Merlot Charming

Her palms were sweating slightly, she grimaced as she lifted her arms to allow the air under them. She was sweating there too. At least there was a breeze on the patio. The breeze, which offered a brief reprieve from the sticky humidity helped cool her, but it certainly wasn’t doing her long chestnut hair any favors. Her curls were falling already, she reached up to smooth and reshape them with her fingers. What a disaster, he would be here any second and she was deteriorating like an Alka-Seltzer tablet in soda water. She looked down at her sleek watch, 8:12. Or maybe he wouldn’t be. She hadn’t realized how late he was. Only self-absorbed or immature men are late on a first date, so this would be yet, another waste of time and effort. Why did she keep putting herself through this? Why, for the love of all things good, didn’t she just stay home in sweats, get a cat or two and settle for herself. Why not just be person who wouldn’t be repeatedly tortured with unfortunate experience after unfortunate experience? Blind dates were so stupid. Hours of time spent to style her hair, her nails, to shave, to artfully draw on her face, to pour herself into uncomfortable under-garments, and shove her feet into murderous shoes.

Why did she let her friends talk her into this, again? They’re all married, they have no idea what it is like to date now. She already knew he would show up in an over laundered golf shirt with a curled up collar, cheap cologne and boat shoes, at best. This was always the type her friends sent her, sloppy man-boys. Sure, they were often physically attractive, but looks only account for so much. He needed to be insightful, intuitive, and intelligent. He needed to be able to carry on a conversation. In all her efforts, she still had not found one that fit the bill. Yet, the hope that one day she would find a partner loomed over her and she felt compelled to continue in her struggle. She tugged at her royal blue dress, it was form fitting and complimented her curvy figure. This was the most she had been dressed up in ages, and she was uncomfortable. She wished they had selected a brewery or more casual restaurant so she might have worn something more comfortable. At least the balcony was nice, the large open pergola supported green vines with blooming white flowers that hung wistfully as if they longed to touch her. The darkening sky peeked curiously through the slats. She fidgeted with the cloth napkin that had been folded cleverly on her plate and blotted the sweat that was beading beneath her dark eyes.

“Miss, can I get you anything while you wait?” a tall thin man with a bow-tie and perfect teeth asked politely. “Ermm, the wine list, please?” she responded. “Yes, ma’am” he said as he turned swiftly to retrieve it for her. A moment later he returned to hand her the pearly-white leather menu, “Here you are ma’am”. “Thank you”, she responded with a courteous nod. With each passing moment, she was becoming ever more concerned that she was going to be stood-up, that she would be forced to leave her table and walk past all the other patrons, receiving the anticipated looks of pity. Her body felt tense and anxious. How pathetic was she? She would not be doing this again, this was it for her. A glass of wine would take the edge off at least. She opened the menu to scan it. So many choices. Maybe she should just sit here in this lovely place and have a bottle to herself? It was 8:17 and she was now certain this date would not be coming. She might as well use this time to start her acceptance of the single life with a glorious date with just herself. She would drink her wine and enjoy the breeze, now, without caring that it wrecked her hair. She would order her food to go and take it home to eat on the couch with the ever dependable Netflix as her company. She would commit to this new life and get herself a cat companion tomorrow. She finally made her selection and looked around for her lanky waiter to return.

Shortly he returned from the bar with a glass in hand, she was preparing to make her request when he placed it in front of her “The California Merlot, ma’am”. He stated. She looked at him, with a look of confusion “But I haven’t order...” she started. “It appears your date had a talk with the bar and selected your beverage ma’am”. How did he know what she was going to order? She wondered. “Thank you...” she responded pensively. “Do you think he might be joining me?” she asked as the confusion turned to annoyance. Why hadn’t this date of hers just come to the table like a normal person? “He called and sent it ahead, to apologize for his tardiness”. Well, this was different, she thought as she smelled the fragrant bouquet.

As she was nearly finished with her glass, a tall blonde man in a sleek brushed charcoal suit approached from the direction of the bar. He was very attractive with well-kept facial hair and stunning blue eyes. He might have stepped right of the cover of GQ. He might have been here for someone else but she hoped he was coming to her. As he got closer she realized that there was no one at the tables next to her and he was indeed her date. “Sorry I am late, dear” he stated in an accented velvet tone. What was that? Scottish? He approached her side and bent to take her hand in his, he kissed the back of it. On the inside, she melted like butter on a hot plate. He sat across from her “I am late, I know, it is rather wretched of me to leave you here waiting. I ran into an old friend, and I mean that, literally, with my car. I hope you’ll forgive me”. Stunned by his beauty, she regretted having allowed hers to depreciate for the one moment she had decided this was a date with herself. He wasn’t like the others, he had sent her the Merlot before he had even arrived, how did he know her taste? A stroke of pure dumb luck most likely.

He sat across from her and she straitened herself in her chair. “Darling,” he prompted and she realized she hadn’t yet said a word to him. She had been so entirely immersed in her own internal monologue that she had forgotten to speak out loud. “It’s nice to meet you” she croaked. He responded with a grin. She sipped her wine and tried to clear her throat. “Would you like a charcuterie?” he asked as he peered at her from over his menu. She nodded in response. He waved the waiter over and ordered another beverage for her as well.

The wine had swiftly freed her from her concerns. A meal of blackened Mahi and a shared chocolate truffle later, she had totally forgotten about tugging at her dress or smoothing her hair. They danced to the rooftop jazz band. The humid air and light breeze had become a comfortable combination, even if it wasn’t a friend to her appearance. She was enjoying him so much she forgot to care about maintaining herself. Maybe she would regret it later when she had the opportunity to catch a glimpse of her reflection but for now, she was having fun, and he seemed to be too. Wasn’t this what dates should be like? As the song ended his spun her into a dip and kissed her softly on the cheek. His touch was electric and somehow also familiar. He was a dream. One thing was for sure, she would no longer be planning on acquiring a cat tomorrow.