Excuse me?” My jaw dropped. “What is that supposed to mean?”

  “It was a joke.”

  “That wasn’t a very funny joke.” I stared at him through narrowed eyes. “I really hope you’re not going to try and become a comedian in your lifetime because I don’t think that it’s going to go well.”

  “Well, I really hope that you’re not going to become a manager for any comedians in your lifetime because with that sort of support I don’t think someone will ever go far.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “It means that you’re a dream killer.”

  “I’m a dream killer? Excuse me?”

  “Or should I say you’re a dream crusher?”

  “I’ll crush something, and it’s not your dreams.” I took another sip of wine.

  “Oh, yeah? Is that your way of coming on to me?” He laughed. I felt his hand touch my knee under the table.

  “Get your hand off of me!” I glared at him. “I didn’t say you could touch me.”

  “But I thought we were having a good time.”

  “This is the first date. And if you think this is having a good time, I’d hate to see your idea of a bad date.”

  “I didn’t know you were so interested in any other dates of mine.” He raised an eyebrow. “Kind of weird, isn’t it?”

  “What’s kind of weird?”

  “The fact that you’re on a date with me and you’re talking about my other dates. Or is that your way of trying to figure out how many other dates I go on?”

  “Dude, I don’t care how many other dates you go on. I don’t even care if you have another date tonight. Like, you’re lucky I’m even here.” I shook my head. “Maybe I should actually just go.”

  “What?” He looked annoyed. “Why would you leave? I thought we were having a good time. Plus you ordered your steak, and it’s expensive.”

  “Okay, so I’ve got to stay because the meal’s expensive? What, do I have to sleep with you as well?”

  “I didn’t say that. I don’t understand where your attitude is coming from. I’m sorry that I touched your shoulder and I’m sorry that I touched your knee. I thought we were having a moment. I thought we were flirting, which many adults do. But hey, if we’re not, then—”

  “Fine. Sorry. It’s been a long time since I’ve been on a date and maybe I just don’t know how to act anymore.” I didn’t really think that was the case, but I was trying to be polite.

  “So, Isabella?”

  “Yes, Jack? Why do you keep saying my name?”

  “Maybe I like your name.” He sighed. “You’re a difficult woman to be on a date with.”

  “I’m difficult?” I thought back to our conversation thus far. Okay, maybe I was being a little difficult. But he had rankled me from the very first moment we’d laid eyes on each other, and I was finding it hard to get back on track.

  “Sorry. Shall we start over?”

  “Sure.”

  “Should we walk back to the front of the restaurant?” He grinned.

  “What?”

  “You wanted to start over, right?”

  “Yeah, but …”

  “So let’s go to the front of the restaurant and pretend we’re meeting for the first time.

  “But we’re already seated and we’ve already ordered our meals, and—”

  “Hey. It will take two minutes. Let’s do it.”

  “I guess.” I felt like an idiot, but as he stood up, I stood up as well. We walked back to the front of the restaurant. Several other diners stared at us, and our waiter gave us an odd glance.

  “Okay, you go outside.”

  “What?” I looked at him.

  “Go outside. Pretend you’re walking in for the first time, and I’ll stand here.”

  “Huh. This is weird.”

  “It’s fine. Trust me. It will be good for us.”

  “Okay,” I said, as I walked outside. I grabbed my phone from my handbag and texted Abby, “I am going kill you when I get home. This date is an absolute bust and weird, and—” I quickly put my phone back in the handbag. I couldn’t afford to spend more time texting Abby. I took a couple of deep breaths and walked back into the restaurant. I looked around and saw Jack standing in the corner. He beamed as soon as we made eye contact and walke
d over to me. He held his hand out.

  “Hi. You must be Isabella. You’re gorgeous. I’m your date, Jack.”

  I stared at him for a few seconds and tried not to laugh. This was a very different greeting. I took his hand and shook it.

  “Hi, Jack. Yes, I’m Isabella. It’s so nice to meet you.”

  “You’re even more beautiful than your photos suggested.”

  “Um, okay. Thank you.”

  “Your hair looks like it could be in magazines for shampoo advertisements. Your lashes are so long and luscious that if I didn’t know better, I’d think you were a spokeswoman for Maybelline—”

  “Oh my gosh, dude. You’re really pouring it on strong.”

