First Date Fail

(Based on last night. No hard feelings for Mr. Date)

In a small, dark, dive bar, the
bartender makes me
a negroni. I sip.
And wait.

He arrives in a fluster.
I stand, he
turns- No hug, no touch. So I
sit, he perches: Nervous, or alert?

We talk. He asks, I respond. I gain
momentum, expressing
myself strongly, this
is my passion, it’s
important it is
life and truth and-
Wham.
He changes
subject. “That’s not appropriate
first date fodder.”
Oh.

So we talk. I question, he
rambles, I nod. Do we want
another drink? No, let’s go- that band is playing soon.

We walk, with space between us,
no tension, just empty
boredom- up the blocks, I focus on avoiding
sidewalk cracks.

He pays the cover fee, but I opt out-
like I’m choosing
a TSA pat-down
over possible radiation exposure,
except this option involves much less
fondling.

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2 thoughts on “First Date Fail

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