The First Date

She was trying to be attentive to what he was saying but could only focus on the piece of spinach stuck between his bottom teeth. It was a wonder he could keep talking while shoveling spoonfuls of his pasta into his mouth. She quickly averted her eyes from his mouth, not wanting to give off the wrong impression (a kiss, maybe? Her stomach turned at the thought). 

            “... and they almost hit me! I mean, you wouldn’t expect there to be many people on the road at 6 am, but drivers in the city are reckless at any hour of the day.” Her date rambled on, not noticing her gaze drift away from him, surveying the rest of the dim restaurant. 

            It was a nice restaurant, she had to admit. They didn’t wait too long for their food (thank God. She didn’t want to drag this date on longer than it had to be), and the servers were extremely pleasant. She rested her chin in her hand. From an outside perspective, it truly looked like she was interested in whatever nonsense her date was spewing, but her stare was slightly off-center, watching the couple that was sitting diagonally in front of them. They had their hands interlocked across the table, but not in a way that made other people uncomfortable due to excessive PDA. It seemed natural for them, the man gently caressing small circles between her thumb and index finger. They exuded an air of familiarity, the love and tension between them almost tangible. A hot flash of jealousy surged through her. What she would give to experience that type of intimacy.  

            “Yeah, it's a tough go, but I manage to squeeze one in before work every morning.” He paused, gulping down some of his red wine. What was he talking about? Oh, he was still bragging about his early morning runs. “Do you?” His sudden question jolted her back to reality. 

            “I’m sorry, what?” She asked, trying not to stare at his mouth again. The green vegetable was still there, and now his teeth were slightly stained red from the wine. 

            “Do you like to run?” It was probably the second question he asked her all night, the first one being a nonchalant “How was your day?” that hastily turned into him overtaking the conversation, barely letting her get a word in. 

            “Actually, yes I do.” She replied. “I used to do track and field in college, and I’m currently training for my second marathon. I’m hoping to qualify for the Boston.” She paused, weighing the risks of elaborating on her extensive running history that would certainly one-up his experience. “It’s actually been--”

            “Oh, wow. Yeah. Yeah, I hear you. Your second marathon, that’s not bad.” It was too late. He jumped in at her hesitation, once again interrupting her thought. “Yeah, I haven’t run that sort of distance. Yet. You know, I don’t want to overwork myself. You know, you should be cautious of…” 

            She sighed, tuning him out again. God forbid this man actually let someone else, let alone a woman, be better at him than something. She took a bite out of her carbonara. At least she was getting a free meal out of this interaction. This barely qualified as a date in her mind. Wasn’t there supposed to be a mutual attraction on some level for it to be considered a date? She wasn’t even sure he remembered what her name was. Her attention drifted again to the couple behind her date. The woman was laughing at something the man was saying. It wasn’t fake either. She could tell. It was the kind of laugh that could probably be heard across the restaurant if she didn’t smother it with her hand. It was real. They were real. She felt a sharp pain radiate across her palm and realized she had been gripping her fork with anger. She released the utensil, stretching out her hand and wiggling her fingertips. Her date had no clue.

            “Hey, maybe we can train together sometime? I’ve always wanted a running buddy, but no one can keep up. You probably have a good shot, though.” Her date drained the rest of his wine, wiping his mouth with the white cloth napkin. He had somehow completely finished his dish while talking through the whole dinner. Her plate was still half full.            

“Yeah, maybe.” She said, her tone flat and unenthusiastic. He didn’t notice, pulling out his wallet and waving his credit card at a random waiter for the check. Her stomach grumbled slightly, still hungry for what was left of her meal. She shoved the feeling down, preferring to just take the rest of the pasta to go so she didn’t have to suffer at the mercy of her date. The couple at the other table were also signing their check. As they got up to leave, the man grabbed his date’s coat from her, helping her slip it on. He whispered something in the woman’s ear, eliciting a blush and giggle from her. She turned her head and gently kissed his cheek. They maneuvered through the restaurant, hand in hand. She made brief eye contact with the woman, who gave her a soft smile. She could only smile back weakly, a close-lipped attempt at friendliness.

            “So, hey. I had a good time tonight.” Her date scribbled his signature on the receipt and looked up at her, brandishing a smile with wine-stained teeth. “I would love to do this again sometime.”

            She just laughed in response.