Awkward Adventures in Dating

by Elsa Kurt

  6 DICK.ISH.NESS

  Chapter Five in The Smart Woman’s Guide To Dating . We tend to gravitate to what we know, but guard yourself. Don’t fall into a repeat of your former relationship… remember, it didn’t work out for a reason, so don’t duplicate when choosing your next date.

  “Hello. Keira?”

  It was like déjà vu. Keira was once again sitting solo at a small table outside at a restaurant, waiting for her MateMatch date to arrive. This time, though, it was at a local, upscale place called Max’s, and she was sipping Pinot Grigio instead of Pinot Noir, and people watching rather than ocean viewing when Troy entered rather than Jason. Again, she’d arrived first, and again she was texting with Molly. However, this time, she did not throw her phone at a man’s… dick.

  “Troy. Hi, nice to meet you.”

  “May I say, you’re even prettier in person, Keira.”

  MateMatch 101 again.

  She opened her mouth to respond, but he pivoted from her and raised his arm, wagged his fingers in a ‘come here’ motion at the nearest waiter.

  “Oh, he’s not our—” she said.

  “Yes, Pierre, bring us the Spottswoode Cabernet. Bottle, of course. Also, a charcuterie for the table. Thank you.”

  If Pierre was at all fazed by Troy’s commands, he gave no sign, but merely nodded and walked away hurriedly to fulfill the order. Keira took a moment to assess his looks in person. Tall as he claimed to be, an impressive six-foot, three inches. His hair was a chestnut brown, thin on top, and combed over, but not unforgivably so. He dressed impeccably— blazer, with a pocket square, no less, over a button down French blue shirt, paired with dark jeans. He looked like what she imagined being Hamptons casual. By comparison, she was a little self-conscious in her department store clearance dress, even though it was perfectly fine.

  “Well, I take it you come here often?”

  “Pardon me, yes, I do in fact. The owner, Charles, is a dear friend. Just a moment.”

  He motioned for yet another waiter, who stopped what he was doing and hurried over to their table.

  “Is Charles here today? If so, tell him Mr. Peirson is here with a guest.”

  The waiter nodded and disappeared. Keira was unsure how to take any of this. On the one hand, his sophistication impressed her. She’d never even used the word ‘charcuterie’ or ordered a bottle of wine without looking at the price first. However, arrogance and snobbery were also apparent.

  “Well, now that’s all settled, we can begin. So, Keira. Tell me about yourself.”

  Keira stammered a moment, surprised by his directness. She had to remind herself that, for one, she didn't like him very much, and two, she didn’t care one bit if this man liked her or not, so she relaxed and gave him her condensed story. To his credit, he behaved as if fascinated. Perhaps too much, even. She was ready to divert the attention back to him.

  “So, enough about me, tell me about you, Troy.”

  And he did. For nearly forty minutes. And since he peppered the monologue with rhetorical questions, Keira answered them only in her head. The highlights were…

  “My house—you should really come and see it, it’s pret-ty incredible. It overlooks three counties, you know. (Um, no, Troy, I didn’t) I hope you have a palate for fine wine because my wine cellar houses some of the finest in the world. (Sure, if it’s under twenty dollars, or you’re buying) Do you like art? (My kids draw a great giraffe and princess) My collection of contemporary work is impressive, I must say…”

  On he babbled. She still didn’t have a clue what he did for a living, other than it involved investments. What she did know, was that he liked to brag, he was conceited, somewhat condescending to waitstaff (a no-no in her book) and not to mention he liked to order food and drink without consulting his date. What if she had a food allergy or something? Basically, he was kind of a douche. This would be a first and last meeting, Keira was sure.

  Right as she thought those words, he suddenly stopped, grabbed her hand and said, “Keira, I apologize. I sound like a complete jerk, don’t I? Wait— don’t answer that. I do. Truthfully? I’m nervous. The last few dates, well, they weren’t exactly what they claimed to be— in looks or, or, or anything, and you… well, you are even better in person, and I’m, well…”

  Huh. Well, go figure. And like that, Troy was back in the game. When he excused himself to go to the men’s room, Keira texted Molly.

