Gentleman’s First Date

Gentleman by Givenchy or Versace Dylan Blue? DB was vastly superior from a luxury standpoint, in addition to being more expensive. However, the salt-and-pepper fragrance of Gentleman was scientifically proven to attract women – something I needed on this date.  A spritz of Gentleman it was then, first on the wrist and then my neck. It stung me just above my Adam’s apple – the perfectly parabolic line of my beard where I hadn’t yet applied aftershave balm. I checked my Rolex. Exactly twenty minutes had passed since I’d stepped out of the shower: perfect timing to do my hair. My dark hair was incurably straight and hung down my face, so I made sure to apply a generous coating of hair gel and pomade to keep it maintained. With the part forming exactly where the curvature on my head was greatest, I verified the straightness of my hair using a ruler. I checked my watch. It was exactly 8:13. Our reservation at the restaurant was for 8:30 and I intended on being there before she was – this was a gesture of gentlemanly conduct according to the dating coach I’d paid $200 dollars for.

The weather outside was just around 16 degrees – warm for an autumn evening. I could see the changing wavelengths of the sun’s light as each wave ricocheted among dense air particles leaving beautiful oranges and purples of sunset. My vehicle of choice was indeed quite ordinary: how cars were meant to be. A silver 2010 Toyota Camry – ten years old but running perfectly. Not too flashy, but it got the job done perfectly.

My Rolex showed twelve minutes to 8:30. Exactly according to plan. Except it wasn’t. I could see my date just getting out of her car – a flashy Audi A4 if I was correct. I admired her taste in vehicles though it was likely that she had a pretty steep financing plan to be able to afford something like that. We both sold solar panels for a living, and it was a commission-based job. Seeing as she’d made around as many sales as me over the past year, she couldn’t possibly be earning more than I was. I feared for her savings account especially once I saw her with a snake-patterned Gucci bag and what likely was the diamond stud earrings and locket she’d been talking about at work. Fantastically gorgeous, of course, she commanded attention and influence far greater than her barely five-foot frame. Frantically, I exited my vehicle.

“Leah! You’re early!” She likely hadn’t yet seen me, for she looked around before her eyes met mine. I hadn’t noticed it earlier, but she wasn’t wearing her glasses that I’d come to fall in love with over the years, though her amber eyes themselves were pleasantly shaped: wide with long lashes and possessing an unexplainable seductiveness. She fished in her handbag for her phone, which she checked for the time.

“8:20, shoot! Ten minutes is nothing for a restaurant like this on a weekend night!” she exclaimed. “And it’s nice to see you outside work for once. Is that a Rolex?” she took my wrist and turned it carefully. Her hand was warm, or perhaps mine was cold.

“Uh yeah, nice to see you also. You like nice,” I tried to say with enthusiasm, but it sounded more insincere than anything. “By which I mean you look stunning today. Like always, not just today,” I hastened to add.

“Yeah, I get it – thanks.” We were now walking towards the entrance of the restaurant, an Italian place I drove by every day but had only visited a few times. I had scouted the place out just a few days earlier, to make sure it had adequate space and menu options. It was dearly expensive, but that was a financial sacrifice I was willing to make.

Just as we reached the front door, it flew wide open, almost striking me as I hadn’t been able to react. A balding man in his chef’s coat stormed out before taking his coat off and flinging it right back through the door. Really, I wondered why he couldn’t have taken it off before he left, but I’m guessing it was an act of anger. As the restaurant staff attempted to follow him, he stuck out his two middle fingers and laughed.

“Tell the boss I’ll be back when I get last week’s pay!” He angrily stepped into a pickup truck parked nearby, before reversing (without doing a shoulder check, may I add) and leaving the lot.

One of the staff came forward to those of us still waiting outside, and one presumably went inside to deal with the loss of their head chef.

“I’m terribly sorry,” he began, “But we suddenly have reached full capacity for tonight.” Leah spoke before me.

“What about our reservation?”

The man sucked his lips in for a second, probably a habit developed from no one ever having told him otherwise. “Well, I can welcome you back whenever you’d like! In fact,” he added as he tore a sheet of paper from his notebook, “next time you’re here, tell them Alex gave you this. You’ll get a meal on us. Once again, I’m terribly sorry.” With this, he left us outside.

“So, what is it, then?” she asked. “We could honestly just stop at Boston Pizza or something.”

“No way,” I said. “You deserve better than soggy crusts and watered-down cokes.” She laughed.

“I’d like to think so. It’s not like we could get a rez for any other restaurant this late. It is LA, after all…” her voice trailed off.

I thought of the options. It was almost totally dark now, and I didn’t fancy sitting around just anywhere. “We could go back to your place if you want. But not in that way, you know? Just like a first date situation.”

“A non-sexual date situation?” I hadn’t expected her to say it like that so bluntly, so I nodded. “I mean, we’d just have to order some more soggy pizza, unless you’re particularly fond of vodka and Vienna sausages.”