  “What?” He winked at me. “I wanted to make a good first impression—well, okay,” he laughed. “A good second first impression.”

  “Fine. Shall we make our way to the table?”

  “Why of course,” he said. He looked at my hand and then stepped back. “I will not take your hand because this is our first date and we don’t know each other well enough for me to touch you.”

  “Okay. Thank you.” Even though he was trying to be nice, a part of me wondered if he was teasing me and being deliberately obnoxious on purpose. Like did he really have to throw in that comment? We walked back to our table, and he looked at my chair and then at me.

  “Now I couldn’t quite tell if you enjoyed me pulling the chair out for you before, or not.”

  “I did,” I nodded.

  “Okay.” He pulled the chair out for me again, and I sat and he pushed it in. He then walked around to the side of the table and sat down. “You know what, Isabella?

  “What, Jack?” I picked up my glass of wine and took another long sip. I could tell this was going to be a long night.

  “I think that you could be the new star of Baywatch. Forget Pamela Anderson.”

  I groaned and held my hands up. “Are you kidding me? This is not any better. In fact, that might be worse. I think that—”

  “What?” He held his glass of wine up, his eyes sparkling. “Are you just telling me that I’m a bad first date?”

  “I don’t want to say that to your face, but—”

  “Would you say it behind my back?”

  “Yeah,” I laughed. “I’m going to tell my best friend who—” I nearly said, arranged this date, but stopped myself right in time. “Who encouraged me to go on a date.” I took another long sip of wine. “I’m hungry. I hope our meal is here soon.”

  “Yeah, you do look like you enjoy a good meal.”

  “Excuse me? Did you just call me fat?”

  “No, I didn’t mean it like that! I just meant to say that you were studying the menu for so long that I could tell that you’re the sort of person that likes to eat.” He made a face. “Okay. Even I know I put my foot in it this time. Please, forgive me.”

  “What? You’re asking me for forgiveness? I’m shocked.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you don’t seem like the sort of guy that would be asking for forgiveness.”

  “Oh, really? So you can tell the sort of guy I am?”

  “Um, obviously, probably, not really, but …”

  “But what?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe we should change the subject. Talk about something else?”

  “So what would you like to talk about?”

  “Um, what do you do for fun?”

  “What do I do for fun? We had an entire conversation about it just yesterday.”

  “Really?” I sighed. “I’m trying to make conversation here and you’re making it really hard.”

  “I’m making it hard? I’m a little offended that you can’t remember anything about me. Or are you just talking to that many guys?”

  “That’s really none of your business. I’m sure I’m not the only woman you’ve been talking to.”

  “True. So maybe this will jog your memory. I’m really into movies.”

  “Okay, then?”

  “Remember my favorite filmmaker is Roberto Rossellini?”

  “Um, not really. But I guess that’s why you were curious about my name,” I said, finally understanding.

  “Yeah,” he nodded, “I’m not sure if you know, seeing as you’re into art at all, but Roberto Rossellini was actually one of the creators of neo-realism. And I think he’s one of the most influential directors of all time.”

  “Hm, I actually didn’t know that. What are some of his movies? Is there one that you would recommend?”

  “You’ve never seen any of Roberto Rossellini’s movies?” He looked shocked.

  “I can’t say that I have, but if there’s one that you recommend—”

  “There are many that I recommend. Germany, Year Zero, or Europe 51, Rome, Open City. Well, he wrote those. Are you wanting to know the movies that he wrote or the movies that he directed?”

  “I mean … I don’t really know.”

  “Have you seen Garibaldi?”

  “No.”

  “Oh, it’s amazing. I’m a bit of a history buff as well, and Garibaldi is about how Italy’s national hero, Giuseppe Garibaldi—” He paused, “I’m not sure if you’ve heard of him?”

  “Vaguely. Maybe I took a class in college,” I shrugged. “Not really.”

  “Well, the movie is about how Garibaldi left a military campaign known as Expedition of the Thousand in 1860 and conquered Sicily and Naples. It’s amazing. I just think that—” he paused, “Sorry. I told you I’m a movie buff and a bit of a film nerd. I don’t want to bore you.”

