Stuck-Up Suit

After work, I made an extra effort to look nice hoping it would change my mood. I slipped into some tight jeans and a bright purple shirt that showed off my abundance of cleavage. Adding a sexy pair of strappy, black-studded sandals, I looked in the mirror. I looked damn good. Screw you, Graham Morgan who didn’t think I was worth a second glance.

Living in Brooklyn, I usually met my dates wherever we were going. Public transportation wasn’t exactly conducive to picking people up, which worked for me since I wasn’t particularly fond of giving virtual strangers my address. But Aspen planned to take me somewhere out on Long Island, so he had picked me up.

“I hope you don’t mind. I just need to make a quick stop.”

“Sure, no problem.”

Unlike when we had met at the party, the car ride was filled with awkward conversation. I had to ask questions to keep the conversation going.

“So where are we headed? You mentioned a club.”

“It’s a comedy club. I don’t go on until nine.”

“You’re performing?”

“Yeah.” He shrugged. “Figured two birds, one stone.”

Something about his response bothered me. It implied our date was a task. But I tried to make the best of it. It had been a long time since I went to a comedy club, and maybe he was trying to show off to me. When my phone buzzed in my bag, I peeked to see who it was. I hated to admit it, but part of me wanted it to be Graham.

Aspen pulled into the lot and parked. “I’ll just be a few minutes.”

He was leaving me in the car? “Where are we?” I looked around in the darkness. There was a 7-Eleven to the left and White’s Funeral Home to the right.

“I have to stop in at White’s. My aunt died.”

“Your aunt died?”

“Yeah. I’ll just be ten minutes.” He started to get out. “Unless you want to come in with me?”

“Umm…I’ll just wait here.”

What the hell?

I sat there dumbfounded in the parking lot. He was essentially taking me to his aunt’s funeral then to work. When my phone buzzed again, I figured I could use the distraction.

Graham: How’s your tongue?

Soraya: Better. The swelling has gone down.

Graham: I’ve been worried about it all day.

Soraya: Is that so?

I smiled. My conversation with the gorgeous perv might be the highlight of my date with Aspen.

Graham: What are you doing right now, Soraya?

I heard his sexy voice rasp the question in my ear as I read his text. The hair on my arms stood up. My body had it bad for this man, regardless of what my brain said.

Soraya: I’m on a date, actually.

My phone went quiet for a long time. I started to think that was that. But then it vibrated again.

Graham: Is it safe to assume it isn’t going well since you’re texting during it?

Soraya: That would be a safe assumption.

Graham: What’s his name?

Soraya: Why do you want to know?

Graham: So I have a name to put with the man I suddenly dislike.

Again I was smiling at the damn phone.

Soraya: Aspen.

Graham: He’s an idiot.

Soraya: And you know that because of his name?

Graham: No. I know that because you’re texting another man during his date.

Soraya: I suppose if I were with you, I wouldn’t be texting.

Graham: If you were with me, you wouldn’t care where your cell phone was.

Soraya: Is that so?

Graham: It most certainly is.

Oddly, I tended to agree with him. I sighed and decided to share the details of my pitiful date.

Soraya: He took me to a funeral.

Graham: For your date?

Soraya: Yep.

Graham: I hope you’re texting me as you walk to the closest train.

Soraya: The funeral is out on Long Island. I’m kind of stuck with him for the rest of the date.

Graham: There’s more than just a funeral?

Soraya: Yes. He’s taking me to work next.

Graham: Come again?

Soraya: LOL

Graham: Where are you? I’ll come get you.

Was that…nice from Mr. Big Prick?

Soraya: Thanks. But I’m good.

He stopped texting after that. Worse, Aspen returned to the car. Things got progressively worse from there. Upon arriving at the comedy club, my date proceeded to down two vodka tonics. When I mentioned he was driving us home, he told me he knew his limit. Apparently, he didn’t know mine. Three minutes after he got on stage and told his first few bad jokes, I took a trip to the ladies room, then slipped out the back door. Eleven dollars in cab fare later, I was waiting for the first of what would be three trains to get back home. Maybe I needed to take a hiatus from dating for a while.