Isn’t he supposed to be perfect? Ally wondered aimlessly. I mean, isn’t he supposed to be dressed in nice pants, maybe a sport jacket, collared shirt? She questioned as she looked at the man across from her. Am I too picky? Shouldn’t I be listening to what he’s saying rather than critiquing his wardrobe? She asked herself while looking at the ball cap turned backwards. Maybe he has something really worthwhile to say..she admonished while setting her gaze on the dirty white t-shirt.
“So I says to my bud Petey, there ain’t no way that rack is real!”
Then again, maybe not. Ally smiled a little and sighed a lot. Why do I keep putting myself into these situations? He was still rambling on about the reality or unreality of some woman’s breasts and apparently quite amazed at his ability to tell the difference.
Here’s the thing, she began the interior dialogue, this guy had a picture of himself online that looked really nice. Dressed nicely, shaved, hair combed. So why is he such a mess now? Does he think I’m not worth the trouble? But he doesn’t even know me, so that can’t be it. Should I ask him?
“Listen Paul, I don’t mean to interrupt, but can I ask you a question?”
“Sure, shoot!”
“ Ok, well, you know your picture online...”
“Yeah...nice huh..that was taken at my buddy’s wedding.”
“Oh..ok..well...so...jeans and t-shirts are more your thing huh.”
“Are you kidding! I LIVE in shorts and t-shirts...but I thought I’d wear jeans for our date...wanted to look nice.”
Holy ****...I’m in big trouble.
“Oh...right.”
“So anyway, I was telling you about my buddy Mark’s mustang...”
And I’m gone again.
Isn’t he supposed to be relatively normal? Ally noticed her reduction in standards. And isn’t he supposed to speak? She pondered as she wracked her brain for the next topic of conversation. Every question she asked was met by a two word ( maybe three if she was lucky) answer. The expression “pulling teeth” was an understatement.
“So...Tom...what was it like growing up in Maine?” Ok, this is a big question. Big answer inserted here. Should be worth at least an entire sentence.
“Oh...you know. Just like anywhere else.” Ally waited for more information. Tales of fishing for lobster perhaps? Trips to the vineyards? None came. Not a single story, not even a caption. She began to talk about her childhood in Chicago. The museums, the shows, her history.
Tom listened, nodded and laughed where appropriate. When she was finished, Ally waited for the questions that would surely follow.
Oh boy, we’re gonna converse now! I’ve told him too much for him not to be curious for more. Ally waited. Tom chewed.
That’s it. This is too much work. I had one thing down, he looked nice when we met. Nice jeans at least, polo shirt, cute. And he talked online for Christ’s sake! Maybe the anonymity of the computer made him more at ease. Please dear God, let him ask just one stupid question.
Tom chewed. Ally sighed.
