The Challenges of Wining and Dining

Jake was at the post office, in a long line, behind a cute girl. She came up to about his chest, trim, brunette, perky little bob cut. He took notice, but didn't engage, feeling shy.

A few minutes went by, the line had barely moved, and the old lady ahead of them was digging in her purse for exact change when the cute girl sighed deeply and her gaze made a wide pass around the room.

Their eyes inadvertently met and Jake felt that strange compulsion to acknowledge it by rattling off some depressing statistic about how much time the average person spends in lines. Jake cringed internally as he heard himself speak, but it somehow struck up a conversation. She was pleasant and seemed grateful for the distraction.

They had plenty of time to talk while the line slowly moved, and eventually they began having a hard time keeping their volume down. She was funny, and Jake managed to get in a few good jokes as well. She had a laugh that devolved into a snort when she really got going, which would set Jake off giggling.

Seemingly far too soon, though, the line shortened, and Jake began to feel a nagging desperation. She would handle her business in a moment and be gone.

She was up at the counter paying her P.O.Box rent. Jake felt the indecision; was it inappropriate to say something to her? He wanted to, but he didn't know if she'd be receptive. The fear of rejection crept in. She was walking away now, and Jake felt his stomach sinking; but she looked back at him as she passed and smiled, making a vague goodbye gesture.

Jake simply reacted; fear, confidence, optimism, pessimism all clashing with each other simultaneously as he hesitantly reached out to hail her and bade her wait a moment as he picked up some stamps. He was filled with hope when she blushed and nodded. She pointed, indicating that she'd be outside. He paid quickly and nearly rushed outside without his stamps, fearing that maybe she would have left anyway. But there she was, waiting, checking her phone, and tucking her hair behind one ear as he approached. He could see the blush rising in her cheeks as he closed the distance. He could feel his own face flush, feeling a bit silly.

They greeted each other for the first time, and he asked her name. Anna. Jake explained that he really had had no cause to talk to her, but that he was afraid she would leave and he'd never have the chance to say anything to her again. So he was going out on a limb by asking her if she'd like to go out sometime.

Anna looked down at the ground and just nodded several times, which was incredibly endearing to Jake. Ideas whirred around in his head--cliche date scenarios that he could possibly utilize--and he ended up asking her if she liked wine. She smiled and nodded; Jake, internally, berated himself. Why did he say wine?!? He didn't drink wine; he hardly knew anything about wine! But now he had to get wine. Wine was like the "date" drink, wasn't it?

Having broken out in a light sweat, he finalized plans: his place at seven o'clock tomorrow (nothing crazy; just dinner and some conversation, maybe a movie) and they exchanged information to stay in touch. He left the post office feeling quite light-hearted and decided to go ahead to the liquor store on the way home.

Once there, he alternated between standing in the wine aisle, looking lost while pacing back and forth, trying in vain to pronounce the foreign names on the labels--all while trying to discern if any of these were any good.

The lady working there finally saved him, asking if she could help him find anything. He explained that he knew nothing about wine, but needed a bottle for a date. She came around the counter and strode before the bottles, pointing and rattling off French-sounding names and flavor profiles. Jake must have looked overwhelmed because she relented and said that if he wanted to play it safe, he couldn't go wrong with a good Merlot. It paired well with meals, apparently, and was fancy enough for a date. Jake took her at her word, bought it, and headed home.

He spent the next day stressing and frantically trying to prepare. It'd been so long since he'd had a legitimate date that he hardly knew what to do with himself. He knew he desperately had to clean his place. He needed to wash the good plates, hide the dirty laundry, and vacuum the couch--among a thousand other things to do. Not to mention, he needed to actually cook dinner. This meant a run to the grocery store for the steaks they'd have with the wine.

Jake stopped dead in his tracks while hauling out a clothes hamper and slapped his forehead, cursing his scatterbrained tendencies.

WINE GLASSES!

He didn't have any wine glasses, or a corkscrew either! He'd discovered the bottle wasn't a twist off after he'd already gotten home. He'd have to pick those up today, too!

After a few more hours of scrambling, he finally made it to the grocery store to get the ingredients he needed, and on his way home, made a stop at the liquor store once again. The counter was, of course, manned by the same lady from the day before. She smirked when he told her what he needed. He was just happy not to get laughed out of the store for being an unorganized mess.