I didn’t fancy the idea at all. I did have some eggs at home, a half kilo of rice, marinated chicken legs, and a head of cabbage. Permuting the possible dinners and desserts in my mind was difficult since not everything could be just thrown together. It needed to be classy but homely enough so that she didn’t think I was obsessed with premium food. “We could go back to my flat,” I offered.

She bit her lip, though none of her lipstick showed up on her teeth. It dawned on me that she didn’t tend to apply much makeup at work, though she was caked up tonight. I didn’t quite have a preference, but I felt prideful that she’d spent time in front of the mirror to look nice for me. Then again, it probably was best to keep this thought to myself, since girls always say that they don’t care about enhancing their appearance for the approval of a man. “Sounds good. I’ll get in my car and follow you there.”

==============================

It turned out that I had a lot more in the fridge than I had anticipated. I totally forgot about half of the tiramisu cake that I had sitting in the fridge, as well as a half dozen potatoes. I got to work right away with peeling and chopping potatoes, and when Leah tried to help me, I insisted she have a seat – to which she reluctantly agreed. it wasn’t an act of gender equality or gentlemanly conduct as much as it was just me being wary of another person in my kitchen. What if she didn’t know the correct order of sharpening knives and used the fine slab first? What if she distracted me and I cut my finger? I roasted all the potatoes as I finished the chicken and rice.

“This looks so good!” she exclaimed as I set the potatoes out on the table. I poured myself a glass of water as I sat and waited for the chicken to rest.

“You can eat the potatoes if you want. We still need to wait a few minutes for the chicken.” I saw her politely take a wedge into her plate. “Just one? They’re better than that, I promise,” I said as I stood up and opened my fridge once more, looking for something to drink. While I fiddled with the ice machine, I heard Leah enjoying the potatoes.

“These are amazing!” I glanced over to see her licking the garlic powder off her fingers. I could tell she was a woman of exquisite taste, considering that I knew myself to be a pretty good cook.

“They’re all yours!” I exclaimed as I dug my head back into my fridge. After a few moments of poking around, I noticed the child safety mode was on – meaning that no ice could be dispensed. I mean, personally, I can think of a lot more dangerous things for kids than ice. When I finally turned my head around, I was astonished. I stood up and sat back at the table with my glass of iced water. It was only my second glass of water, but she had finished almost all six of the large russets.

“Sorry,” she said sheepishly. “I just couldn’t help myself. I don’t often get to eat from home since my appetite’s so big. I’ve just never been able to fill my stomach, I guess. I should probably be grateful that I don’t seem to gain any weight, but sometimes I wish I could.” She poured herself a glass of water from the nearby pitcher and polished it off in a few chugs. I stood up to get the chicken and rice which I set on the table before her. She took a glance up before piling it high onto her plate.

It was truly amazing how she could eat so much and look as though she’d been dieting and working out for years. I watched in awe as she shoveled chicken and rice into her mouth – it seemed to be a violation to even try and take a piece for myself. The food almost seemed to be backing up in her throat: a bolus of masticated grain and protein impossibly large through her esophagus somehow kept pace. Oddly though, this wasn’t unattractive – rather it was incredibly intriguing. I felt like I was seeing some side of her that most others never would’ve known: some special experience that was beyond a first date. Maybe things hadn’t gone to plan, but maybe that was for the best.

“I just noticed,” she began after finishing two portions of rice and two chicken legs, “Your hair’s been up this whole time. what’s your secret?”

“Well, I use the strongest hair gel I can find since my hair is so thick-” I stopped as she reached her small hand out and ran it through my hair, I could feel her ruining the perfectly adhered structure of my dark strands.

“You’re right,” she said after pulling her fingers from my head. “My hair’s really fragile, I should probably do something about that.”

“I mean,” I explained, “The breadth of the average head hair is around 20 to 180 micrometers. Mine is right around the 140 mark, so relatively thick.” She looked as though she wasn’t sure if she should laugh.

“How would you even know that? I didn’t know you were into microscopes,” she said as she laughed uneasily.

“Not actually, I used a diffraction grating. You know those slit-things we learned about in university?”

“I dropped out after the first semester, which is probably why I don’t know about those slit-thingies.”

“You never went to university? How did you get this sales job then?”

“I started off as the receptionist. It’s easy to work your way up when you’re young and your boss stares at you all day. And by the time he got replaced, I was already doing well enough in sales for them to consider replacing me. This was before you came in, obviously.” I’d always thought that I had my job because of my education, so this came as a surprise to me. I didn’t want to talk about work anymore, so I brought us back to the original topic.

“But anyways, a diffraction grating is just a bunch of really small slits in some material that allows light to go through and form its wave properties. If we observe shining a light through a hair, it’ll act as a diffraction grating. Observing this on a screen will let us measure the width of a small object.”

