Bouquet Toss (16 page)

“I’m thinking I should call it a night, Brock.  I have a busy day tomorrow.”

Brock looks disappointed but doesn’t ask to see me again.  Suddenly, his intentions for the evening have become transparent and I can’t get into my car fast enough.  Morgan calls me within minutes of my drive home.

“Seriously?” she asks incredulously, “The dude is a lawyer and he didn’t pay for dinner?  He asked you out and he chose the place.  What a cheap ass!”

“Those were my thoughts exactly.  But, that’s not the worst part.  The guy had absolutely no interest in getting to know me, but had every intention of getting me back to his place. Geez, Morgan, is this what dating is going to be like?  Going dutch for dinner followed by one night stands with douchebag guys who don’t even try to sound interested in me?”

“No, not at all, Daph.  This is just one date with one guy.  Don’t give up yet.  You said you had plenty of other date requests on the website.”

“Yeah, okay.” I agree.  “But, you need to pick the next date.  I chose Brock and look how that turned out.”

“Alright, I remember your password.  I’ll choose the next guy. No lawyers this time.”

“And no tattoos,” I add.

“Why not?  Matt has a tattoo,” Morgan says defensively.

“I know. I just want to get as far away from Brock’s type as I possibly can.”

“I understand,” Morgan concedes. “I’ll get to work right away.”

By the time I arrive home, there’s already an email from Morgan telling me the name of my next date. 

Name:  Abram Moore

Age: 35

Body Type:  Athletic

Career: Teacher

Relationship Status:  Never Married

Seeking: A relationship

In his profile picture, the blond haired blue eyed Abram is smiling wide while riding a bicycle.  He lists his pride in his athleticism, his love of all things culinary and his desire to one day write a hit screenplay.  Morgan definitely did a decent job. He sounds nothing at all like Brock. 

When Abram calls later that evening to schedule our date, I’m immediately drawn to his voice.  It’s soft and silky and I can tell he has done this many times before.  I must admit that the thought of ending up with another teacher sounds wonderful.  He’s an English teacher and loves to talk about literature and the classics.  In addition to screenplays, he writes poetry and has a real artistic streak to him.

Unlike Brock, Abram asks me many questions about myself.  He inquires about my job, my family, and my students.  He seems genuinely interested in my answers.  We have many things in common such as our love of the theater and for books written by Hemingway and Twain.  When he asks me out for the following weekend, I realize that I’m genuinely looking forward to learning more about him, wondering if maybe this could amount to something.

Abram suggests we meet at a restaurant in between our two suburbs, an Irish Pub that sits on the outskirts of a movie theater.  He writes screenplays and I love movies so I assume we’ll be heading there if all goes well at dinner.

“Wow, you’re even prettier in person, Daphne,” Abram says, greeting me at the door to the pub.

“Thank you,” I smile. “You look very handsome yourself.” 

Abram’s light blond hair is short and spiky in the front.  His hipster glasses complement his sapphire eyes and I’m instantly drawn to the freckles that adorn his pale cheeks. He takes my hand gently and leads me to our table.

“Would you like something to drink?  They have really great microbrews here,” he says as he hands me the drink menu.

“I think I’ll have some wine.  Moscato is my favorite.”

“What is that?”

“It’s a sparkling white wine.  It’s slightly bubbly and I just love it.”

“Well, then, let’s get you a glass,” he smirks.

The waitress arrives and Abram orders our drinks, “The Lady will have a glass of Moscato, and I’d like the Lemon Shandy House Brew.”  At once I’m wooed by him referring to me as “the lady”---definitely a first for me while on a date.  But, as our waitress walks away, I catch him staring at her ass!  He turns back to me, a cocky grin spread about his face and winks, as if I should enjoy his wandering eye.  I want to lash out, call him a pig and throw my drink (which has not yet arrived) square in his face.  Instead, I hold my head high and convince myself to stay calm.  All guys have roaming eyes, Abram just isn’t afraid to hide his.

