Night of the Gargoyle

#MyWorstDate

I pulled into the Seaport Diner in my brother's pickup on a Sunday night just after sunset. I would finally be meeting up with the girl I had been talking to online for the better part of the year. I was nervous. Meeting girls from the internet was not something I made a habit of doing, particularly back then. But I felt like she and I had something going on. From day one we just seemed to click whenever we would talk. So as nervous as I was I was also extremely hopeful. The fact that she was gorgeous in every picture I had ever seen of her probably contributed to that hope as well.

We had agreed to meet in the parking lot of the diner at the exact time I pulled in. Technically I was on time, but I had wanted to get there earlier than I did, just so I could decompress for a few while actually being on the site of the predetermined meeting place before the actual meeting. So as far as I was concerned I considered myself late. Either way, I was hoping I wouldn't have to wait too long for her to show up.

No sooner had I parked the truck and checked my wallet to make sure I had everything I wanted to be sure I had on me did I look up only to see a small figure approaching the truck. It was her. She had gotten there first. I had told her I'd be in my brother's pickup that night as my regular car was in the shop, so she knew it was me once I pulled in. She was just as beautiful as she was in her pictures. In fact, now that I got to see her in the flesh, she was even prettier. Her pictures didn't do her justice.

We had a very cordial meeting in the parking lot. She had a small paperback book with her, The Catcher in the Rye. It was her favorite. She knew I hadn't read it and had always told me that it was something that I simply had to read and that it would be her intention to make sure that I did; so the book was for me. I thanked her and left it in the truck. As we began to walk into the diner together I felt like this might actually turn out to be a good night after all. The diner was not busy and we were seated in a booth with nobody else around. Neither of us was very hungry, so we were fine with simply ordering a large basket of cheese fries that we could share and some sodas.

We started talking and within the first five minutes or so I began to sense something was off. The chemistry we seemed to have over the phone and the internet all of those months wasn't quite there. The fries eventually arrived, and for the first ten minutes or so after we began eating, though the chemistry was not the same, it seemed like things were perhaps getting a little better. We were picking at them as we talked, and then it happened.

She had already been sniffling her nose once or twice previously, but this time after she sniffled she blatantly wiped it with her bare hand. It was strange. In the grand scheme of things, this wouldn't have been the worst thing someone could do, but I thought it especially odd considering we were eating out of the same basket of fries. I tried to put it out of mind.

The talk didn't get much better after that though because she kept doing it. I don't even remember what we talked about that night. The only thing I can remember was how she kept sniffling and wiping her runny nose with her hand and sleeve. Before the third time or so I just thought it was bizarre that she would behave that way on a first-time-date with someone, let alone someone who was eating out of the same pile of food as she was. I mean, after all, there was a fully stocked napkin dispenser just to her left on our table. But by the fourth time, it was just gross. She just kept doing it. It became borderline obnoxious.

It reached a point where any mood, any chemistry, any hopes I had held coming into this date were dashed. All I could think about was that she was either, one, disgusting, or two — what I really think was going on — wasn't into me at all and grossing me out was her way of trying to get me to stop having an interest in her so she didn't have to feel bad by telling me she didn't want our relationship to progress any further than it already had. It was one of those two, and neither one was good insofar as I was concerned. And if indeed her intention was to gross me out, it worked.

We had another cordial departure after and I finished paying the small check. I think we were both glad it was finally over at that point. Before we had met that night, we discussed the possibility of going to a bar after our dinner, but neither of us brought it up at any point during our talk. She just told me, "So I'm going to go ..." That's all I can remember her ever saying that whole night. I remember that because I recall how her tone in saying it seemed to be that of a child who wanted to be set free to go outside and play with her friends hoping that her dad wouldn't recall that she hadn't completed her chores yet.

It was after nine once I got back into the truck. I looked over and saw the book she had given me in the passenger seat. I knew it was essentially my book now. She wouldn't be asking for it back. "Yay," I sarcastically thought. "Free book!"

It was a disappointing night but in the grand scheme of things, looking back on it, as far as horrible dates go, it wasn't as bad as it could have been, comparatively speaking. In fact, I consider myself lucky in that it remains the worst date I've ever been on because I've heard all of the horror stories other people have endured on first dates. Nevertheless, I pulled out of that dark and empty parking lot with a whole lot less wind in my sail.

I switched the radio on. The announcer reminded me that my football team had lost earlier that day. I could have lived without that added indignity as I pulled out onto the highway to head east for my drive back home. But it was then that I noticed the moon low in the sky. It was impossible not to notice it. It wasn't full, but it was menacingly big. It was like it consciously wanted to be seen. Its large yellow appearance dominated the starless backdrop. It just hovered up there like a demonic gargoyle leering at me from a parallel dimension to mock my failure. It was evil! "The perfect metaphor to symbolize the night," I thought to myself.

That night the moon was in view for the whole drive back home. It just hung there like a reminder of how bad that date had been. But there was something more to it. I had joked how it appeared evil at first, but as I looked at it some more while I was stopped at a red light I really did begin to feel like there was an evil lurking in the moon that night. I remember even feeling like it was a portent of bad things to come in some way. That, above all else, is what I actually remember more than anything about the date: that evil moon. "It's funny," I thought the next day, "how a girl can affect how it is I think."

I finally pulled into the driveway. I was home. I went inside as briskly as I could because I didn't like having to look at that moon anymore. I also felt drained and just wanted to go to bed because I couldn't help but feel saddened by the whole ordeal. Not only did that date signal the end of any hopes I had for a relationship, but I knew it was also the end of a friendship I had valued for almost a year. Oh, well. On the brighter side of things, how bad could the rest of the week, or even that month, be? My car was in the shop, My Jets had lost, and my date with the Internet girl was a flop, but things could only get better from here on out. If nothing else, the following day — Monday, September the 10th, 2001 — would signal a fresh start. At least I had that one day.