  Okay, so is it weird that I

  kind of think he’s a dick,

  AND kind of like him?

  A moment later…

  Based on your track record,

  I’d say that about fits. Dickishness

  is your go to.

  Keira gave her phone a dirty look. Touché, Molly. Touché.

  Troy returned to the table with a smiling, big-bellied man. His bright green blazer caused several inquisitive eyes to turn, but he was oblivious or enjoying the attention.

  “You must be Keira, my love.”

  “Keira, meet Charles, he owns Max’s. Easy, now Charles, don’t suffocate the woman.”

  Keira hated having someone stand over her at a table, so she stood to say hello. Somehow, she lost her balance and tipped forward, toward Charles. Whether by chance or by chivalry, Charles took that as an invitation to envelope her in what she could only call a bear hug.

  “Oh, my. Well, it’s nice to meet you, Charles.”

  “Troy, my friend, you must bring this one back again. I insist. My lovely, please say you’ll come back again with Troy.”

  She expected Troy to deflect on her behalf, but he bobbed his head with enthusiasm. Well, nothing like being put on the spot.

  “I— yes, of course. I’d be happy to.”

  “Brava, my dear, brava. You heard the woman, everyone. I’m off now, enjoy the evening, you two lovebirds.”

  What in the hell was happening here? Lovebirds? Oh, my.

  “Ah, well, now you’ve committed in the presence of an entire restaurant and its owner, Keira. Say you’ll see me again?”

  “Yes,” Keira couldn’t help giggling, “yes, I will see you again.”

  “Excellent. How about my place, Sunday? I’m throwing a small dinner party, catered, of course.”

  What was with these guys? Two for two pushing for a second date. Great ego boost, but not quite what she’d envisioned. Were they all like this? She could hear Molly’s voice in her head saying, ‘Hey, Gullible Barbie, don’t even think about going to this guy’s house. Remember, he may have a wine cellar OR a dungeon.’ She also checked herself on the ego boost. They wanted to get laid, plain and simple.

  “That sounds nice, Troy, but I’m afraid I’ve already made plans for Sunday, sorry.”

  She could swear she saw a flicker of annoyance cross his face. Perhaps he was not accustomed to being told no? Despite how quickly he recovered his pleasant tone, Keira raised another red flag in her mind. She would give him another chance, as she was with Jason, but Molly’s MateMatch Dating Rules would still apply.

  “No worries, short notice, I suppose.”

  She was compelled to soften her ‘no’ with a counter offer.

  “My girls are going away in about a week, I’ll have more availability if you’d like to get together then?”

  “That would be great. For a moment I thought you were trying to get rid of me, Keira. Can I tell you something?” He didn’t wait for her response. “I think we have a real connection. Don’t you?”

  Bloody hell. Talk about being put on the spot. Again.

  “Oh, well, this has been… quite an evening, hasn’t it? I um, have an early morning, so I’m afraid I’ll have to call it a night. But thank you, Troy.”

  “Oh. Yes, me too,. I’m flying out to San Fran for a meeting, but I’ll call you when I return. Come, I’ll walk you to your car.”

  “Oh, thank you, but no need. I’m all set.”

  All the spots in front of the restaurant had been full when she’d arrived, and she had to park in the lot across
the street.

  “Please, I insist. It’s getting dark, and no gentleman lets a lady walk to her car alone.”

  “I appreciate it, I really do. But I—”

  “Are you afraid to walk alone with me to your car, Keira?”

  “Well, afraid is such a strong word, Troy. Let’s call it… caution. Nothing personal, I hope you understand.”

  Though he said he understood, Troy’s lips came together in a grim line and he stood stiff. Yet another red flag. Nonetheless, he remained seated at the table while Keira left, making her feel both relieved and uncomfortable at the same time. Once in her car, doors locked, she called Molly.

  “Okay, so that was so weird and all over the place.”

  “Tell, tell, my little bubble breaker.”

  “I honestly don’t even know. He was a jerk, but then he was sweet. He’s arrogant, but wow, he is so worldly—”

  “Keira, honey, I’m worldly compared to you. But go on.”

