Third Date

From across the table, I tried to keep eye contact as Dale shared a funny story from his childhood.

I only caught about every third word because I had other things on my mind.

It was our third date and if this kept up, I would have to tell him about my family.

When Dale had picked me up earlier that evening, he asked if I’d ever eaten at Gino’s.

Gino’s! My favorite. One of those unsung gems only a few people seemed to know about.

Of course, he knows about Gino’s, I thought to myself.

Everything about him had been near perfect since we’d met a couple of weeks earlier. This was one more thing to add to the list.

“Brooke?”

“Huh?”

“I didn’t mean to bore you,” I thought you’d find it funny.”

“Oh, no. It is funny. I’m sorry. I just zoned out for a second.”

When the waiter brought our meal, I ordered another glass of wine. I needed to loosen up a little. Not too much, though. Lord, no. The last thing I needed was to be tipsy and blab about my life story with no filter. Nothing positive would come from that. None ever had.

Dale shared his thoughts about a movie he’d seen, but I started thinking about Seth.

Yeah, Seth. A solid guy.

At the time, I’d never met someone I clicked with to that level. We had almost as much in common as Dale and I did.

I knew better. I shouldn’t have told him. I’d never told anyone I’d gone out with about my family, but let my guard down for once.

Lesson learned. That’s all I can say.

He was polite enough, but I saw the ice in his eyes. The temperature dropped about twenty degrees in the ensuing silence.

After he dropped me off, I’d never heard from him again.

I still have his copy of One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest he let me borrow.

“Brooke? Did you zone out on me again?”

“No, I’m still here. I agree with you. I thought that part of the movie was a little over the top, too. It didn’t ruin the movie, but it was unnecessary.”

Dale was satisfied, as he continued with his list of old movies he still liked to watch.

Oh, no. That could go south.

If he asks me about my favorite movies from childhood, no telling what direction the conversation might take.

Sure, Dale had spoken a little about his family before, but not in detail. He hadn’t gone deep into the weeds, yet. Yet being the operative word.

So far, I'd sidestepped it. That only lasts so long, though.

At some point, your family is not a simple aside in some other story. Eventually, it would be the conversation.

Please, God, don’t let it be tonight. If we could have a few more dates, I’d be able to figure this out.

There had to be a way to resolve everything and not send him running. I wouldn’t make the same mistake I made with Seth. Or Tristan.

Tristan was a decent-ish guy. Not A-plus material, but that was by design.

After Seth disappeared on me, I figured I needed a new strategy. Lower my expectations. That was the new strategy. If I found a guy with more cracks and defects of his own, I thought maybe, just maybe, he’d be a little more understanding about the situation with my family.

Sounded plausible in theory. Not so much in reality. What a scene.

We ate lunch at Panera Bread. The whole thing is still seared into my brain. I ordered the chipotle chicken avocado melt. Tristan got the tortellini alfredo pasta. Both of us drank blood orange lemonade. Another thing we had in common.

When there was a lull in the conversation, I saw my window of opportunity. I came at it subtly, very nonchalant. After I stuck my toe into the water a little, I dove in and told him everything. Not in graphic detail, but I put it all out there. At first, he laughed, thinking it was a joke. The expression on my face must have told him otherwise because a dark cloud suddenly cast its shadow over him.

“You’re serious, aren’t you? You’re serious!”

I physically winced. The disgust dripped from his words.

I hope you never have to see that level of revulsion on someone’s face. I wished I hadn’t, but I’m probably more used to it than the average person.

Still, with Tristan, it got bad. My only answer for him was a sort of helpless, pathetic shrug.

Like so many other times, I wanted to melt away or disappear in a poof, like a fairy godmother in one of those cartoons. No such luck.

Like a mindless, mute rock, I sat there while the full ramifications of what I’d said sunk into the recesses of Tristan’s mind.

When Tristan bolted upright, he almost turned over his chair.

When he slapped his hands onto the table, to lean over and glower at me, his half-eaten bowl of pasta leaped a couple of inches into the air.

His face turned red, or should I say blood orange

“What the hell, Brooke?!” He did not his inside voice. At all. “Why did you wait this long to tell me? No, never mind. It’s kind of obvious. But, seriously, did you think I wasn’t going to care? Are you demented? Is this something you do for kicks? Lure guys in and then drop a nuclear bomb on them once they start falling for you?”

I started to stammer some kind of lame response, but he was already halfway out the door. Everyone within earshot at Panera stared at me, as I choked back the tears.

As soon as I thought Tristan was out of the parking lot, I escaped outside. Did I mention he drove that day?

It only took about five minutes for an Uber to pick me up. It may as well have been an eternity. The gaze of the nosey customers through plate glass windows were like laser beams. Lesson learned.

Settling for someone with more of their own issues also increases the chances of them not reacting well. In a worst-case scenario, I suspected Dale would at least keep his composure better.

Once we’d finished our meal at Gino’s, he asked if I wanted to go for a walk along the waterfront.

Sure, I said. A little walk in the cool, night air might pull me out of my thoughts.

I was not being very attentive. Dale must also have thought so, but he had been polite enough not to pry.

If I didn't focus, he would press me. It’s only natural to be concerned when someone acts so weird.

Even though I let him do most of the talking during dinner, he wasn’t self-centered. He was attuned.

Not as sensitive as Greg, but a genuine, caring person.

Now, Greg. That guy. Whew. If you’d been sad a week ago, he would know. He picked up on everything. Our first date was phenomenal. It was like he saw into my depths.

There was more to it than having a lot in common. He had such a sense of discernment. It was amazing how he guessed my likes and interests. That was our undoing.

