Check, Please!

You should see this attractive woman waiting alone at a two-top. She’s been in this packed restaurant for a while and seems a bit frustrated. She taps her fingers beside an empty plate.

Finally, here comes a man. The woman straightens her posture, and her date pulls out a chair with a nervous face on display and takes a seat.

“You’re late,” she says, sipping the last of the wine from her glass. “Do you always keep women waiting?”

“My apologies. Traffic.”

“Sure. Traffic. It’s always traffic.”

The server comes by with two menus and asks the man what he wants to drink—bourbon on the rocks. The woman grimaces.

“Ew, that’s disgusting.”

The nervous man adjusts his tie and smirks.

“It’s to sedate the butterflies in my stomach. A little liquid courage.”

The server offers to refill the lady’s drink.

“Merlot.”

“A wine connoisseur,” says her date, aligning the silverware in front of him.

“Not exactly.”

There’s a beat of uncomfortable silence as the woman looks around the room.

“This is a nice place. I’ve never been here before.”

“A co-worker recommended it.”

“What do you do for a living?”

“I’m in sales.”

“Like a drug dealer?”

His laugh is anxious.

“No, no. I’m not a drug dealer. What about you? What do you do?”

She sighs.

“I’d rather not talk about work if you don’t mind.”

The server returns with their beverages and asks if they’re ready to order from the menu. The man needs a couple more minutes to decide, and the server leaves to attend to a neighboring table.

Clearing his throat, the man continues.

“I’ve been craving a steak all day.”

“Are you sure you should be eating that stuff? I mean…”

She points to his stomach. It’s not large, but rounder than someone in good health. He looks down and up, ignoring her rude comment.

“What are you having?”

“A salad.”

He bounces his head with his bottom lip pursing as his eyes skim the last page of the menu.

“Interesting. I would have guessed something to throw a little more meat on those bones.”

She winces and sips her Merlot.

“You think I’m too skinny?”

“I didn’t say that, but that dress looks like it could swallow you whole.”

She scoffs.

“Funny. That suit makes you look like a car sales—wait a minute. You’re not a car salesman, are you?”

“We’re not talking about our jobs, remember?”

He folds his menu closed and lays it down. The server takes this as a sign that the couple is ready to order and comes back. The two stick to their first choice, despite the other’s comments, and the server takes off to the kitchen.

“So,” the man says, gulping a swig of his bourbon, “tell me about yourself.”

The woman bites her lip.

“What do you want to know?”

“Anything. Isn’t that what people do on the first date? Get to know each other? Do you have any children?”

“No. My husband…”

“You’re married?”

“Not really. My recent husband never wanted kids.”

“Why is that?”

“You would have to ask him. What about you? Any crotch-goblins?”

The man snickers, and his eyes examine the room to avoid contact with her.

“No.”

“Ever been married?”

“Once.”

“It didn’t work out?”

“Not quite.”

“Shocker.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing.”

He shakes his head and smiles.

“You know, when I first saw you, I thought you seemed nice. Hence why I asked you out.”

“I am nice.”

“When do I get to see that side of you?”

“Maybe you haven’t earned it yet. You were late, and then you made a crack about my weight and my dress.”

“You started it. I’m just following suit.”

“This isn’t a poker game.”

“Fine. Let’s start over.”

She waits, swallowing another drink of Merlot. Her glass is half-empty now.

“What kind of things do you like to do for fun?”

“Oh, let’s see. I enjoy golfing…”

The woman’s eyes close as he continues.

“Reading…”

She leans her head to the side.

“Uh…going to the movies.”

She snores a couple of times.

His face falls straight.

“None of those things interest you?”

She sits up, pretending she fell asleep.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Am I that boring? What excites you?”

She raises an eyebrow.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Anyone eavesdropping on this conversation can see this man needs more bourbon. He notices the server walking back from the kitchen with two plates in hand and chugs the rest of his drink to show he wants a refill. The server asks if there’s anything else he can get the couple. The man rattles the ice in his glass, and the server takes it to the bar.

The man is about to cut into his steak.

“This looks delicious.”

She pokes a leaf of lettuce with her fork.

“Looks aren’t everything.”

He hangs his head and sets the fork and knife back down.

“Are you always like this?”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know. Negative?”

She stabs her salad, a rather chunky bite of greens and dressing.

“You think I’m negative?”

“Is something wrong?”

She turns the fork around. With her other hand, she pulls back on the prongs like a catapult.

“Why would you think something is wrong.”

“Because you’re…”

She flings the shot of salad over the table. It lands on his face, and a smear of ranch drizzles down his cheek. She laughs like a little kid.

He sighs and wipes his face.

“Seriously?”

