Listen to the Music
“Excited for your big date?”asksAlice.
We’re sitting in our Client Relations class, waiting for the instructor to arrive. She’s already fifteen minutes late, and unable to resist the pull of getting an early start to their Friday evening, half the students have already walkedout.
I’ll give the instructor another ten minutes, but after that I know I’ll probably be doing the same thing. Two weeks ago, Alice and I went out for some end of the week drinks and I ended up meeting a tall, dark stranger at the bar. By then Alice and I had already progressed from sipping vodka tonics to straight up downing shots of Finlandia, but somehow my tipsy self still managed to impress the guy enough for him to ask me out on adate.
“I am, actually,” I answer. “I know I was kind of drunk when I met him, but we’ve been texting a bit and I think he just might be one of those rare, in-the-middle kind ofguys.”
“In-the-middle?” repeats Alice. “Is that some weird sex term from back in theday?”
I feign offence. “You are only five years younger than me, Alice Strauss. We have the same weird sex terms. To answer your question though, no, it’s not aboutsex.”
Pulling out a notebook from my bag, I flip to an empty page and draw a large Venndiagram.
“Graphs?” questions Alice. “Shit just gotreal.”
“This,” I explain, pointing to one half of the diagram, “is the kind of guys who have drive and motivation.” I write ‘Drive and Motivation’ down in the circle. “Andthis,” I continue, pointing to the second half, “is the kind of guys who are fun and have great personalities.” I label the section accordingly and then point to the middle. “This is the elusive man in the middle, someone who’s as dedicated to reaching their goals as I am, but still has the ability to laugh and beinteresting.”
Alice draws her eyebrows together. “It doesn’t soundthatrare, youknow.”
“I know,” I agree. “I’m really not that demanding, but it isso hardto find someone like this. I’ve met guys who have detailed five year plans and run their own start-up businesses while working a full time job, but they can’t talk about anything other than work and get nervous when they spend more than two hours a day not advancing theircareers.”
“I guess you’d never get more than a quickie,” Alicelaughs.
“And he’d probably be checking his email at the same time,” I joke back. “But then on the other end of the spectrum, there’s the guy who’s hilarious and great at a party and would bang you for two days straight if you let him, but he’stchau tchuaas soon as you start to talk about seriousthings.”
“And you think this guy you’re going out with is the happymedium?”
“Happy,” I agree, “and smart, and driven, and charming, and funny, and a bit mysterious, and really, really great in bed. That’s all Iask.”
Alice shakes her head. “I’ve said it before; you’re the queen of picky. I’d settle for just two or three of thosethings.”
“I don’t settle. Not for myself, and not for anyoneelse.”
“So,” Alice says slyly, pointing at the diagram, “where would Aaron Penn fit in on thisthing?”
I shoot her a look. “This is a diagram for guys I’d actually consider going on dates with. Aaron Penn is not on this. Aaron Penn is overhere.”
I reach for the notebook and draw a small circle in the corner of the page, labelling it ‘Planet of the Douche’ when I’m done. I make a little stick figure and put Aaron’s name on top ofit.
Alice lets out one of her room-shaking laughs and the few students left in the class all stare at us. I check the clock and decide it’s time we got the weekendstarted.
“Do you want a ride home?” I ask Alice, as we make our way through thehall.
“Oh thanks, but I’m working tonight, so I’ll just walkover.”
She has a job at the Subway on the edge of the campus, and never fails to entertain with stories of sandwiches gone wrong. We say goodbye after leaving the building and I head over to the parkinglot.
I hug my books to my chest, running through several imaginary outcomes for this evening as I make my way to my car. It’s been almost two weeks since I’ve seen the guy from the bar and the details of his face have already faded, but I fill them in with some complimentary replacements. He’s a financial advisor at a major bank downtown, and from the sound of his texts he has at least a bit of a sense ofhumor.
I’m so caught up in picturing us sitting in a secluded booth together, his hand making its way up my thigh, that the shoulder knocking hard against mine takes me by surprise. My books scatter across the pavement and I let out a Portuguese curse, almost toppling over. The person who bumped into me grabs onto my upper arm to help me catch mybalance.
“Oh, shit, sorry. I was checkingmy—”
I look up at Aaron Penn just as he looks down at me, his apology going silent as we recognize eachother.
I never noticed his eyes areblue.