  “You’ve been to Europe. Once, twenty years ago. Shut up. Anyhow, so he introduced me to the owner of Max’s, and he’s crazy. Oh, and he ordered the most expensive wine on the list. Actually, it wasn’t even on the list. He insisted on paying for everything, too. Thank God because I saw the bill— it was over two hundred dollars, before the tip. And, it was only wine and appetizers. Can you believe it?”

  “Wow, nice. So, upside— he’s rich. Downside— he’s a dick?”

  “I wouldn’t totally call him a dick. Just... dick-ish. Yet, interesting. Oh and did I mention— he invited me to a dinner party at his house Sunday but—”

  “Oh, don’t even—”

  “But I declined, thank you. I have a date with Jason that night, so there.”

  “Well, thank God for Yacht Boy. Keep playing the field, sunshine. Sounds like you better keep Mr. Money Bags at bay. Get a few more meals and expensive wine out of him before you kick him to the curb though.”

  “Molly.”

  “What. I’m just sayin’. Jeez. Anyhow, it’s my turn. Drum roll please…”

  “Ooh, you’ve accepted another MateMatch date?”

  “Yes, now give me my drum roll.”

  Keira made her best ‘bu-duh-duh-duh-duh’ sound through the speaker until Molly announced,

  “Harley number three.”

  Keira tried to remember which one he was, but Molly spared her the effort.

  “Joe. Forty-one, six-one, three times divorced, really hot…”

  “…Harley.”

  “Yup, that one. I figured what the hell, if you’re going two for two, I might as well, too.”

  “Good. This one has to go better than the last. Hey, so do you think Eric is dating, too?”

  “Eric? No, I know for a fact he isn’t.”

  “Really? He told you that?”

  “No, he told my mother. Turns out they’ve been talking every time he drops the girls off, and they both think we’re gonna get back together someday. Can you believe those two?”

  “Wow. So, Eric isn’t giving up, huh? Wonder what his mother has to say about that. She can’t be pleased.

  “Oh, I doubt he’s told her that. He probably hands her the stick pins for the voodoo doll she made of me and says, ‘yes, Mommy, Molly is the devil’s spawn. Here’s another needle, Mommy,’ or something like that. He couldn’t stand up to her when we were together, so why would he now?”

  Keira found the tone in Molly’s voice very interesting as she talked about Eric, and not for the first time either. Underneath the ‘who gives a shit’ exterior, there was something akin to wistfulness.

  “Molly?”

  “What, Keira.”

  “Now, don’t get all huffy on me. It’s just a question.”

  “Yeah, and I answered it the last time you asked me, ‘No, I do not want Eric back.’ Happy?”

  “Well, it’s not about my happiness, it’s about your happiness. What if— humor me now— what if Eric stood up to his mother? Would that make it different?”

  “It doesn’t matter, Keira, it will never happen. Eric had his chance, and he blew it. Can we change the subject please?”

  Keira sighed and gave in as she pulled into her driveway, changing the subject as requested.

  “Well, how about this for a subject change. You Know Who is across the street at the Lawsons. He’s sitting outside on their porch drinking a beer and wearing those heinous denim shorts. I would like to punch him in the throat. Is that wrong?”

  “Oh, my fricking God. Are you serious? Call the cops, Keira.”

  “For what? He’s not doing anything, and he’s working over there. I haven’t heard a thing from him lately. Well, not until my stupid smartphone called him, that is. So, basically, I’ve got nothing. Whatever, don’t even worry about it. Keep talking to me until he goes back inside. I don’t want to give him a chance to say hello.”

  Molly huffed and puffed a bit more. Then they talked about getting the girls all together before Violet and Lola left for Florida, Molly’s classes, and Keira’s latest article as Keira shot glances up at her rearview mirror at the pathetic figure on the step across the street. Finally, No Name stood and walked back into the house, so they said their goodbyes. Keira turned off the ignition but didn’t climb out of the car immediately. Instead, she sat back, letting her hands fall on her lap, and studied her front porch as if seeing it for the first time.

  What did other people think when they looked at the long porch drenched in cascading flowers and variegated ivy? Did they look at the wide, weathered stairs lined with potted strawberries, rosemary, and basil and see the love and peacefulness she did? Did the white wicker sofa with its blue striped, thick cushions make them want to climb those stairs, sit down, put their feet up on her orange flea market coffee table, and wait for a glass of iced tea to be brought out to them? She hoped so.

