First date

Jack

This was Jack’s first blind date since…well, since the incident. He stared into the mirror. His hair had been coiffed to his own perfection. He just hoped she would like this style too. His favourite feature of his face were his eyes, his grey-blue eyes. When the light was right, they would turn into the colour of the sea, lapping the shore of a Mediterranean isle. He didn’t like much else about himself, thanks to her. The only reason he agreed to this date was because he knew it was the only way to keep his best friend, Olive, quiet.

The alarm went off on his phone, reminding himself that he needed to hurry to make it on time. Ever the planner, Jack knew he had to account for the traffic going into the town centre. He had picked a more public space for the date, a quaint Italian place just outside the usual Saturday busyness of the centre. Always best to be in public space with someone he didn’t really know.

Jack has been sitting there for ten minutes before he saw who he thought, and hoped was his blind date. Taller than the usual women her age, with lustrous and lengthy dark brown hair. He glanced at her hand, noticing the rose she was carrying. In response, he picked up the rose he had brought, waving it to show he was there.

Unsure of what to do, he held out his hand to her, to which she shook, giving a hint of a quizzical look.

They exchanged the usual details (name, location, job), as you do when you first meet someone someone. Now wasn’t the time to show you’re true self, only your better self.

When talk had naturally moved on, whilst eating their starter, about previous relationships, Jack lied. Never had a serious relationship, he said, never found the right person, still looking etc etc. He spouted the usual bull that was often claimed as to why a person was still single. This was definitely not the time to mention he was divorced. That would lead to uncomfortable questions as to what happened, matched with the faces of pity and faked compassion. He wasn’t ready for that, and definitely not ready to say the real reason as to why his marriage had burned up fast.

He congratulated himself for keeping a smile on his face, whilst she spoke of the many men, and one woman, all from different parts of the world, she had been with. He also noted her menu choices when she ordered – no pasta, only salad. This was never a bad thing, but he made an automatic judgement, however misguiding it could be, on the type of person she must be – always caring for her waist line, not about life enjoyment. Jack himself had always eaten less and at a much quicker pace, mostly due to never knowing when he would get his next meal. He found himself monitoring the speed of which he ate his carbonara, forcing himself to slow down if he spotted her noticing the speed.

Jack hoped they wouldn’t ask if they wanted dessert. He had the feeling she wouldn’t want it, and he didn’t want to make her look bad if she said no.

Jack paid for the meal when the bill came, not sure where he liked or disliked that she didn’t reach for her wallet. As they got up to leave at the end of their meal, she held out her hand to him. Jack shook it, throwing her a large smile, saying he would call her. He wouldn’t. He had only agreed to his to see if he could so it. As awkward as it may have been, he had proven he could.

Simer

“Oh you will really like this guy, he’s wonderful. Eyes you could dive in, muscles that would always keep you safe, and large manly hands. Don’t turn up on time, let him wait, build up that suspense.”

Her colleague Olive’s words, went through her head as she drove into town. She would get there early, as she often did, but was happy to wait in the car until the right time, according to what Olly had suggested, She had been on so many of these blind dates, with it never going anywhere, she now took all the advice she could get on what could work. She was obviously doing something wrong. Was she being too keen by turning up on time? Was she putting them off by how much she ate? She very much enjoyed the taste of some dishes, enjoying the way they made her smile it was that delicious. She knew they were going to an Italian restaurant – she could devour a whole bowl of butternut squash risotto. She gave herself a mental reminder to only order salads. Salad could be just as delicious, she lied to herself, convincing herself it would be okay. She had taken up running every evening, to combat her incessant worship of the more fatty foods.

As she sat in the car, waiting for ten minutes after the agreed date, she wondered what he could think of her. After several comments on her looking better if she didn’t tie up her hair in the daily bun, she wore it out, long enough to reach her bum. She wasn’t a fan of being this messy, but if that increased her chances of something real happening, she would do it. If not, next date, she would try something different. Simer grabbed the rose squashed into the side of the car-door. She loved the idea of romance, so the idea of knowing each other through holding a rose caused her heart to grow.

