Accidental Blind Date #2
Or maybe…maybe it’s the fact that this place is by a rule coupled off, except for the two of us.
We are both alone and lonely and, in a place like this, that fact is like tequila without the training wheels.
It burns and honestly, just fucking sucks.
“Wait,” I say as a man that meets the description comes into view at the door.
Tall, check. Blonde, check. Alone…check.
While the host seats another couple, the man looks around nervously, and I’d put money on it that that’s him.
Then, he sees her.
There is recognition in his expression.
I take another sip of my drink, downing it this time.
Cheers to them, I suppose.
And cheers to me too for once again being the lone wolf in a room full of happy people.
But then I realize, he’s not walking to the table.
She glances in the direction of the front door though her view is blocked by a giant wall of ferns, and when she looks back down at her drink, he leaves.
The guy actually took one look at her, squirmed…and fucking dipped.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” I say out loud just as Madeline walks back behind the bar after serving a table.
“I don’t know what happened, but my bartending Spidey senses tell me it’s time for that third drink.” Then her smile fades. “What? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“I think I did,” I tell her. It’s not untrue. I just watched the girl with the beautiful smile and the hopeful green eyes, and the stunning yellow dress get full blown ghosted. “Hey…did she say what the guy’s name was?”
“What guy?” she asks, fixing me another drink.
“The guy the girl is waiting for.”
“Jax, I think. But I’m telling you. Bro ain’t gonna show. I think I’m going to give her the next drink on the house.”
“I got it,” I say.
Madeline doesn’t say anything. She just makes both the drinks and hands them to me.
I have no idea what’s gotten into me. Bourbon, annoyance with the lack of decency in the world, or maybe the need to stop sulking and make something of the night.
But what I do next is so out of character for me that even I am shocked I’m doing it.
And I do it anyways.
“Sorry I’m late,” I say as I approach the table.
She looks up at me and my fucking God those eyes are even more stunning up close. “I didn’t realize you were here yet and wanted to grab us a drink.”
“Oh,” she says, standing up to face me.
And for the first time tonight, I smile. “Hi. I’m Jax.”
Chapter 1
Libby
Libby- Is it too late to back out of a blind date?
Joni- More like too early! And it’s not a blind date. You know what he looks like.
Libby- Barely. He had one profile picture. And it was black and white, and he wasn’t even facing the camera. And I think I’m gonna puke.
Joni- LOL. You’ll be fine. I have your location and I’m literally right down the street. Just breathe. You know what they say…
Libby- No. I don’t. What do they say?
Joni- The first date after divorce is the hardest. And the best…
I put my phone away because if my best friend and I talk about it anymore, I am for sure going to puke all over the chips and salsa I haven’t touched.
And it’s not even that they don’t look good.
Tony’s Cantina is quite possibly the most posh, swanky little Mexican place I’ve ever been to. Come to think of it– Boston has a lot to offer that I’ve never experienced.
My ex wasn’t a big ‘eat out’ kind of a guy (in both the restaurant sense of the term…or the other thing…). He was too worried about counting macros and getting your morning vitamin D before 9am so that it “actually counts”.
But I don’t want to focus on Shane either.
I am here because Joni has been nagging me for months about “putting myself back out there” and “getting laid for my own benefit." Because of that, this date is posed as just that– a let’s see what happens?
I might be dense in the dating world, but I do know what that means…
If dinner goes well, we are hooking up.
“Hey!” the bartender approaches the table, and I force a smile.
She’s nice enough so it’s not too difficult, despite feeling the overwhelming urge to crawl under the table. “My name is Madeline. What can I get you to drink?”
“A gin and tonic. Please.”
“Do you want a regular one or the house?”
“What’s the difference?” I ask curiously.
“The house has muddled fruit in it.”
“Oh, I’ll take one of those!” I smile. Because I don’t do anything plain. Being a little eccentric has always been my MO. It’s why the whole bookstore owner vibe suits me so well. I’m quirky to say at the least.
“I got you. Are you waiting on someone?” she asks.
“I am. A date. Not a boyfriend though. It’s a blind date. From a dating app. I never do this…” The words come spewing out of me and my cheeks flush before I let out a nervous giggle.
“I see. Well, that’s exciting.”
“Yeah…or something. You know…I haven’t been on a date since I got divorced. Back when my ex and I got married, online dating wasn’t as popular as it is now.”
