He called me Maggie instead of Rose.
Fudge berries. He remembers me, after all.
ROSE
ONE WEEK EARLIER
Whoever (read: Timmy) said going to a random karaoke bar for a double date was a brilliant idea was wrong. I feel beyond mortified while my date Benjamin sings an embarrassing version of one of my all-time favorite songs. He’s totally butchering it. We all need thatfast carto get away from here.
The worst part isn’t his voice, which is too high for a man his age. No, it’s the fact that he just told me he loves me in front of an audience after only two and a half dates. I visibly wince, thinking of his words before his performance.
This song is to my love Rose, who has changed my life quickly. Love you, muffin.
How can he love me already while I feel nothing for him?
Zero, zip, zilch, nada.
What I do feel is dread. Heaps of it. This can’t be happeningagain. Benjamin was supposed to be a safe choice for casual dating as he works with Timmy, one of my roommates. When he showed me Benjamin’s photo the first time, I felt a little giddy to meet him. My date looked nice with his dark blonde hair and seemed like a good guy before we started going out earlier this month. Then we met for ice cream, and he opened his mouth. That ruined my opinion of him. I wonder why I still went out with him again.And again.
Benjamin told me how he wanted that perfect picture of the American Dream within the first ten minutes of our date. You know what I mean—a white picket fence, 2.5 kids, a dog, and friendly neighbors in the suburbs—the whole nine yards. Sure, I hope to have children too one day. But was it necessary to mention them right after meeting me for the first time?
No, Benjamin, it wasn’t.
It was like someone hit a panic switch in my head after his plans, and my feelings changed drastically. Timmy suggested this double date with him and his partner Jon to make it more comfortable for me after another weird date last week. Timmy’s plan clearly didn’t work. Tonight is our third and final date.
I start laughing nervously after Benjamin finishes his performance and walks over to our table in the corner. He tries to kiss me, but I turn around just in time for his lips to touch my right cheek. My date gives me a quick peck and narrows his eyes, showing distaste.
Trying to make up a reasonable excuse to leave but coming up empty, I squeak, “I think this was it, Benjamin.”
I stop to take a huge gulp of my cocktail before anything else. It burns down my throat as my mind races. Liquid courage always helps. I wish there was tequila or Jack nearby. A shot or three would do wonders.
Continuing, I babble in a hurry.“You seem like a nice guy. But it isn’t working between us, I’m just not feeling it. I would say that it isn’t you, but it is. I mean, sorry, but bye. Please don’t text me anymore. Lose my number. Thanks.”
Oh, crab cakes. I wasn’t supposed to voice all that aloud.
I often communicate things wrong if the situation makes me nervous, anxious, or both. If you can’t tell, I am feeling both at this moment. Especially now that everyone else heard me, too. Timmy’s jaw drops open as he processes what I just said. Jon avoids my gaze and studies his fingernails. Benjamin looks like someone just kicked his puppy. Yet, I still don’t feel anything for him.
Standing up quickly, I toss back the rest of my drink and leave the bar without a backward glance. The front door feels heavier than earlier. My temples pound with each beat of my heart, and sweat starts forming on my face. I feel lightheaded as I step outside.
The early summer air makes me feel cooler. I swipe my forehead with a napkin I took from the bar. I hate sweating like a turkey at Christmas. It’s just one of the symptoms beyond my control, just like being emotional over everything.
It sounds like someone is calling my name, but I don’t stop until I’m inside a taxi. I mumble our home address and try to relax. I take the first deep breath in the past hour after confirming that the driver heard me right. Deep breaths should help me calm down a bit before the cab arrives at our brownstone.
This evening acts as a reminder of why I should avoid dating before finishing my college degree. Dating takes too much time, effort, and energy that I don’t currently have. If my reaction is like this after every failed dating attempt, my head might just randomly explode one day.
* * *
I hear Haisley and Marianne’s raised voices coming from inside the house.Great. They must be expecting an explanation of what happened tonight.
Opening the red front door to our brownstone, I see Marianne standing there styling her short afro while Haisley is texting on her phone and playing with her long golden strands. If I’m not mistaken, a notification sound from a popular dating app tells us that she has a new match. Someone is getting lucky soon, unlike me.
“Rosie, you’re home! Timmy was so worried after you left the karaoke bar without saying goodbye to them. Are you okay, sweetie?” Marianne quizzes me while taking me into a warm and protective embrace. Timmy must have called them after I hurriedly left the bar.
The comforting smell of Marianne’s body oil, the one that gives her medium brown skin a sun-kissed glow, fills my nostrils. The familiar sweet vanilla bean scent soothes my nerves instantly. I take more air into my lungs and lean against her. My mind is calming down with each moment that passes.
“Yeah, I’m feeling much better. I’m so sorry for worrying all of you. Tonight’s date was a bag ofshiitake mushrooms.” I reply and hug Marianne’s five-foot-six athletic body tighter. She relaxes after hearing that everything is okay with me.
Haisley chuckles at my use of swear alternatives, as always. She thinks I should just get over with it and sayfuckandshitjust like she does. It just isn’t me. I can only imagine myself sayingfuckcombined withmewhile in bed with someone. But that would need all the heat and lust to happen. How things are looking right now, there’s no chance of that happening any time soon.