  When she’d shared this house with Darren, his influence and very little of hers determined its decor and design. Showroom furniture sets, China from a department store, and brand name everything inside the house. Everything outside was much the same. He hated plants and flowers near the house, insisting it would attract insects, so instead, he had a landscaper plant three ornamental shrubs and use rock rather than mulch around it. Keira hated the stones and the dull, character-less landscaping, but never had the energy to fight him on it. Instead, she placed her focus on her small, ten-by-ten plot in the backyard where she planted her flowers and vegetables and tried to be content.

  The week they finalized the divorce she began the whole house transformation, inside and out. She had one, very fun, perfectly brief fling, changed all accounts, bills, and driver’s license, and was starting to get the hang of adulting on her own. The excitement was wearing off, and the reality was sinking in. Then, she met He Whose Name Shall Not Be Spoken…

  Really? We’re doing this? Oh, very well. If we must. Let’s get the whole bloody thing out there, yes?

  She’d only been divorced a few months, her newfound independence was shaky and tentative, Darren was behaving like a wretch, and simply put, she was weak. She met Nameless during her Culinary Course Barbie phase. When a group from her class invited her along to a local karaoke bar after their Thursday night class, she joined them. He was shy and reserved, a commission painter who did odd jobs for extra money, with a quiet voice that belied his stature and build. He was the opposite of Darren in every visible way. A head of blond, unruly hair, pale lashed brown eyes and a ruddy complexion, whereas Darren wore his ink-black hair slicked back and immovable, and his cobalt blue eyes were set in a perfectly square, Superman-esque chiseled face. As far as mannerisms and personality, No Name was soft-spoken and almost painfully shy, where Darren was loud, gregariousness.

  They talked at the bar initially, away from the crowd, then on the phone, and before she’d even realized it was happening, they were dating. In a matter of weeks, he’d eked into her life with his sweet words and ardent affection, wanting (so it seemed) only to please her and take care of her. But
she’d allowed him to take over her, too. Before long he was practically living in her house.

  His methods, she consoled herself, were much subtler and almost innocuous compared to Darren’s. Instead of criticizing and demeaning everything she did and anything she wanted to do, he did it all for her. Want new siding? Done. Thinking about painting the porch? Surprise, done. Excited to dig up all the old shrubs and planting new? Guess what? Done. Don’t want to work? Stay home. Before long, she was kept woman again, just in a much larger cage. While Darren controlled her by attacking her insecurities with words, No Name fed them with helpfulness. All he wanted was her… and her undying gratitude.

  It was no one’s fault but her own, though. She had done what she always did. She imagined him to be something he wasn’t and made excuses for how he was. That he never attended any parties, get-togethers or events, meant to her he was timid. That he was awkward and uncomfortable with the kids, suggested they merely needed time to get to know each other. He was a gifted, talented painter, but let everyone take obvious advantage of him, so that meant he was too kind. And, finally, that he wanted to make her the center of his universe, meant that it was love.

  Keira had almost trapped herself in his web of passive control, but his constant need for validation and inability to stand up for himself made her lose respect for him, and he wore on her nerves. She pulled away, entering her ghosting phase. Keira readily admitted that her methods of retraction were childish and the epitome of confrontation evading. She avoided him and hoped he’d take the hint and go away like Rock Band had, but he was (as Molly coined him) a Clinger.

  Which is where Long Hair came in. He was in the peripheral already as a chef’s assistant at the culinary school and in an early source of amusement post-divorce. The man was not particularly good-looking, nor was he fascinating. He merely had long, silky brown hair and puppy brown eyes, and she liked that she made him nervous. So, she slept with him. He was pale, doughy, and his member was startlingly small, but he claimed what he lacked in size he made up in skill. He did not. It was brief and regrettable, but not for the reasons it should have been. The only thing she had guilt about, was not feeling guilty. Keira was a terrible person. She needed to break things off with Nameless, but she couldn’t seem to find the nerve. Unfortunately, her lack of discretion and No Name’s suspicions caught her out. As in literally.