On our second date, ironically, we were at Gino’s. I’d been the one to suggest it that time. Greg had never been to Gino’s before then. My guess is that he’s never been back, either. I’ve never worried too much about running into him.

For being such a sensitive and intuitive man, I couldn't believe the potty mouth on that guy. For real. To his credit, though, he didn’t pull a Tristan and make a spectacle. No, with Greg, he leaned forward and kind of did this thing where he half whispered, half hissed, through his teeth, in an ominous voice.

His reaction did not shock me. Why would it?

What did surprise me was how much he blamed me for telling him, as if he hadn’t been the one to pry it out of me. It was Mister Intuition's fault if you ask me.

“Brooke, I don’t mean to overstep, here. I feel like there’s something under the surface with you that is putting up some kind of barrier between us. Is there something about your past? Whenever I’ve mentioned my past, or my family, I sense something going on with you.”

Impressive, right? Whereas Tristan accused me of luring him in, I have to say, I felt Greg lured me in. He was so gentle and kind.

If anyone would be nonjudgmental, I would bet on Greg. Second date, or not, when he told me no matter what, I could share it with him, I believed him. To be fair, he meant it.

When you ask about someone’s family, you expect something about vacations in Destin, or on the dark side, parents with a bad divorce. Creepy Uncle Dave, a drug-addicted older brother, is the kind of skeleton you expect in someone's closet. I’m sure Greg would have handled any of those things with compassion and understanding.

“You sick…” Well, I won’t repeat what he called me. That’s not the point.

“Wait, Greg. You asked me. And, and, it’s not me. It’s my family. We can’t control what family we’re born into.”

Under different circumstances, the logic would be more apparent. He’s quite a smart person. All the same, he wasn’t having any of it that night. No, he repeated it, in that hissy-whisper voice, only each time he added some unexpected, new profanity to the mix. Aside from the unpleasantness, I give him points for his creative use of the English language.

Before Greg left me sitting alone with my rigatoni, he threw enough cash on the table to cover the meal. I imagine he did it more from habit, or principle, rather than concern for me.

“Stay out of my f’in life.” Those were his last words to me. Almost. He didn’t say f’in. He used the real word.

The walk with Dale was better than expected. The fresh air and the city lights pulled me out of my slump. Enjoying each other’s company so much, we kind of lost track of time. I was more convinced this relationship had a future.

I know he thought the same thing. A woman can tell. What’s the saying about sparks flying? Whatever it is, that was us.

At some point we’d have to have “the conversation”, but I would cross that bridge when we came to it.

If it hadn’t been a weeknight, I don’t know how long we would have stayed out. It was one of those moments to hold on to forever. It was late, though, so when Dale suggested we call it a night, it was the only thing to do.

Like I said earlier, it was our third date, so we’d been taking it slow. Dale was a true gentleman.

Walking back toward the car, Dale reached over for my hand and we clasped fingers. Silly, perhaps, but I felt like a schoolgirl. I was glad it was dark because I bet I blushed. Is that silly?

Almost back to my apartment, we were sitting at a red light. It doesn’t matter, but yeah, we were at a red light when Dale stopped in the middle of a sentence and looked over at me.

“I almost forgot,” he said. “I meant to ask you something earlier, at dinner. My parents are coming into town this weekend. So, on Saturday night, I was going to invite my sister and her fiancé over and, you know, we’re just going to hang out and have a casual dinner. I was wondering if you might like to join us. No pressure. I’m not trying to rush anything.”

I sat blinking at him. The light turned green.

“Hey,” Dale said. “No big deal. It’s too soon, I get it. It’s just that it would be my parents together, my sister and Matt, that’s her fiancé. I just thought it would be cool to have you with me. I understand, though. Baby steps. Right?”

Baby steps. Exactly. What would it hurt? We both liked each other a lot.

If Dale was the one, I mean, the one, well, I would have to meet his family. Sure, I didn’t think it would be our fourth date, but the evening was perfect. I grinned at him.

“Dale, you’re right. It’s not a big deal. I’d be happy to come over for dinner.”

The words tumbled out of my mouth. Unbelievable. It was like an out-of-body experience, looking down at some stranger who happened to look like me.

I can do this. We can do this. Baby steps, yes, but it’s fine. My family and all the rest – it is what it is. The past can't be changed. Don’t cry over spilled milk. Whatever old, corny saying applies, that’s it. The look on Dale’s face made it worth it. He beamed.

“Great,” he said. He had a goofy grin on his face. “I’ll call you later in the week, once we firm up times.”

“Sounds wonderful.” My grin must have been as goofy as his.

By then, we were pulling up in front of my place. We didn’t want the night to end, but we both had to be at work early the next morning. We would have to wait until the weekend to pick up where we left off.

Before I opened my door, Dale leaned in for a kiss and I met him halfway.

We both got those schoolkid smiles on our faces again, as I reached for the door handle.

“Say,” Dale said. “You've never told me if your family lives around here, or not. No rush, or anything, but I’d love to hear about them. Maybe this weekend. Anyway, thanks for an awesome night, Brooke. I’ll call you. Ok?”

“Yeah, it was awesome, wasn’t it? I’ll be waiting for your call.”

As I walked toward my door, I scrolled through my phone.

Before I put the key in the lock, I turned and watched Dale’s car turn onto the street. When the taillights disappeared into the dark, so did my smile.

I pulled Dale’s number up in my contact list. I pressed the “block” button. I wanted to cry, but I didn’t. What’s the point anymore?

Such a shame, though. It had been a perfect night.