My phone beeps and Dave lunges for it.
“Oh … Hey there!” he says to someone.
Now I’m curious. I look away from Lilly.
“What? Who is it?” I ask, reaching for my phone.
He pulls away and types on it.
“What are you doing?” I say.
“Setting you up on a date with Foxy25.”
“Foxy25 – you know, from the dating site I set up for you.”
Dave! There he goes again. Always meddling in my life. Why can’t he just leave me alone? I don’t need help meeting women; I don’t want to meet any women.
“You did what? Why?”
I’m outraged. But I know this emotion is wasted on Dave. He doesn’t care about my feelings. He never listens to anything I say.
“Because you need to get laid,” he says, nudging my arm with his elbow.
I wish he’d stop that; it hurts. How would he like it if I grabbed this fork and stuck it in his arm? He’d probably laugh. With all those muscles he carries around in his tight shirt, he probably wouldn’t feel a thing. I hate the guy.
“I – ” I’m so shocked I can barely speak. “You shouldn’t have done that.” I sound deflated. “You know how I am with women.”
“I’ll come with you.”
Oh, now I see. It’s not about me at all, but about Dave hooking up with some random chick, pretending he’s doing it for me. Why am I not surprised?
“Dude, I’ll be your wingman. What’s a captain without his wingman? You’ll be Robin to my Batman,” he says, laughing, and I know he means it exactly like that. Yeah, that’s all I am to him.
I nod my head and turn towards Lilly. She’s laughing with one of the ladies at the counter, sipping her coffee. She walks over to a table. But her walk is more than a walk: she floats. I love how graceful she is, even in her tights and training shoes.
I guess a date wouldn’t hurt. Think of it like a practice run before I speak to Lilly, I think to myself.
I give in. “Fine. Let’s do it,” I say.
“My man.” Dave pounces on my arm again. This time his knuckles collide with me and leave a bruise.
“She’s cute, though,” he says as he hands me the phone.
Foxy likes reading, cooking and spending time outdoors looking for adventure. Or, at least, that’s what her bio says. She’s looking for someone sweet, gentle and loving. Someone she can enjoy life with.
I look at her picture and she is cute in her geeky glasses. She is out-of-my-league beautiful. But she is not even close to my Lilly. I look towards the counter and Lilly is gone.
“What’s got you all serious?” Dave says, nudging me again.
Cut it out, I want to yell. But I don’t.
“Nothing,” I say.
He has his little black book out and is scoring yet another chick. He keeps a pocket book with the names and numbers of all the girls he’s been with. He scores them out of five and anyone below a three he would only “get back with” if he were really striking out.
“So who is this new bird of yours?” I ask, trying to divert attention.
“The one I told you about. From the bottle store. With the big rack. We had a moment … It was e-l-e-c-t-r-i-c,” he says, dragging out the last word. “But she’s a little too young for me. I’ll have to ditch her – fast.”
I look over at the book and he’s scoring her – Miranda. Two stars. I wonder what Foxy’s friend will score tonight.
Question: How do you think the blind date will go?