Blind Date

My eyes dart every which way as I examine every possible exit to make an escape. I told my best friend, Holly, I was not ready to be dating again, but she insisted. So, here I am: sitting at the far end of the bar in a short, slutty red dress lightly sipping on a martini waiting for the guy to show up.

"Okay if I sit here?" a male voice ask.

"Sure," I say without looking his way. The man sits beside me and orders tequila. I anxiously start to bounce my knee, silently praying the guy stands me up. That way, I can have another drink, go home, order Chinese food, finish the bottle of wine in my fridge, and go to bed.

"You okay?" the man asks.

"What's it to you?" I retort, still examining the exits.

"Your knee is bouncing, and you're looking for the fastest escape out of here." Damn, random dude. Observant, much?

"Not that it's any of your business," I say. "But, I'm waiting for someone."

"Blind date?" he asks. That obvious, huh?

"Yes, actually. Though, I'm starting to regret it." I finally swallow my pride and look up at him. And damn, is he a sight to see? Blue eyes, brown hair, light blue shirt, navy blue pants, and dark dress shoes. Dare I say he's might be the hottest man on Earth.

"So," he says after taking a sip of his drink. "What are you most worried about?"

"Excuse me?" I ask, raising an eyebrow.

"About your date. What's your biggest fear?" Truthfully, I've thought about the many things that could go wrong. What if he's arrogant? What if he's cheap? Or worse: what if he wears AXE Body Spray? But, those are all superficial things. There's one thing that I'm truly worried about. But, I'm not sure if I want to air out my business to this stranger.

"You want a deep, honest answer?" I ask; my fingers start to fidget. "Or a superficial, bullshit answer?"

"Deep, honest answer," he answers quickly. Damn! I take a longer sip of my drink and a deep breath before answering.

"I'm worried," I start. The man slightly turns his body toward me. "That this guy won't have what I want."

"Anything in particular?" he asks.

"Plenty of things. A connection, for one. Understanding. Respect for boundaries. And I certainly want us to be on the same page at all time, even if things change. I mean, that's life, isn't it? Full of changes, constantly." I realize that I'm rambling and stop myself. I look at him and find that his face was neutral. He didn't look overwhelmed or even surprised.

"Wow," I say with anstonishment. "You are not easy to scare off."

"Nope," he simply says with a small smile.

"Most guys would have ran out the door or at the very least to the other side of the bar."

"Do you mind if I make an assumption?"

"I guess."

"You recently got out of long-term relationship that ended horribly. I'm guessing it was a case of you wanting one thing and him wanting something completely different. After it was over, you swore that you'd be a little more discerning about the next guy you meet. Additionally, this is your first date since the break-up, courtesy of your pushy yet well-meaning friend. You're trying to keep your standards low enough to not scare him away but high enough to avoid another disappointment. How'd I do?"

Holy shit. He's not just close, he's in the ballpark. I stare at him with anstonisment once again. Is he my personal CIA agent? Or a stalker?

"How...?" I begin to ask.

"How was I able to guess that?" he finished my question.

"Exactly, especially since we just met and have only talked for less than five minutes."

"You said a whole lot while saying very little." What is this, a riddle? He sees the confusion and skeptacism on my face.

"In other words," he continues. "You told me enough for me to get a decent picture."

"Hm." I pick up my glass, preparing to take a sip. Before I can get a sip in, I pause. I turn back to him, holding my glass in mid-air. He downs the rest of his drink and signals the bartender for another.

"By any chance," I ask; he turns to me. "Did major in psychology in college?"

"I did," he replies with a firm nod and a smirk. The wheels begin to turn in my head as I remembered Holly mentioning the guy being a psych major. I also remeber physically cringing upon hearing that.

"You're Ben," I state, pointing at him.

"And you're Diana," he says; his smirk grows wider.

"You let me ramble on about you and didn't think to interrupt me?"

"I was taught to never interrupt anyone, let alone a woman. Besides, you seemed nervous and tense; I thought I'd help ease you."

"Well, it worked." I look away and try to hide my evergrowing blush. The bartender gives Ben a second glass of tequila and refreshes my martini.

"Did you actually guess my situation?" I ask suspiciously. "Or did Holly tell you?"

"She told me as much as you did," Ben admits. "That your long-term relationship ended horribly."

"Hm." We sit quietly sipping our drinks as soft, instumental music plays low in the background.

"Can I be honest?" I ask, taking a deep breath.

"Shoot," he says with a firm nod.

"I was kind of praying you would stand me up."

"Oh? Sorry to disappoint." A small, beguiling smile spreads across his face; I feel my cheeks burn and quickly look away.

"What was your plan?" he asks, curiously. I turn back to him with a questioning look. "If I had stood you up."

"I would have went home," I reply with a shrug. "Ordered Chinese food, finished a bottle of wine, and called it a night."

"I like Chinese food." I look at him and then at my watch. It was only a quarter 'till 10; he finishes his drink and asks for the bill. I also finish my drink and reach in my purse for my wallet.

"Let me," he says, pulling his own wallet out of his pocket. "I'll pay for the food, too."

"I never accepted," I state.

"And I never invited." He proceeds to pay both our tabs and hops off his stool. He holds out his hand, offering to help me off my stool. I take ahold of his and get off the stool. We leave the bar side-by-side and head to our next destination.