Dating Pool

[natalie_langer]

It had been another long, chaotic evening at work. The advantage of working the twelve hour shift meant Natalie only had to do it three times a week. The downside was twelve hours of never-ending stress. She had also, in a moment of impaired judgement, scheduled a blind date for two hours after the end of said shift.

Did people still call it a blind date? There had been pictures exchanged over texts, after all. Natalie chose neutral ground, a bar she had passed several times on her way home, but never entered. It was busy enough to provide distraction if small talk fell through. Ever the pessimist.

She shrugged off her black jacket and ran her fingers through her thick, dark curls to plump them up. After a brief scan, the nurse spotted a row of empty seats at the bar. No solitary male looking up at the door every few minutes. Natalie had gotten there first. The brunette ordered one of the local craft brews and settled in for the waiting game. She'd fire off a casual, questioning text after she finished the beer.

And she would try valiantly not to be the one lonely person with her eyes fixed on the entrance.

Comments

[ball_is_life]

I’m wearing a collar. Why am I wearing a collar?

Elijah stretched his neck and tugged at it. The left lapel kept curling up. No matter how much he messed with the material, it wouldn’t lie flat. Plus, he couldn’t figure out the tucking situation. Was he supposed to tuck in a button-down shirt if he wore it with jeans or let the tail hang out? Did the answer change if he didn’t own a belt?

Elijah left the apartment with the shirt arranged somewhere in between. Now, thinking about it, he realized it looked like he’d run out of a bathroom in a hurry. He would have felt better off in his regular clothes, but something told him a sweatshirt with the sleeves cut off wasn’t cool.

As he approached the bar, he did a mental run-down of what he knew about the girl, who was first cousins with his friend Shawn’s girlfriend. Her name was Shan-na, not Shan-non. She had brown hair, worked in a salon, and liked the Philadelphia Eagles, which would have been a dealbreaker if he wasn’t so hard up. It had been something like five months since his last hook-up. He was starting to see spots.

He rubbed the back of his head and searched the room for a girl matching the description. Maybe the one at the bar. A little edgier than he was expecting, but he liked a girl with a sense of style.

“Hey.” He rolled up next to her and unwrapped his scarf, which still had the price tag on it. $15 at TJ Maxx. “Sorry I’m late, I couldn’t figure out where to park.”