When our waitress arrives with our drinks, Abram focuses his attention completely on me once again so I decide to give him another chance. He is rather cute, after all.

“To our first date,” he toasts, “I hope to get to know you much better during this meal, Daphne.  So far, I’m very impressed.” He winks again.  What is it with this guy and winking?  Does he have some kind of twitch?

“So, what is your all time favorite movie?” Abram asks, leaning in closer to me.

“Hmm,” I ponder. “I would have to say Rocky.”

“Really, that’s an interesting choice.  Do you have a thing for inarticulate boxers?” he laughs in a mocking tone.

“No, I love to root for the underdog.  I also love the relationship between Rocky and
Adrian
.  I’m a sucker for subtle romance.”

“Wow,” he leans back into his side of the booth, seemingly disgusted by my movie choice.  He acts as if I’ve harmed him in some way by having an opinion that doesn’t coincide with his own.  Perhaps there is more to Abram than it seems.

“What about you?  What is your favorite movie?”

“Well, I like to see
films
.  Most of what is out there is complete drivel.  It’s really hard for me to find a movie that I can tolerate.  But, if I had to choose a film, it would be Citizen Kane.” 

“Oh,” I say simply.  The way he enunciates the word film makes my skin crawl.

“Is there a problem with Citizen Kane?” he asks defensively.

“No,” I reply, “It’s just that I’ve never seen it.”

“You can’t be serious, Daphne.  Where have you been living, under a rock?”

“Excuse me?” I ask, stunned.  “That was uncalled for, Abram. I must say, you seem to be a bit of a movie snob.”

“You’d better believe I am,” he retorts, “I don’t buy into the whole
Hollywood
trap where movies like Rocky are given Oscars and ridiculous actors like Stallone are able to rise to stardom.  That guy sounds like he’s been punched in the face way too many times.  Seriously, the guy can barely act his way out of a paper bag.

What other movies do you like--Weekend at Bernie’s?  The Muppets Take
Manhattan
?”  He laughs into his beer, evidently amusing himself.  I’m wishing that I hadn’t finished my Moscato so quickly so that I could, in fact, toss it into his smug little face, smudging his perfect glasses. Although he’d probably insist they are called “spectacles.”  What an asshole.

“As a matter of fact,” I say, grabbing my purse and standing next to the table, “I happen to love “Weekend at Bernie’s”.  My cousin Morgan and I can recite half that damn movie and I’m not ashamed of it.  As for “The Muppets Take Manhattan”, it is one of my very favorite films from childhood and I’d be ashamed to date any man who thought it ridiculous.  The Muppets are an American institution, one that should be celebrated, not mocked. You could learn a thing or two from men like Jason Segel--,”

Abram interrupts me sarcastically, “You mean the idiot who developed the new Muppet Movi
e?  Are you serious?  That guy’
s a joke.”

“You know, for someone who wants to write a hit screenplay some day, you have an extraordinarily limited view on what is acceptable and what is not.”

“It’s called having taste.  Let me guess, you probably love to see Jennifer Aniston ‘rom-coms’ with your girlfriends, don’t you?  You probably love those hideously developed plotlines. Wake up Daphne, get a clue.”

“Oh, I’m awake, Abram.  And I’ve already gotten my clue.  It’s obvious that you are a snob, plain and simple, and you have no respect for other people’s tastes or opinions.  Because of that, I will be leaving now.  Thank you for the drink and the enlightening discussion on
films
.”

“Seriously, you’re leaving because I don’t like your taste in movies?  Or should I say your
lack
of taste in movies,” he laughs again to himself.  He is ridiculously smug.

“Well, yes, as a matter of fact, I am.  And my parting words to you will be from another one of my favorite movies that I’m sure you despise...’Pardon my French, but you’re an asshole!’  Good night, Abram.”

“Ferris?  Did you seriously just quote Ferris Bueller?”

“You’d better believe it.  This “Rocky” loving, Bernie reciting, Muppet fan has quoted Ferris Bueller.  I hope you are able to find the right girl, Abram, because she sure as hell ain’t me!”

