Why does the Universe hate me?

“Blackbird singing in the dead of night,

Take these broken wings and learn to fly,

All your life.

You were only waiting for this moment to arise.”

The Beatles song softly in the background as I waited at the bar of the restaurant. My foot tapped to the beat of the music as I surveyed the various couples scattered around candle lit tables. Why did I allow myself to be talked into this? It had been almost a year since the finalization of my soul-sucking divorce. I needed a man like a I needed a hole in my head, but I was tired of seeing my sister's worried looks and caved to her persistent badgering.

It was ten minutes past the time that my date and I agreed upon and I was half hoping that he'd stand me up, and half pissed that he might. I arrived ten minutes early, so I’d been sitting alone in this romantic setting for twenty minutes now. Because that didn’t look pathetic at all, right? Tell that to Mr. McHottie sitting two chairs down the bar from me. I almost wished he was my date. He was all dark hair, piercing eyes, and sexy forearms. His suit jacket hung off the back of his chair, button up shirt sleeves rolled up with loosened tie and with what looked like a scotch in his hand. Never trust a man that liked scotch, even if he belonged on some glossy magazine. I had decided upon noticing him when I arrived that completely ignoring him was good for my sanity.

Checking the photo on the dating app, I scanned the faces around me to make sure I hadn’t missed my actual date. Maybe he cat fished me. Was it only women who did the catfishing or could men do it too? I had no freaking clue. This was my first foray into online dating…as in ever. I had met my ex-husband the old-fashioned way, through friends, who he got through the divorce. Go figure.

A half-drunk glass of Merlot sat in front of me, dark red lipstick decorating the rim. At this rate all my lipstick would be transferred to the glass instead of highlighting my lips. I wondered if the dark shade of red I chose gave the wrong impression, or the right one. Maybe my date didn’t like women who wore makeup, like my ex-mother-in-law. Not having to deal with her snide looks was one of many things my divorce gifted me with. And with that thought, I decided to reduce the amount of Merlot in the lipstick-stained glass. Warmth infused my empty stomach, helping the muscles relax throughout my tense body. My phone buzzed and the text flashed across my screen. My sister.

Twister Sister: Has he shown up yet?

Me: Nope.

Twisted Sister: Maybe you should message him.

Me: And say what? Hey loser, you lack punctuality?

Twisted Sister: Ha. Ha. Just give it a few more minutes.

Me: If he ends up being a serial killer I’m gonna come back and haunt you, and I promise you sis, it won’t be pretty.

Twisted Sister: Of course you will. Keep me posted.

I placed the phone back on the table and looked up to search the sea of faces in the restaurant. My handsome bar mate was watching me. I blushed like a twelve-year-old schoolgirl and looked away. Geez. I spied the back of a man at the hostess station and my heart gave a nervous flutter only to relax as a woman approached him with a hug. And that wasn’t my date, he belonged to someone else. Slumping on the raised chair, I huffed a frustrated sigh. Or maybe it was relief. Another five minutes had passed, and I was pretty much resigned to the distinct possibility that I was being stood up. On my first date in God knows how many years, no less. I mean, did the Universe hate me or something? Because I was beginning to believe that the Universe did not have my back. At least I got a kick ass glass of wine out of it. I’m pretty sure I just found my new favorite red and the way this night was going I might just make a date night with a whole bottle, a bubble bath and one of my book boyfriends. They rarely let me down.

After another five minutes of awkwardness, I was done.

I was going to finish up my glass and get the heck out of this swanky, couple ridden, self-esteem stealing bar. I drained my glass and dug around my purse for my debit card. I looked up to scan one more time, only to catch the eye of the last person I ever wanted to see again.

My ex-husband.

FML. I mean, seriously Universe? Of all the fancy restaurants in the entire city, and he had to walk into this one? I felt like a bad joke.

He blinked at me like a demented owl as his fiancé saddled up to him, her hand sliding up his chest over his nice suit. She looked over and upon seeing me, her body stiffened, as if I was the other woman, not her. I had heard from a mutual friend he had proposed to her two weeks after he left me, for her. And yes, they were together before he left me. Fun times. I turned my body, facing away from my past to face the bar.

My phone buzzed with a message from the dating app. It seemed my date wasn’t going to make it as his cat had an emergency. His. Cat. Had. An. Emergency. I’ll admit, the idea of having hysterics in the middle of the bar was looking like a real possibility. I stared at my phone for a full minute completely at a loss on how to handle my life. I mean, I’m a decent person. I pay my taxes, wait for old ladies to cross the street, and resisted the temptation to go all Carrie Underwood on my ex’s truck. And let me tell you, it was a close call.

“Why does the Universe hate me?” I wondered out loud to no one and everyone.

I glanced in the mirror behind the bar and noticed that my ex and his fiancé, aka, my husband-stealing replacement, moving towards me. Oh crap, oh crap, oh crap, I internally chanted trying to erase the appearance of panic. Where was the bartender? I needed to pay my bill and disappear like a ninja. Maybe the bartender was on a break? A really, really poorly timed break.

“Are you okay?” someone asked.

His voice was like honey and gravel, a strange mixture for sure, but did a whole lot for my girl parts. I looked over at my bar mate, who during my complete internal meltdown, had approached me and was looking a little concerned.

