A First Date

First Date

Johnny sat alone at the booth, tapping his foot nervously. His eyes scattered about as he waited impatiently for his date to arrive. We had agreed to 6:30; it’s 6:45, he thought. He kept looking at his phone, re-reading his last text to her: “HERE.” No response from her yet.

He was dressed in a light blue button-up shirt, no tie, with a tan suit jacket and khaki pants. He wore black leather shoes.

6:50—still no date. His face contorted with increasing contempt. He hated waiting. Like, really hated it.

“Sorry, I’m late,” a voice said, surprising him. Seemingly out of nowhere she appeared, in a little red dress. She was more beautiful than her pictures had let on. Her brown hair was cut close to her oval face. This was their first time meeting in real life, though they had spoken for several weeks over social media. However, he had this feeling they had met before, but he couldn’t place it.

“No problem,” he stammered, attempting to rise from his seat only to have his knee hit the table. “Ow,” he said.

“Settle down there, tiger,” she said with a grin before sitting down across from him.

“It’s nice to finally meet you IRL, Emily,” he said. “You look great by the way.”

“Thank you,” she said. “You too.”

The waiter, seeing that Johnny’s guest had finally arrived, approached the table.

“Welcome to Bridgitte’s,” the waiter said with a fake fancy accent. “May I get you two something to drink? Perhaps a Merlot?”

“Yes, two of those,” Johnny said. “Are you ready to order? I’m ready to order.”

“Oh,” she said. “Uh—I guess I can be.”

“Good. I’ll take the steak, medium rare, and she’ll take the salad.”

“Actually,” she interjected, “I’ll have a cheeseburger with some french fries.” She handed the menu to the waiter. The waiter looked back and forth between the two, looking for consensus before writing their order down. Johnny decided he would be patient with her for now.

They sat for a few minutes in silence, her on her phone, him staring at her. The waiter returned with two glasses and a bottle of Meet Cute Merlot. He poured a little in both glasses. The couple each drank at the same time. Johnny winced.

“No, I do not like that,” he told the waiter. “Just bring me a beer or something.”

“Really? You don’t like it?” Emily asked. “I think it tastes good to me.”

“Well, if you like it, I’ll keep buying it for you. But, a guy like me prefers beer.”

“A guy like you, eh,” she said, sipping her drink. “What kind of guy are you?”

“I’m a good guy,” he said grabbing her arm and caressing her hand. “Trust me. I’ll take good care of my girl.”

The waiter placed the beer on the table. Johnny grabbed it and drank deeply. He choked—wrong pipe—catching himself, then cough cough cough, his face getting more red and more embarrassed with each hack of his lungs.

“Are you ok?” Emily asked.

“Yeah, yeah,” he said between heavy breaths. “I guess I was thirstier than I thought.” But, he didn’t stop coughing. “I think—cough, cough—water. Need water!”

But there was no water to be had.

His throat kept restricting. His face turned purple. She just stared at him with cold eyes as she sipped her drink.

“Maybe you should have gotten the Merlot,” she said.

She wasn’t helping him. No one in the restaurant was. For a brief moment, everyone stared at him before returning to their dinners. They kept eating and drinking and cavorting as if he wasn’t there struggling, writhing, dying right next to them. The waiter returned to the table with Emily’s meal, but not Johnny’s. The waiter made no notice of him. Emily thanked the waiter.

Johnny finally stopped moving, his eyes spattered with petechiae.

Second First Date

“Sorry, I’m late,” a voice said, surprising Johnny. She wore a little red dress. She looked oddly familiar, but he couldn’t quite place it.

“I was about to leave,” he said. “I’ve been waiting an hour. But, I’m glad I waited. You’re prettier in person.”

“Are you saying I take bad pictures?” she asked with a grin.

“Not at all,” he leaned towards her. “But the pictures don’t have that breathtaking quality I get in real life.”

“You know, I’m not really that hungry. But, I did get a room from the hotel upstairs. I have some Merlot waiting there.”

This was going to be easier than he thought. They retired to their room; intense expectation led the way.

They entered the room. She barely had a chance to pour some wine before he spun her around and started kissing her. The wine glass fell onto the carpet, plastering it with a deep purple.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said grabbing hold of her head.

“Wait,” she said, backing away. “I want you to give me a strip tease.”

“Oh yea, baby,” he said. She laid on the bed. He danced a little—if you could call it that—as he removed each article of clothing. The last article was his briefs. He slid his fingers in between his skin and the fabric slowly, before banishing them to the floor.

Gasp.

She started laughing and pointing at his groin. He looked down confused, only to be impaled with shock. His member—which he had always considered as prodigious—now strained the eyes it was so small. All he could hear was Emily’s cackling laugh echoing through the room. All the furniture had disappeared; and Emily’s laughing face was plastered on every wall multiplying his shame and rage.

He went red launching himself towards the image on the nearest wall, determined to punish Emily. Glass broke, and he fell through the window in the hotel room, falling three stories onto hard concrete, his neck and ego shattered.

Third First Date

She never showed. He ate by himself, assuming everyone was laughing at the man whose date stood him up like a loser. He left in a huff without even tipping the waiter. As he walked across the street cursing up a storm, he was hit by a bus.

Nth First Date

Such was Johnny Reed’s existence. Inmate number 556439. There was originally a date between Johnny Reed and Emily Prett which was their first and their last. They had in fact eaten at a restaurant called Bridgitte’s, and Emily was late, which Johnny did not like. During their date, he had slipped a substance into her drink.

He would later say, “It was just to loosen her up. I’m a good guy. I never meant for this to happen, I swear.”

They had gone to a hotel room (that she paid for), and she was certainly “looser.” So loose, she tripped, fell, and cracked her head on the corner of a table. Johnny was later arrested and convicted of attempted rape, manslaughter, distribution of a controlled substance and sentenced to twenty years.

His punishment was neural recycling. He was kept immobilized, his brain assaulted by computer programs forcing him to re-live that first date over and over again. Each repetition was more ludicrous and defeating than the last; the computer program designed each one based on his proclivities and insecurities for maximum absurdities.

It was a most post-modern punishment, The De Ford System, created by famed criminologist Miriam De Ford. De Ford theorized that if criminals were forced to repeat their crimes over and over again, they would develop an instinct to avoid such behavior. De Ford was convinced criminals would become more remorseful; in practice, they were reduced to complete mental breakdowns.

This is how Johnny Reed would spend his next twenty years.