And with that, I proudly make my way towards the exit of the pub.  Our waitress pulls me aside as I’m nearing the oak of the bar.

“Girl, that was awesome.  That guy is a total dick.  He comes in here all the time with dates, but I never see him with the same girl more than once.  I always thought he was a bit of a player. But, after overhearing the tail end of your conversation, I realize it’s because he’s just a jerk and no one can stand to go out with him more than once!”

“Thanks,” I smile, genuinely grateful for the reinforcement that I didn’t overreact.  Abram really is an asshole.

“I would suggest you come back another night and meet some of our regulars, but unfortunately your hipster, holier-than-thou date seems to always be here.”

“That’s sweet of you.  Just between you and me, I’ve been on two really bad dates in the last few weeks.  I think I’m ready to throw in the towel.”

“No, don’t.  You’re really adorable, and I think your taste in movies is awesome.  My name is Mallory, by the way.  Come in some other time and I’ll buy you a drink, introduce you to some nice guys who won’t insult you.”

“I’m Daphne.  Thanks for being the tiny silver lining in my storm cloud of a date.”

“Anytime!  We girls need to stick together against jackasses like him.  Want me to spill a drink in his lap?  I’ve done it before. I’m really good at making things like that look like accidents.” Mallory’s grin is devilish but sweet.

“No, that’s alright.  Let’s let him sit there all by himself with nothing but his snobbery to keep him company.  My couch is waiting for me at home. I think I’ll indulge in a cheesy romantic comedy just to spite the asshole.” I laugh, hug my new friend and leave the bar.

Once again, Morgan calls as I’m driving home.  After sharing a few details of my horrendous date, I tell her to meet me at my apartment so I can fill her in on Asshole #2.  She shows up at my door with an assortment of Jennifer Aniston romantic comedies (all of which I’ve seen several times).

“Let’s do it up right, girl.” She smiles, referring to her stack of movies, “And after these, we’ve got to watch Weekend at Bernie’s in order to properly celebrate you walking out on that fucker!”

Popping in the DVD, I’m grateful for Morgan and Mallory.  Dating is going to be tough, but at least these jerks have been a distraction from my sadness.  I can only hope that soon I’ll meet someone who will actually matter to me.  Deep down I know I deserve to meet someone who will make me feel as sexy, as beautiful and as loved as Mayson had…perhaps even more.

Rings

“Ugh,” I groan to myself, looking at the clock.  “Two more class periods to go.”  Even though I know I should be utilizing my lunch period as productively as possible, I find myself lurking in my email box.  Just as I’m about to log off and get some grading done, I notice an email pop up in my inbox.  It’s from a familiar name, Matt Renbeck, Morgan’s boyfriend.

Hi Daphne

I was hoping that you could do me a huge favor.  I’d like you to help me choose a ring for Morgan---that’s right, I’m planning to propose!  I have no idea what she’d like, though.  You know her better than anyone.....will you please help me?

Thanks,

Matt

“Holy crap!” I think to myself.  Morgan is getting engaged, and I get to help pick the ring.  Excitement boils up in my chest as I quickly type a reply to Matt telling him that I’d be honored to assist him, knowing that my cousin will absolutely say yes.  And now, I’m feeling the pressure to find the right cut, style, etc. for her ring.  Wow, this is going to be tough, but I’m up for the challenge! 

I’m so thrilled for Morgan that the rest of my day flies by quickly.  I spend the rest of my plan period searching for rings on the internet, remembering Morgan’s desire for a solitaire diamond in a platinum setting. I’m certain that Matt and I can find something stunning.
             

Luckily, Matt and I are able to schedule our shopping excursion for the very next day.  Keeping secrets has never been a talent of mine and I’m utterly relieved that he kept Morgan busy the night before so that I would not have to put on my best poker face.

“You know, you’ll have to keep the secret even after we find the ring, right Daphne?”  Matt asks, nervous.  It’s obvious he thinks I’ll crack under pressure.