“Interesting.” She didn’t seem interested.

“Sorry, I know I can get nerdy a lot. You don’t have to pretend to be interested,” I laughed sincerely. I meant this too, since I probably wouldn’t be interested in most of the things she was into.

“No, I think it’s pretty cool. I mean, I like science in that sense, but school and me just never worked out.” It was quiet for a second before she spoke again. “Should we get started on dessert?”

“That sounds good,” I replied as I stood up to retrieve the tiramisu from the fridge. I didn’t bother with getting anything else save for two forks since I knew she wouldn’t be opposed to eating the whole thing right out of the box, which was exactly what happened. Although I hadn’t had dinner for the first time in several years, I wasn’t hungry.

Because for the first time, I was quite enjoying having another person with me. I had convinced this beautiful girl to come to my place and talk to me.

And I wanted it this night to be the first time for a lot of other things too. I couldn’t believe that I was 26 and hadn’t done so much. As she swallowed the last bite of her dessert, I knew what I needed to do next.

“Well, that’s dinner – unless you’re still hungry. I could maybe whip up something else if you’d like. We could order something if you want to, also.”

She smiled and looked at me sideways. “What happened to not wanting soggy pizza?” she teased.

“It’s not like I’d eat any of it anyway.” She paused for a minute, considering the option.

“I’d say I’m as full as I’m going to get. But really, you haven’t had anything all night.”

“I mean, there’s one thing I’d like to have tonight.”

“Oh?”

I readied myself. It was all or nothing. “You,” I said. I locked my eyes with hers but she didn’t seem to take me seriously.

“Funny guy.”

“I was being serious,” I added. “I’ve had a great night, and I’m wanting to make it even better.”

She looked down. “I wasn’t really expecting this at all…” her voice trailed off.

“I’ve got an extra toothbrush and things like that,” I offered. It seemed gentlemanly to offer her to stay the night.

She met my eyes finally and spoke. “I didn’t mean it like that. I’ve had a great night too, but I’m just not feeling that kind of way. Especially not after the first date.”

My heart was racing and I began to be filled with some unidentifiable emotion. I had tried to make everything perfect. A perfect reservation, attire, and hair. And yet I could not control the most important part of the date. “I understand,” I said.

“You do? No hard feelings though.” She stood up from the dining table and pushed her chair in. “I should probably get going. But we should do this again sometime.” She walked towards the door but stopped short. “I left my bag on the table.” As she walked towards it I picked it up and held it over my head. I doubted she’d be able to reach it.

“Answer me-” I started before she so rudely interrupted me.

“What are you doing?”

“Don’t interrupt me. I was going to ask you a question.”

“What?” She looked angry, but it was hard to take her seriously.

“You can just come to my house and eat all my food, huh? Oh, and then just leave without anything else.”

“Is this about the food? You said I could eat it.”

“No, it’s about how maybe I deserve something on a date too.” I could feel my anger rising. I needed to take control.

“I don’t owe you anything. Not on the first date, or ever. Now give me my bag back.” I lowered the bag but kept my grip firm. She put her hands on it and tried to take it from me. “You can forget I said anything about a second date. Let go.”

“I don’t think I will,” I said as I ripped her Gucci bag out of her hand and held it from the strap. It was heavier than I had initially noticed. Good. I poised the bag above my head and snapped it across in a flash before she had time to protest. It struck her square in the nose and followed up on her mouth, smudging her lipstick and dropping her to her hands and knees. Her nose bled, but I doubted it was broken.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” she stood up and tried to snatch her bag from my hands. I could feel her pulling it with all her strength, so I pushed back in her direction; sending her tumbling onto the ground. She screamed: a piercing sound that would no doubt be hard to explain to the cops. She tried to get up but I rushed over and pressed the weight of my entire body onto her back. Her legs squirmed and I could feel her trying to bite at my hand which was covering her mouth. I slammed her face into the ground a few more times to make sure her nose was truly broken, before turning to my side and beginning a crucifix choke. I tried to do my best impression of the UFC fighters I’d seen on TV, and she was still before long. I checked my watch. The entire ordeal had lasted less than five minutes.

I’ve heard that dead bodies tend to urinate or defecate upon death, but Leah was perfect even when no longer alive. I folded her small frame and shoved it into the fridge, where I’d worry about it tomorrow. My apartment was a mess, but thankfully none of the blood had gotten into the carpet, so a mop did the job quite nicely. I threw my stained shirt and pants into the wash and got the crimson out of my fingernails. My Rolex , however, was still bloodstained, so I put it beside my nightstand. I’d worry about it soon.

This night began with a fully stocked fridge until she’d come along and eaten it all. But I thought to myself how it was amazing how the food really had been conserved: at least for now it had returned to the fridge. It was then, a fridge that had lost no food. Perfect as all things should be.