3 cherries

The little pictures of food began to swim as Amber stared intently at the oversized menu, coming to grips with the possibility that the worst had happened…her date had stood her up. She refocused her eyes on the familiar options just to maintain the pretense of calm. She had no need to look at the menu. Since her New Year’s resolution to find a spouse by the end of the calendar year, she had eaten nearly everything on it and knew exactly what she planned to order. This hadn’t always been her first date testing ground. At the start of this quest, she had ventured to numerous other more interesting places, but with some trials and many errors she narrowed down this popular fast casual eatery as the perfect place. She had learned her lesson that going to her usual favorites would influence her judgement of the date by their judgement of her taste in restaurants and make it so she could never go back to those places without torturous flashbacks. The reel included the sushi disaster where she nearly choked trying to gracefully eat a large roll, the Ethiopian calamity where her pants ripped when she reached for the perfect bite, or, the worst, the Great Beer Garden Foot Truck Grilled Cheese Catastrophe where her occasional lactose intolerance caused her to become much more acquainted with the portapotty than her date. She shivered with the memory and covered it by rubbing her upper arm in universal sign of cold, just in case anyone was watching.

She surveyed the room to admire her control environment, where she could evaluate her test subjects in a pool of bland neutrality. The restaurant’s style faintly echoed a third hand interpretation of something once beautiful watered down to be digestible for any palate. The cozy but not intimate dining room contained mix of checked table clothed tables and waxy red booths spaced out enough to maintain a level of noise that allowed you to hear the other person without everyone else hearing you. The best parts were that it was cheap enough that she could go dutch when the date wasn’t going well and she wasn’t likely to meet anyone she knew here. Most important on a night like tonight when she anticipated having to make a stealth exit if her date never arrived. She tried to resist the urge to look at her phone again, knowing that her watch would indicate any call or text, and distracted herself by reviewing her dating strategy in her head.  

She often visualized her challenge like playing a slot machine. She never gambled, worried about addiction and moral collapse, but she imagined that feeling of anticipation with each spin, like the moment before the drop in the roller coaster. She relished that instant feeling before something enormous shifts -  the moment before opening an email that always has the potential for life changing news. In her mind, anyone can win that jackpot, those 3 shining cherries, if they played long enough. If she just kept putting in her pennies, finding dates through any means possible, then she would find The One and she would know instantly. The signs would be sharing similar interests, love of family, and a medium level of nerdiness. The conversation would flow easily and she would imagine their life together. For her, the ultimate test of compatibility was when they offered to share food with her. She sighed her dating mantra, “here come the cherries”, as her date walked in.

He was properly apologetic about this tardiness and had a very decent excuse. Attractive in a way that wasn’t blinding, he had an easy conversation style that sailed through topics with the grace of a speed skater. Even before they finished the appetizer, they had covered all the usual first date chatter and moved into deeper second date territory. When he offered to switch plates halfway through dinner, she felt that familiar constriction in her chest, as the gremlin of possibility squeeze her windpipe. The adrenaline trickled down her arms and she could almost visualize the two cherries falling into place. As the waiter cleared their dinner plates, she realized that he had passed all her usual tests with flying colors.  

As she counted out the months to the earliest she could reasonably expect a wedding, the waiter handed her the dessert menu. Her mind still in the established intimacy of the daydream, she told the waiter, “We’ll split the Mega Brownie Explosion.” He nodded, saying “great choice”, and grabbed the menu back from her and walked away.  She got a lump in her throat thinking about how they could split a sundae every anniversary to commemorate this moment. As she smiled over to her date, the lump fell hard into the pit of her stomach at his uncomfortable, apologetic look.

“I’m sorry. I don’t really eat dessert.” He said.

“Oh.” She said, sounding more judgmental than surprised.

“Yeah, chocolate gives me migraines and I never really had a sweet tooth. So it’s just not my thing.” He said.

“Ok.” She said, limiting her words to cover her panic. She didn’t really know how to get out of this awkward spiral.

“But you should definitely enjoy it. I’ll just get a coffee or something.” he said.

“No, no. That’s way too much for just me. We can just cancel it.” She said, looking around for the waiter.

As usual with her luck, she saw the waiter proudly carrying the fastest made dessert she had ever known. He plopped it down in the middle of the table and placed two spoons with a flourish, handles facing each of them. He looked at each of them expectantly, not yet catching the mood.

She gave him a tight lipped smile and said, “Thanks, Matt. That was fast.”

“Yeah, I had it ready for you.” Matt, the waiter, said with a proud smile. “Can I get you anything else?”

Since the waiter was still looking at her, Amber said, “I think he would like a coffee.” She waved her hand vaguely in the direction of her date.

“Yes, could I do a decaf cappuccino please?” he said.

“Right away. Anything else for you, Amber?” the waiter said.

“No, thanks. I’m all set.” She said, looking overwhelmed by her now solo task in front of her.

The rest of the date seemed to pass in slow motion. The daydream had turned into one of those nightmares where you try to run but you can’t move your limbs. She felt exhausted, trying to push through the heavy awkwardness with stilted conversation. When they finally parted ways with stiff half hug, she lamented her terrible luck in dating. The letdown made her feel queasy as she thought about all the time and effort she put into these dates. It had seemed so close for a second there only to crash at the last minute. But she was determined. Even if the odds are stacked against her, any given spin could be the jackpot. So she just kept putting in her pennies and waiting for those 3 cherries to fall into place perfectly.