Unhinged

I knew I’d been cat-fished the second I walked in the bar. At an empty table near the back was the man who’d claimed to be 6 foot 5, an ex-Division I football player. Even sitting, I could tell he was nowhere near 6 feet, and the slight build filling his t-shirt like a metal hanger screamed of an athletic career that had ended in middle school. I probably should have walked out then and there but not wanting to blow my cover, I averted my eyes and made a bee-line for the bar.

“Drink?” said the bartender, regarding me with routine pleasantry as I slid onto a bar stool. He wore a form-fitting shirt and pants with a thin black belt that sliced him elegantly in half.

“Yes,” I said, glancing through the mirror behind the bar at the imposter that was my date. “Merlot.”

“Something wrong?” the bartender said.

“It’s just, see that guy behind me?” I whispered.

“Sure,” said the bartender, eyes moving past me. “You know him?”

“Sort of,” I said. “I was supposed to meet him here, for a drink but--”

“Let me guess,” said the bartender. “He’s nothing like his profile.”

“Yes,” I said surprised. “How did you--”

“Happens all the time,” he said bending down and coming up with a wine glass. I watched the ripples in his arms as he screwed then un-screwed the cork until--POP! “People look better online.”

“Bet you’ve seen a lot of bad dates.”

“Like The Bachelor in here,” he chuckled.

“It’s sad though,” I said. “Everybody’s looking for their person.”

The bartender shrugged. “Not everything was meant to be.”

“I hate to think about it.”

“The world’s a cruel place, huh?”

I nodded.

“Well, that’s why we drink.” He popped the cork and filled my glass. “France’s finest.”

“Thanks,” I said smiling.

It was then, through the mirror, that I saw the man get up. At the same time, I felt my mouth go dry.

“Need something?” said the bartender.

“Got peanuts?” the man said. He came over and leaned on his elbows.

Gathering myself I turned to face him. “Hello,” I said.

“Hi,” he said, surprised.

“You must just think I’m awful,” I said, sincerely.

“Should I?”

“Aren’t you David?” I said.

“Uh, no,” he said.

Suddenly I saw it. They were about the same age. There was a similarity in the face, similar bone structure, but this was definitely not him.

“But I’m Peter,” he said with a smile.

“Sorry,” I said, turning back. “I thought you were a friend.”

“You don’t say,” he said. I could feel him eyeing me up and down.

Before he could say something else, I heard another voice. “Marina?” It was rich and deep and came from over my left shoulder.

I turned and drew in a quick breath, felt my jaw slacken. There stood David, the real David, in all his 6 foot five college football muscle-y glory. I couldn’t believe it. He looked even better in person.

“Shall we get a table?” David said.

“Let’s,” I said, sliding off the bar stool.

The bartender winked at me.

I picked up my glass and followed David, and it wasn’t until I’d hung up my coat and sat down that I noticed the look on his face.

“Something wrong?” I said.

“No,” said David. “Would you like another?”

“Please.” I brought the glass to my mouth and let the last few sips of velvety Merlot slide down my throat. Then I handed it to him.

“To be honest,” he said, eyeing me. “You look different than your pictures.”

“What?” I said.

“I don’t mean to be rude.”

“I--I don’t understand.”

“You just, you look different is all.”

I turned and looked at myself in the mirror beside the table. I had spent forty-five minutes applying a smokey eye, a hundred dollars coloring my hair. Plus, I had natural symmetry. I had blue eyes. Zumba classes had made my legs thin and my butt, well it hadn’t looked this good since college. What in the world was he talking about?

I turned back just in time to see David walk out the door. My glass sat on the bar, still empty.

“Son of a--” I said aloud. I got up slowly. Slowly, I put on my coat.

“Hey,” the bartender beckoned me over. “You okay? Have one on me.”

“Did you see that?” I said.

“I told you,” he said. “The world’s a cruel place.”

I took my glass to the table and sat down. I didn’t want to talk to anyone. I took a sip and closed my eyes. Then I heard footsteps. In my mind, it was David coming back in. He hadn’t left, just run out for something. I took a deep breath and looked up.

“You know,” the imposter said, standing before me. “I think I saw you on Hinge.”