She giggles, but he’s not impressed. He doesn’t want to contribute to the scene she’s trying to make.

“Don’t be a pansy,” she says. “I don’t like pansies.”

“I think maybe I should leave.”

“Why?”

“Because dating children is illegal.”

“Ha! Ha! Ha!”

She laughs loudly, and everyone in the restaurant turns to look. When she stops, they go back to their meals. She holds a stare at him and smirks.

“Not if you’re a big baby.”

He understands now; you can tell by his expression. He tries to be the adult and doesn’t want to say anything that will spark more juvenile behavior. It’s a plan that doesn’t necessarily work out in his favor.

“Can we enjoy our dinner, please?”

She leans her elbows on the table and picks up a cherry tomato with her fingers. She bites it in half and chews with her mouth open.

“Very attractive,” he says, cutting his steak again.

“Don’t be square. It doesn’t fit you.”

“How would you know?”

“I’m not just a pretty face.”

“You got that right.”

“I know a lot about you already.”

“How so?”

“Intuition. You seem like the kind of guy who falls asleep on the couch watching the evening news. You likely snore loud enough to keep others awake. You probably don’t replace the toilet paper roll either and leave a new one sitting on the dispenser. And I get the feeling you leave the seat up.”

“Is that right? You gathered all that from my appearance?”

She shrugs her shoulders and eats the other half of her tomato.

Swallowing his beef, he leans in closer.

“Let me tell you what I think.”

Her eyes pop wide. She pauses her chewing.

“You can do that?”

“Funny.”

She chuckles as the man elaborates.

“Your husband probably thought you were a bad lay. He may have had more fun poking a pound of hamburger meat. It’s no wonder he didn’t want to have any children. I’ll bet he didn’t want to be responsible for burdening the planet with your spawn.”

The harsh words he speaks only fuel the woman’s response. She grins and digs in her bowl for a slice of cucumber.

“No woman wants a man like you.”

“No man wants a woman who looks like a slut.”

“No woman wants a lazy man who is late.”

“No man wants a high-maintenance rag telling him what to do.”

Her face goes straight, and she stands from her chair.

“I’d rather sleep with your friends.”

He scoots his chair back and rises to his feet.

“I’d rather bang your sister.”

She takes another sip of her Merlot and throws the rest in his face. The maroon insult drips from his chin and stains his white shirt. Now everyone in the room is watching.

“You’re repulsive.”

He wipes the wine from his eyes. He picks up a glob of mashed potatoes and throws it across the table. It lands on her cleavage.

“You bore me.”

She steps around the table.

“Your feet stink.”

He does the same, and now they face off like enemies ready for battle.

“You wear too much makeup.”

She moves closer.

“You’re a petty excuse for a lover.”

He moves closer too. Their faces are an inch apart.

“I could find a better woman in a dictionary.”

She licks her lips and breathes heavily through her mouth.

“You make every day miserable.”

He gazes into her eyes.

“You make puppies sad.”

Her eyes close, and she drags her fingertips down the breast of his jacket.

“My friends think I’m crazy for going out with you. That’s why I lied to them and said I’m using you for your money, even though you don’t have any.”

His hands wrap the sides of her waist, and he pulls her close.

“I’m surprised you have any friends.”

The server wants to ask them if they are enjoying their meals, but instead, he stands away, watching the couple smash their faces together. The woman throws her arms over his shoulders, and he slides his hand down her back. Their tongues wrestle, then they pull apart.

She slaps a hand across his face hard enough to leave a mark.

“You make me want to puke.”

He grips her hair and yanks it back. With her jerking head, she moans. He licks her neck.

“You make me want to kill myself.”

She breathes heavily with lustful hormones raging through her blood.

“Take me to your crappy home.”

He wants to throw her down on the table.

“Do I have to?”

More kissing. More moaning. You would think the restaurant manager would come out to break this up, as the couple’s sexual desire is disturbing other guests, but you would be wrong. Watching is too entertaining.

She kisses her date as though she’s trying to taste the steak in his stomach.

“We should have…” She breaks apart her sentence by sucking his lips. “Done this…before we got married.”

He tries to respond, fighting the urge to tear off her dress.

“A first date? No way.”

“Why not?”

“I never would have called you again.”

She moans again, louder this time. She wants to unfasten his buckle and get down on her knees, but she knows there are too many people watching.

“That’s okay. I would have forgotten about you.”

With their hands rubbing and petting each other’s bodies, they continue making out and head toward the exit. No one seems to care that they leave without paying the bill.

As they near the door, the man says, “I want to make love to you while I imagine someone else.”

It’s hard to distinguish over the rumble of conversations among other guests, but the woman says, “I think I have a few seconds to spare.”