Boyfriend #6
Rahim (last name forgotten), age “thirty-five” (probably forty+)
“You are so lovely,” he told Jane across the perfume counter.
She was nineteen, in college, making minimum wage, and that morning her mother had casually said, “I used to believe that once my child became an adult I’d find her interesting.
” Possibly that’s why his praise felt more important than it was, a gorgeous bird she couldn’t bear to let go.
He came by every day for a week, complimenting her, asking her about herself, and really listening.
At last, she agreed to go out with him. He took her to an expensive restaurant, and he paid!
In a spree of crazy extravagance, she ordered appetizers and dessert.
The conversation wore itself out, and she wasn’t sorry when he was finally driving her home.
“But first, I must take you to my place to show you my art. You are an artist. It will be food for your eyes!”
In his studio apartment, the walls were bare. Not only was there no painting—there was no sofa, only a round bed with a velvet cover in the center of the room.
He took off his shirt and declared, “I am the food for your eyes.”
To be fair, he was very fit. But she thought of the moment Elizabeth runs into Mr. Darcy at Pemberley; by comparison, Rahim’s attempted seduction made Jane laugh. Out loud.
There was an excruciating pause. She cleared her throat and mumbled an apology as she left. It was a long walk home in heels.