  “It’s not boring. That sounds cool. Maybe I’ll see if it’s on Netflix.”

  “I doubt it’s on Netflix.” He looked a bit pained. “But maybe. What’s your favorite movie?”

  “I don’t know if I want to admit it.”

  “No, tell me.”

  “Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind.”

  “Oh,” he chuckled, “of course.”

  “What’s that mean, of course?”

  “Well, when I meet women, their favorite movie is usually either The Notebook or Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. And if they’re trying to impress me, they say The Godfather.”

  “Okay. So you’re saying that I’m a cliche?”

  “No. What’s your second favorite movie?”

  “Well, now I just know you’re going to judge me.”

  “No, tell me.”

  “It’s The Sound of Music.”

  “Really? The Sound of Music?”

  “Yeah. Why are you so surprised?”

  “I don’t know. You didn’t look like a woman that would be into The Sound of Music.”

  “I love musicals. I love that movie. I’ve been watching it since I was a little kid. I watch it every Christmas. It’s really sentimental to me, you know?”

  “So does that mean that you want to be a nun someday?”

  “Oh, hell no.” I started laughing and shook my head. “Couldn’t be a nun.”

  “Oh, and why is that?” His voice lowered.

  “I think we both know why that is.”

  “No. Why don’t you care to enlighten me?”

  “Because,” I paused, “I like—”

  “Yeah?”

  He leaned forward and I knew he wanted me to talk about sex because he was a typical man. And even though I did want to talk about sex and even though I did want to flirt with him, I didn’t want to give him what he wanted. So I took another sip of my wine and I said, “I like …”

  “Yeah?”

  “… indulging in chocolates,” I said with a small smile.

  “What?” He sat back in his chair. “What are you talking about? What has that got to do with being a nun?”

  “Well, nuns aren’t meant to do anything in excess. And sometimes I feel like I eat chocolates in excess, you know?”

  He groaned. “Oh my gosh, Isabella. You really are one of a kind, aren’t you?”

  “I like to think so,” I said, pleased that I’d go
tten under his skin for just one moment.

  Chapter Five

  Bank Account Balance: $1200.39

  Days Since My Last Date: 0days

  Current Weight: 173 lbs

  * * *

  Quote of the day: “To be yourself in a world that is constantly trying to make you something else is the greatest accomplishment.” - Ralph Waldo Emerson

  * * *

  “So you’re quite the comedian yourself, aren’t you?” Jack said, a smirk on his face.

  “No, I never said I was a comedian. Why would you say that?”

  “Chocolate?” he raised an eyebrow. “Really? Chocolate?”

  “What did you think I was talking about?” I said innocently.

  “We both know that you know what I thought you were talking about.” His voice was deep and husky.

  I swallowed hard. Of course, I knew he was talking about sex, and of course, a part of me was talking about sex, but I didn’t want to be that sort of girl, at least not right away.

  “You’re so different than you were when I was talking to you online,” he frowned slightly, looking puzzled.

  “Oh, how so?”

  “You’re a little bit more mischievous, not so direct.” He was thoughtful for a second. “I don’t know. Maybe you’re using humor to deflect your insecurities.”

  “What insecurities?” I said, far too quickly.

  “I don’t know. I don’t know you well enough to know what they are. Unlike you,” he smiled, “I don’t just assume I know someone based upon a first meeting.”

  “I didn’t assume anything about you. It’s not my fault if you took what I said seriously or—”

  “I’m not a psychiatrist or a psychologist, but normally when women are this bitchy on a first date, it means one of three things.”

  “Excuse me, are you calling me a bitch?”

  “No, that’s not what I’m saying, but you are being combative. Do you not agree with me?”

  “Uh, I don’t know. What about me is being combative?”

  And then I stopped myself because of course, I was being combative, and I didn’t want to be. He was right. I did have a guard up, and not all of it was due to him. A lot was due to my ex, who’d been an asshole and who’d totally broken my heart. He cheated on me, and then he gaslighted me to make me feel like it was my fault, and for a couple of months I’d really thought it had been. But thank God for my best friends. They’d made me see the truth. They helped me realize that him cheating on me had nothing to do with me and everything to do with him being the biggest douchebag that he was.