As she walked into the restaurant, Simer spotted a gentleman excessively waving a rose from a table near the middle of the restaurant. Olive wasn’t lying about his eyes, and his muscly arms. As she moved closer, he held out his hand. Did he want her to shake it? She did so, a little sad that he didn’t offer her a hug with those wonderful arms of his.

He was so good looking, Simer felt she had to embellish the truth about her former lovers. Yes, she’s had a lot of dates with a lot of men, but they were mostly from this country. She had to make herself look more attractive and desirable, so those British men became Italian, Moroccan and American men. And just for good measure, she mentioned her affair with a French woman. Didn’t men find that girl on girl action more sexy?

Simer lied when he asked how her meal was, saying it was very delicious and filling. She hoped the wait staff would ask about dessert, but they didn’t, and she was too shy to ask for it herself. As the bill came, Simer stopped herself from reaching for it. She had been told that as a woman, she should wait for him to pay, not take control of it, as she would often do in the past. Men like a woman they can take care of, no need to show that you can take care of yourself. She felt she could write a book on all the advice she had received on how to date ‘properly’. Not sure if would make a gripping read, or even be helpful.

As they had stood up, Simer held out her hand. As much as she wanted that hug, she may as well stick with the way he had started. Even though he had said he would call, she knew he never would. They never did. Another failed attempt at gaining her husband. Maybe she should so what her elder sister had done and wait for her parents to set her up.

Cordelia

Even though they were legally divorced, she knew he was still her property. Didn’t the framed wedding certificate on her wall attest to that? Cordelia gritted her teeth as she spotted him waiting in the restaurant, holding a rose of all things. Screw the restraining order – Cordelia wanted to know what the hell was going on. They had only been fully divorced for two years. Why was it that he didn’t long for her, in the way she always kept him in her mind.

It had been extremely idyllic when they first met. He was charming, handsome and with an incredibly arousing body. What if she had to lie to get him undressed and in her bed. At that point anyway, she didn’t have any criminal convictions. She may have been in trouble with the police for clouting her then boyfriend on a night out, but wasn’t that the common story on a drunken night? Cordelia didn’t continue courting him after that. He had no backbone. He should have lied to the police, it wasn’t that hard a thing to do.

After two years of marriage, she had become a master in getting what she wanted from Jack. All her strategies would work like a charm – slapping him regularly, pretending to be a helpless woman and letting him ’rescue her’, emotionally blackmailing him, and commenting on his weight often. She wanted a man of muscle, not of fat. Often, she would even go as far as banning certain food from the kitchen, citing an allergy the doctor had only just discovered after her last appointment. She of course didn’t go to the doctors, but to Jeremy, the man who worshipped the ground she walked on, and was easy to reach as he lived above her local bowling alley. With Jeremy she only had to use her body, Jack took a lot longer to bend to her will.

He thought the divorce would be concrete and block her out of his life, but no piece of paper could keep Cordelia away. She often watched his house, subtly following him if he left to go anywhere – his workplace, his mother’s (who had always warned him about Cordelia) or what appeared to be a date. She stared at him through the restaurant window, smiling as she saw the location. It was a very public space – was he scared he would get smacked again by the mysterious women he was meeting? Most likely, she thought, as she licked her lips, remembering how he would sometimes cower at her feet at night. She only wanted men to wimper around her, never to authority. Not that they would be believed of course. Cordelia could spin her story of self-defence, and had often done so in the past, with successful results.

She took a sip from her vodka tonic in the bar situated opposite the restaurant, and continued to stare at the girl who appeared o be laughing at one of his jokes. Bitch. She wasn’t pretty at all. Cordelia, with her strawberry blonde hair and trim (lipo-suctioned) waist, could out do her in every sense of the word.

She watched them as they concluded the date, and Cordelia knew they didn’t have a chance in hell of having another date. One day, she would win him back, and he would know she was the only woman for her. It was that confidence that stopped her from following this young woman home, and instead ordering another drink.