A while back I was sitting on a couch in a bar trying to make conversation with a man who refused to admit that he wanted to leave when a very orange woman in a tiara and a dress that made her torso look like an overstuffed olive leaf suddenly appeared above us.
“Are you guys in a fight or whhhat? You look mizzzzzzrubble.”, she slurred. She then raised an eyebrow, peered quizzically over her martini, and wobbled on her high-heels as she put her non-drink hand on her hip. In any other situation I would have searched for the phrase that would make her go away as quickly as possible, but in this case I was ready to welcome any diversion.
“No…” I began cautiously, “I was going for seductively aloof but I guess I’m giving bitchface instead. I’m not sure what his excuse is but you’re right- HE looks miserable.” I then turned to my gloomy date and made my own attempt at a raised eyebrow. I’m not sure what it actually looks like when I do this, but it can’t be what I think it is because his return expression was one of pure alarm.
“I’m not miserable,” He said miserably, “I’m just really tired.”
“So this is a date? Are you married? What’s happening?” Our lumpy new friend demanded.
“It’s a date. A first date. An ONLINE first date. I don’t think he likes me but he claims that he doesn’t want to leave so at this point we’re both here out of pure stubbornness.” I said, gesturing to the sourpuss in a sweatshirt masquerading as an actual person. In truth we had not discussed his misery at all yet, but I had been trying all night with no success to improve his mood and thought this might break the tension. The deepening furrow in his brown suggested otherwise.
“Ohhhh!” She squeeled, “What are we talking? OKcupid? Tinder? Bagel Meets Coffee...I’ve done all those. And JDate. Are you Jewish? He looks Jewish. I don’t know about you.” She said, eying me suspiciously. The Gloombot next to me had officially become inanimate, so it’s no wonder she was speaking only to me at this point, but he came to life at that moment and interjected before I could answer.
“Which one did you like the best?” I imagined his thought process at that moment. I’m so very miserable but I’m too lazy to get up. Maybe if I keep talking to this inebriated sausage garbage my date will get bored and just leave. I can’t confirm that this is what he was thinking but I decided to be annoyed by it anyway.
While Tanzilla pontificated the virtues of Bagel Meets Coffee, I wondered if maybe I should go to the bar to get a drink and just stay there. I would have left already, but I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction. I still don’t know if that was actually what he wanted, but something about the fact that I was trying to make this sullen motherfucker laugh was just making him grouchier by the minute. Should I just start talking about the holocaust instead? I remember thinking, Or quickly jump on my phone and pull up the first inane celebrity news article I can find and ask his opinion of it? I wasn’t sure what I wanted to happen but I knew that it couldn’t continue in the same track it was going. Then again, I had a seat on the couch. Just when I was thinking Can I just pretend that I’m NOT on this date? That he just happens to be sitting next to me? another overflowing dress with a martini came over and said “Did you figure it out? Is it a date?”
“
Yeeeees!”, the original Whopper screeched, “They’re on a first date. They met online.”
“Oh wow!”, Jr Bacon Cheeseburger responded, now turning to us, “We were debating what was happening over here. You both looked really unhappy so we thought you were breaking up.”
“Oh. We’re FINE.” I said, not finely. “He’s just a little tired and I just have bad social skills.”
“Yeah...long day at work.” It mumbled.
“What do you do?” One of them asked. By this point they had become one loud orange squawking blur. I snorted to myself in advance of his answer, finally appreciating the humor of the situation.
“I’m an aspiring comedian.”
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