12
Iwas on what felt like date four hundred. I'd taken to not counting Lucas into my dating numbers because he was a total prick. I sat in an expensive dress at an overpriced restaurant with a man I couldn't understand. I didn't mean he had an accent or couldn't speak English, I meant he spoke way over my head. He made me feel like I was a toddler learning how to read for the first time. So I couldn't help my vacuous stare or the fact that my eyes were glazing over. I was a product of the public school system and this guy was a product of...I don't know...Stephen Hawking? He was handsome, though, but if I could never understand him, was this even worth pursuing? I let out a little sigh.
"Grace?" The man's blue eyes were curious.
"Oh. Um. Yes?"
A small smile formed on his mouth. "I've done it again. I am so sorry." He let out a charming, self-deprecating laugh. "You were totally spaced out. Let me guess. Was it the space time continuum that got you or the European farming practices solo that finally sent you over the edge?"
I blinked in surprise. I hadn't been aware he'd been talking about either. "Errrmmm."
"No, don't worry," he said on a chuckle. "I wasn't talking about either of those things, but it's nice to know you spaced out almost as soon as I started talking."
I let out an embarrassed snort. "I'm so sorry," I admitted. "I didn't mean to."
He raised a hand. "No. It's my fault. It's the story of my life." He frowned. "Well, my dating life that is." His hair was dark and on the shaggy side. He wore square rimmed glasses and a well-fitting suit. I could tell his body was athletic, but I couldn't tell what he did for fitness. He had a nice smile, he smelled nice, and he appeared to be a gentleman, but when he started talking, I almost immediately zoned out.
His name was Norman. Unfortunate, that. I wondered why Portia didn't have any folks with cool names like Raphael or Marcus, or Vincenzo. I'd bring that up the next time I talked to her. Which would be soon because I needed to curse her out about all of these terrible dates.
"When I get nervous, it's like my intellect screams up to a million." He laughed again. "I realize that sounds egotistical, but I assure you everything I've been talking about has been memorized from a book, so I'm basically just regurgitating facts. I honestly hate to date. It feels false to me. Like maybe I can't really be myself until I've built up to it."
I nodded. "I feel the same way. Right now I'd like to tear this dress off and set it on fire. Then I'd like to throw these shoes off a cliff."
His eyes lit up with genuine humor. "Not a dress gal?"
I shook my head. "Occasionally. More like not a Spanx gal. I feel like I'm in a torture device designed solely for those with a vagina."
Norman cracked up. "And direct, too. I like that. So many people, as I'm sure you've just noticed, use words to deflect from their true purposes and agenda."
My thoughts went right back to Lucas. He'd hit the nail on the head there. "They do. It's exhausting."
Norman leaned forward. "So tell me, Grace. Why are you dating?"
I studied him, the handsome face, the earnest look in his eyes and decided to hell with it. "I want to get married and start a family. I'm getting older. It's lonely out there. I thought I wanted to date, but I'm completely miserable doing it."
Norman nodded. "Me too. I was set up with one of the Comey sisters and I honestly thought the next time people saw me, it would be my dead body under a mound of dirt and leaves found by the edge of a deserted highway."
I laughed out loud. "It couldn't have been that bad."
Norman shuddered. "Utterly terrifying. By the middle of the date, I'd gone through the Fibonacci sequence twelve times."
I pressed my lips together to keep from laughing. "I'm so sorry."
"Me too. Never again."
"So why are you so interested in dating?"
Norman took a sip of his wine and shrugged. "Same as you, I guess. Although I don't want kids right away if I meet someone. I think that's a recipe for disaster. I'm tired of the dating scene, the awkwardness and sometimes primal fear involved."
I laughed at that one. The Comey sisterswerepretty scary. "Have you ever had any really weird dates?"
His eyes glittered. Norman really was handsome. "Beside the one where I thought I was going to be a statistic?" He looked up at the ceiling. "A few. One woman collected fur pelts. That wasn't super weird, but she had them dry cleaned on a weekly basis and they all had names."
Wow. "Okayyy." I thought about Lucas showing up like the lumberjack hipster.
"And then I was supposed to meet a girl at a restaurant outside the city limits and when I showed up, she had her entire family with her. She'd told them all it was an engagement party."
"What the hell? And you didn't fire Portia?"