Elena
Ava Reggiano’s is one of the nicest restaurants I’ve been to in a long time. The glass of white wine my date orders for me is a nice touch, and I smile at him. “Darius,” I say, taking a tiny sip. “You just don’t know how crazy work has been for me lately! So glad we could have dinner tonight. How are you doing?”
Darius leans forward. “I’ve been kicking ass. Some people just can’t keep up with high intensity, I guess.”
He’s very attractive—strong jawline and golden hair that makes him look like he might actually be prettier than me. And that’s no knock on me, I just think he’s got way better hair than my straight brown hair. I mean, I’m working with a pretty damn good hourglass figure, don’t get me wrong.
I just tend to forget that I have anything going on because my upcoming divorce—and sexless marriage—have left me feeling stale.
And that little line, sure, it seemed like a jab, but I just let my eyes widen over another sip of wine. “Yeah, my boss, Gerri, she’s been a real life-saver. With this promotion I got, I’ve really been dealing with an even more demanding workload. I guess you enjoy a challenge at work? I do.” I’m trying to be polite and deflect what he said. Sorta cringing at how I seem to have nothing but work to talk about, but I’m focused on work and school so much that I don’t really have much in the way of hobbies or a social life.
I’m sure plenty of well-adjusted people with full lives in all aspects use dating apps. Me? I’m trying to make up for the lost time. Like, part of me thinks I married Barry because I thought I had found a charming guy and figured it all out. Wrong.
Mr. Charmer, number two, Darius, looks at me for several long seconds and replies back with this gem. “Well—” he rolls his eyes “—you don’t have to try to impress me, I have plenty of my own money. I mean, when you picked this restaurant, that’s what you wanted to know, right?”
“Darius, I picked this restaurant because you said you like Italian food, and this place has good reviews,” I say, attempting to hold back the instantly bitchy comments. “But why don’t we talk about something other than work. You like golfing, right?” I’m trying here, ladies, I really am.
Darius chuckles. A loud guffaw that makes other people look at our table. “You golf?”
“I haven’t tried it, but it seems like it could be relaxing,” I offer.
“Garçon!” Darius snaps at someone else’s waiter going by, not waiting for the waitress assigned to our table that dropped off my wine and his water. “She’ll have a cobb salad, and I’ll have a chicken parmigiana. Extra wine!”
“I don’t need any more wine, thanks,” I say to the waiter. “And I’d like your scallop fettucine alfredo, please,” I say. I didn’t come here to get pushed around, or to eat a thirty-dollar cobb salad with some pushy asshole.
To his credit, Darius says nothing...though his mouth hangs open a little bit and his eyes turn to slits for a second when he looks at me.
The rest of the dinner isn’t much better than this. I don’t drink more of my wine because I’m keeping my cool. Plus, I have an early day tomorrow. Kinda the perfect ending to an absolute garbage date.
“Thank you for a delicious dinner,” I say when we’ve both finished our meals. I hand the waitress my card before he can reach for his wallet. “I have an early morning meeting and I want to put a few more things in the slide deck for my presentation, so I think I need to call it a night.”
The waitress returns quickly with my card, as she knows just how poorly this date has been going. I tip, sign, and reach for my purse, but as I go to stand, I feel the grip of Darius’s fingers on my forearm.
“I’m not done with you,” Darius says, his hand literally pushing my arm to keep me seated.
Okay, hold the fuck up! I smack his arm away. His rudeness during the date—toward me, the waiter, and the waitress—already has me at my wit’s end. But this is beyond the pale, and I’m going to smack him if he doesn’t check himself. “I said that I have to go in early, so have some grace and let’s end this date on a better note than how the rest of it went.” I keep a terse smile on my face.
When you’re on date, you get those clues that things might not go well. Do we expect a dating app to bring us prince charming? Like, duh, of course not.
Still, we don’t expect a petty man child to make us bring out our inner bitch. But sometimes you gotta, because how else are we going to get the results we need when a man thinks it is his job to correct you and exert his will?
“Wow, okay, so how many guys you think want sloppy seconds?” Darius puts his hands up in the air and acts like he doesn’t care.
I stand, not wanting to say anything because what’s the point, right?
“You’ll be sorry. No one walks away from me!” Darius spits that one loudly in my direction, even though this is the sort of restaurant where you need a reservation and where you expect actual grown, mature adults to dine.
Not the petulant man-boy who decided to use my current separation status that I disclosed to him against me like he was flinging dirt at me. I swear, this jackass and Barry, the soon-to-be-ex-husband, are the last two people on earth that are up in arms about divorce.
At least Barry’s got his religious convictions as his reason for objecting. I can respect that he doesn’t want to do something he sees as sin. We rushed into marriage...that wasn’t the only thing that blindsided me. I mean, I married a man who didn’t want to have sex with me and treated me like having a career as a personal affront to his work as a preacher.
I don’t even look back when I head out of the restaurant, Ava Reggiano’s, and make a mental note to come here myself and order the lobster ravioli.
The dating scene is frigging terrible.
I finally landed on a pick on a dating app and guess what? Total dud.
Seriously...I know how to pick them.