“No, no I’m not. I swear to God I will love you forever if you pretend to be my date. My scumbag, cheating ex-husband and his fiancé just showed up and are heading this way and my actual date just messaged me that his cat had an emergency and isn't coming and tonight was the first time since my divorce that I decided to even go out with someone of the male variety and I’m completely freaking out,” I verbally vomited.

Mr. Hot Bar Mate raised one deliciously, sexy eyebrow and I flushed in mortification. Oh. My. God. Did I just blurt that all out? Please, in all that was holy, let the floor open and swallow me down into a dark abyss. Or I could just become invisible. That would be a completely acceptable outcome. Anything really to just make this all go away.

“Um, on second thought, you can just forget everything I just said. We can just pretend this conversation never happened. I’m really, really praying that aliens will abduct me now. I’ll just disappear into some scary spaceship that looks like a dentist office, and I’ll make do. I think I’d rather face torture than the last few minutes of my life," I blurted out.

He smiled and the world stopped. I thought he was hot before, but when he smiled I swear the gates of heaven opened up and a halo of golden light bathed him in holy hotness. And did I mention he had freaking dimples? I was a sucker for dimples! Now I was freaking out for a completely different reason. My cheeks were probably redder than my fading lipstick by now.

“Torture?” he asked.

“By aliens,” I confirmed.

“I’m curious. What would these aliens look like?” He asked.

“My ninth grade P.E. teacher, Mr. Kusak. We always wondered if he was human or not. His mustache completely looked like a seventies por-,” I cut myself off, hating my runaway tongue. “Uh, anyway. Uh, you know.”

Babbling. I was babbling like a looney tune on Saturday morning cartoon rerun. And that was the time my ex called out to me.

“Letty?” his voice just this side of disapproving.

Or maybe it was my brain that heard the ever-narcissistic disapproval in his voice, constant, like the rash that just wouldn’t go away. I think my eyes might have bugged out slightly at my bar mate.

He surprised me by stepping in closer, wrapped his arm around my waist and whispered in my ear, “Just go with it.”

Man, oh man, his smell was ten times better than his voice. Maybe. It was kind of a toss-up. Whatever cologne he used was well worth the money, I promise. His hand gently squeezed my side and moved us, so we were facing my past.

“Oh, uh, hi Miles,” I said lamely to my ex while trying not to hyperventilate at my current crap show that was my life.

“It's been a while,” Miles commented, eyeing the closeness of my new friend. A closeness that was making my stomach do acrobats, Olympic level tumble routines, I might add.

“Yeah,” I responded, leaning into my savior. I mean, a girl's gotta sell it, right?

“Aren’t you going to introduce us to your friend?” Miles's fiancé, Amber, asked in her high pitched voice.

I could, if I knew his name. I glanced up at him and he gave me a panty dropping smile that had my body heat reaching dangerous levels.

“I’m Trevor. Letty has told me so much about you,” he said, pulling me in even tighter.

I noticed he didn’t offer his had for them to shake. Was that a moment of solidarity from my new stranger friend? They blinked. Ha! Take that, you two timing ingrates, my internal voice cheered.

“All good, I hope,” Miles chuckled nervously.

“It was…colorful and quite descriptive,” Trevor said with a pleasant expression.

“Uh, Right. Well, we should get to our table,” Miles said after an awkward moment.

“Of course. It was a pleasure meeting you two,” Trevor responded smoothly as I somehow been reduced to a mute. A befuddled, raging mute? Uhhh.

“Likewise. Letty, it was good seeing you,” he responded.

I just gave them a tight smile and watched them make a hasty retreat. Their table was on the other side of the restaurant, thankfully. I turned and gave Trevor a hug, and then realized I was full on hugging a stranger, and liking every moment of it, so I stepped back.

“Thank you. That was the first time we’ve seen each other since everything got finalized,” I said.

“It was entertaining, to say the least," he remarked. I laughed.

“Welcome to the walking disaster that is called my life. Wait until the end of the credits for real life bloopers,” I warned him.

“Well after all that, let me buy you a drink,” he offered.

I gave him a huge smile.

“You know, I think I'll take you up on that. I just discovered my new favorite Merlot tonight,” I informed him. “I belong to a monthly wine club from Bright Cellars and I’m always looking for new experiences.”

“Yeah? I’ll have to check them out. My name’s Trevor Stone, by the way,” he introduced himself.

“I’m Letitia Danvers. My friends, and cheating ex-husbands, call me Letty. Did you know that you and the restaurant both have the same name in them?” I observed.

“Ah, well, I kind of own the Stone Table,” he informed me as he pulled out my chair in an act of chivalry. “Well, part owner with my brother. He’s the Chef, I run the business.”

“I couldn’t imagine running any business with my sister. She’s the crazy one in the family,” I told him.

“Really? That’s intriguing and a little surprising,” he chuckled. “Now tell me more about these aliens.”

I laughed as the bartender decided to make an appearance. I indicated that I wanted another glass of Merlot as Trevor moved his coat and glass to the chair next to me. The Beatles song played in my head from earlier and I wondered if it was a sign or an omen? Could I learn to fly again? And as Trevor and I talked, thoughts of my ex and his fiancé disappeared into the dead of night. I guess for a first nondate-date, tonight hadn’t turned out too bad. Perhaps the Universe didn’t completely hate me after all.

I hope you enjoyed this short piece of fiction. I added some musical inspiration in some of the links. If you did enjoy, please, please, please give me a heart and share with others! Thank you!