“The old days were golden, weren’t they?” she asks and I laugh, loud and unapologetic because that’s also just kind of who I am.
“Now you have to match with someone and then figure out what they’re looking for. I don’t even know what I’m looking for to be honest.”
“I don’t think a lot of people do, love,” she says, and I don’t know if that makes me feel better or worse. “Just…see how it goes. And whatever you feel like doing at the end of the night…do it.”
“Do it,” I repeat. “Just…whatever that is?”
“Whatever that is,” she says as she shoves her pen back in her apron.
“You wanna say goodbye forever and move on? No shame. You wanna snag a hotel room and forget who you are for an evening? No shame in that either. The nice thing about the golden era being dead?” she leans in a little, “Double standards died with it.”
I smile. I like her. She’s real.
But I’m still nervous as hell.
Because honestly? I’m not really interested in getting laid.
Which is probably half the reason I would rather barf on the chips and three kinds of salsa than eat them right now.
Because isn’t it kind of implied that on a first dating app date, that you hook up?
I don’t know these things.
I got married young. Too young.
And we didn’t sleep together until we were married.
Oh, the naivety.
I pull the app back up on my phone and click on my matches. There’s only one because even with Joni’s help, I wasn’t just going to swipe right every time a hot guy popped up. Swiping right means you’re a bitch unless you talk to them and I’m not really ready for that kind of responsibility.
I also don’t believe in accepting drinks from randos at a bar either.
In other words…I have no idea what I am doing. Which is most likely the culprit of feeling very unprepared right now.
Jax’s profile consists of literally one photo.
It’s black and white. He’s standing with his back to the camera (red flag number one), his arms braced on a banister of some kind, his head turned to the side, giving the camera only a silhouette of his actual face (red flag number two).
It’s hard to tell his body type from the angle and lighting but if I had to guess- he’s a gym bro.
That, and the number of red flags just listed, makes my stomach sour a little.
Shane cared about nothing more than the gym. He also weighed thirty pounds less than me because he eats nothing but canned tuna and sauteed tofu. Oh, and kale. So. Much. Kale.
I set my phone face down and cover my face with my hands.
I need to get my shit together.
I look good.
I’m wearing a yellow dress, my favorite dress actually, and black and white polka-dotted heels.
I may not be a Becky, but I do love me some cute heels.
The food smells promising. The night is young or whatever they say and there is a man named Jax with nice forearms and a jawline that could split a coconut in two showing up any minute who is here to see me.
I am single and ready to mingle.
Time passes, and I wait.
I was early so I’m not too worried.
Until our meeting time is in the rearview mirror by a good ten minutes.
Then twenty.
Then a half an hour.
I’m not really sure at this point what I am supposed to do.
Do I text him and seem too eager?
Do I give him some grace?
It is Friday after all, and everyone knows how bad Boston traffic is.
I finish my drink and eat a chip because honestly, I am hungry. It’s dinner time and we are supposed to be having dinner. At least…I think that was the plan? I can’t imagine him choosing a place like this, expecting sex but not buying me food.
My phone buzzes and I look down to see a text from Joni.
Joni: ?
I don’t want to send a thumbs down. She’ll think I’m hogtied in the back of some rando’s trunk. But at the same time, I’d say getting ghosted is absolutely a thumbs down.
“Another drink?” Madeline asks, suddenly standing next to the table. Her smile has shifted from friendly to bittersweet. She knows.
“Yeah. Fuck it. Make it a double.”
She nods and walks away and I sigh, leaning back in my chair.
I guess this one’s on me.
Not that I can’t afford it. I have money, I just prefer to be thrifty. And I work hard. I do deserve to be treated…even if I am treating myself.
I squeeze my eyes shut and shake my head, trying to wish away the feeling of loneliness and rejection washing over me.
Then suddenly, there’s someone standing next to me.
He’s tall.
Very tall.
He’s also muscular.
Like…the man could double for Chris Hemsworth in Thor muscular.
His blonde hair (with a dash of silver) is cut very professional, very sleek and he’s clean shaven.
His jawline is strong, maybe even strong enough to split a coconut, (just like his forearms), though it is more rectangular than I’d pictured.
I squeeze my thighs tighter under the table, half because this skirt is shorter than I typically prefer and half because I might be just a tiny bit wet down there.
But I never said that.
Also, kudos to me. I didn’t even know the water works still had a functioning valve.