she says
you're a serial dater aren't you?
you're one of those
who does the whole
serial relationship thing.
right?
you finish one
and go on to the other.
like a chain smoker.
i sort of hear what she's saying,
but i'm distracted by the
confusing menu that i had
to open up on my phone.
what?
were you talking to me?
yes. i'm right here and we're
on a date, right now.
who else would i be talking to?
a date?
yes.
ummm. no, this is not a date
sugar pie.
this is what we call
a meet up.
a getting to know you part
of the online dating program.
it's not a date.
it's part of the elimination process.
a date is when i pick you up
and we go out after
we know each other a little better.
oh no.
you're not getting out of this.
she slams her bejeweled hand
down on the table.
this is a date buddy boy
and you're buying me dinner
and three glasses of wine.
the nine ounce glasses.
and i want dessert too.
that chocolate waffle thing.
i wonder if they have the paper
menus, i ask her. looking at
my watch and
taking another extra large
gulp of my gin and tonic.
i try to imagine a trap door
in the floor that i can pull
the lever and send her screaming
down.
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