Love in All Honesty

“Why do I need to be here?”

That question hangs on my mind as I enter the artsy cafe. As if things have not been that bad in school already, upon coming home, my mother reprimanded me to go meet another “husband prospect.” Yes, you heard it right. Husband – not best friend, not boyfriend, not a live in partner, but a husband.  As the eldest in the family, it has become my utmost duty and pledge to get tied before my other siblings. Yesterday, I found my favorite shirt on the floor, filthy and bleached – there and then I knew, not only did my parents want me out but also my younger sisters. They’re both in long term relationship.

In school this morning, one of my kids accidentally ate chocolate and when I saw him barely breathing, I carried him as fast as I could to the clinic – in high heels. His parents complained when I called them about the incident, and next thing I knew, I was in the office explaining in front of the principal. At the back of my mind, I was chanting “Please do not fire me. Please do not fire me.” I knew he is allergic to chocolates but when you have 25 kids in the classroom, it is nearly impossible to watch their every move.  Gladly, my principal just gave me my first warning even though later that day, a kid punched his classmate, and two girls cried because the boy from the other section told them that they are fat.

“What a day…”

I walk towards the table nearest the painting of Starry Night by Van Gogh , sit on the white couch, and wait for the arrival of my husband prospect no. 13. It’s time to play pretend again.

“Hello.”

A big man wearing a brown shirt with a sign “ Ecstasy” is standing infront of me. His cheeks are so chubby that it’s like he is hiding marshmallows inside his mouth. He has an almost translucent skin, hair is black and wavy, and framing his black eyes is a pair of round spectacles.

“Hi, do I know you?”

“I am Jed.”

“So, you are my husband prospect no. 13….I meant, blind date?”

“Your mother said that you will be wearing a black dress so I figured that you are my date,” he said and  scratched his head.

“ How did you know my mother?” I asked.

“We met in the Gallery, and she was interested in an art piece that I made,” he replied. “Can I take a seat?”

“I’m sorry. Yeah, please sit down.”

 I gestured for him to sit. He bumps his burly arms on the table and the table rattles. He mouths sorry and sits straight on the couch. I laughed.

“I am sorry,” he said.

“Is this your first time?”

“Yes. I’m sorry. I am not usually this nervous,” he said and looks at his clasped hands lying on the table.

“You will get used to it. I can even teach you how to survive you first blind date.”

He looks at me and smiles. He has a perfect set of white teeth, and when you look closer at his eyes, they are clear brown.

“Teach me then,” he said.

“Sure thing. Let us order first before we proceed to our first lesson,” I suggested. He nods and raises his hand.

A waitress wearing long white socks, and a cute school girl outfit came and took our order.

“ Why did you order hamburger?” I asked after the waitress left.

“It’s a complete meal,” he said. “When I hold a burger, it’s magical. I can feel how the dough was kneaded by expert hands, I can feel the meat , the lettuce, onions, and tomatoes swirling their flavors in my mouth, I can  feel the moistness of these ingredients and the hot sauce all moving inside and infusing me with the energy to do all my works..” He stares into space and licks his lips slowly. This is getting weird.

I gulped.

“Why did you order salad,” he asked.

“I am vegetarian,” I lied. “So, what is your view on dating?” I asked.

“Dating for me is all about honesty. What you see is what you get,” he said in an almost automatic response. “How about you?”

“Don’t you want to impress your first date?”

“I know I am not visually attractive, and that takes away any good first impression. Dating is being comfortable for who you are in front of a stranger.”

I pause and swallow the depth of his words.

“Why did you agree with the date set up by my mother?”

“I just want to find love, I guess,” he chuckles.

“ Love arrives,” I countered.

“Yes, but love also needs to be found.”

“ Love takes time.”

“Yes, but sometimes, love just happens”

“Love does not make any sense.”

“Does it have to make sense?”

I pause and ponder on my rebuttal.

“Here’s your order ma’am and sir,” the cute waitress said and placed our foods on the table.

“Why did you agree to meet me, may I ask?”

I rest my chin on my palm and play with my fork.

“I had to say yes to my mother.”

“Do you enjoy having blind dates?”

“ No.”

“Why can’t you just say no then?”

He’s right. Why can’t I just say no? Maybe deep inside, I am also enjoying all of these. I pretend to be someone I am not in dates. I pretend to be vegetarian, I pretend to be so bitter about love.  But deep inside, I know and I am hoping that somewhere out there, love exists. Love is there. I go to blind dates to argue with these people, making them believe that love is a lie and I am such a hypocrite because what I crave for is love. Yes, I want love.

“Can I taste that hamburger?” I asked.

He sliced the burger into two and gave me its half.

“Thank you.”

I looked at him and gave the most genuine smile in years.