Back home he took a shower, searched through his closet for something that wasn't too formal, nor informal; settling on jeans and a button-up shirt. Rolling his sleeves up, he then threw the food together (just a couple of steaks with a side of sautéed vegetables). He watched it all like a hawk, for fear of burning it, until Anna messaged to say she was ready to head his way. He texted her his address and--later--directions, when her GPS led her astray. Soon after, as he was nearing completion, there was a knock at his door.

And there was Anna on the other side, cute as a button, in jeans, a tank top, and a light denim jacket. Jake welcomed her in and sat her down at his cozy little dining table while he put the last touches on dinner, which included a last-minute addition of cheese, sliced from the block. (Cheese went with wine, right?). They made awkward smalltalk for a moment as Jake filled the plates. Then he put on his best waiter impersonation, eliciting “ooohs” and “ahhhhs” and a “Why thank you, sir,” as he served dinner and produced the wine glasses, along with "the house's finest Merlot." She played right along with the gag, and Jake, feeling the ice was sufficiently broken, relaxed considerably. Until he started struggling to open the wine.... He had the corkscrew in, but the bottle had some serious suction. He played it off as it being “the waiter's” first day on the job. Then, with a little wiggling and a judicious application of what he was afraid might be excessive force, he was finally rewarded with a satisfying pop as the cork came free.

He poured them each a generous portion in their respective glasses (he even had a little towel draped over one arm) and finally sat down to begin the meal with a toast to chance meetings, which won him a smile. Clink, went the glasses, and they each took a sip.

Jake had to concentrate to keep from making a face. He wasn't sure how a liquid could be dry, but he understood now why wines were described that way. The top layer of his tongue had just had the moisture sucked out of it. Then the taste itself hit, which was akin to a grape soda that had gone flat, only much less sweet, and it lingered with a sort of musty aftertaste. Jake wasn't a fan, but he resolved to grin and bear it for the rest of the night. Anna seemed to like it, though, going so far as to compliment his choice. Which he graciously downplayed, very quickly suggesting they dig into their dinner.

Jake tried to give the Merlot the benefit of the doubt. He tried it with the cheese. He tried it with the steak. He tried it with the vegetables…. He tried every combination in between--up to, and including, all of it at once. It just wasn't for him. In fact, he was beginning to resent it because of the distraction from the pleasant conversation he was having with Anna. In the end, he decided he would just set it aside and let Anna have the rest. But there was still quite a bit left in the bottle, and he didn't know her drinking habits. He didn't want her to get schnockered. So he gulped down the rest of his glass while holding his breath, grimly poured himself another, and tried to focus on what Anna was saying.

It wasn't long, however, before the meal was finished. Jake thought things were going well, so he suggested they move to the couch for some more conversation. She smiled and nodded, grabbing her glass as she went which made Jake feel obligated to bring the wine along, though he grimaced internally.

They set their glasses and the bottle on the coffee table in front of his couch, and Anna plopped happily onto the cushions... which is when the chaos broke loose. Anna's foot hit the coffee table with enough force to upend her wine glass. Then, in her knee-jerk reaction to catch it, she knocked over the bottle, which, in turn, knocked over Jake's glass. Wine went everywhere--the carpet, the couch, both Anna’s and Jake’s clothes... nothing and no one was spared.

The room exploded into Anna's apologies, mixing with Jake's reassurances that it was ok, then her insistence that she would clean it up, followed by Jake's dismissing it all as fine--all during the frenzied running about of two people desperate to find something absorbent.

Anna stood by, face in her hands, as Jake futilely rubbed the carpet with an acquired towel after having soaked up what had spilled on the table. She apologized profusely and then, on the verge of tears, dropped a bombshell on him: She blamed herself because... she actually didn't even really like wine and didn't know why she had said she did.

Jake was gobsmacked. He couldn't help but laugh, confessing that he didn't know what had possessed him to ever ask her about wine anyway; he, himself, had just learned that he wasn't particularly fond of it either. They both laughed, finding the absurdity of it all unreasonably funny.

Jake gave up on the carpet for the moment, and Anna followed him into the kitchen as he got them both some water. Jake made a show of swishing and gargling. After rinsing their palates, they talked at length about their social awkwardness and the strange silly things they did when they got nervous.

Before they knew it, it was late into the night and time for Anna to go. She apologized a few times more for the mess, but Jake just brushed it off. They made plans to keep in touch, and Jake waved as he shut the door behind her.

He sighed contentedly, reminiscing about the night. He could do without wine from now on, but that Anna might just be a keeper. He nodded to himself. Now he just had to look up how to remove wine stains….