One and Done

I glanced in the mirror over the bathroom sink. I was pale and perspiring and my eyes had that look a rabbit gets when it spots a dog running toward it at full speed.

"I can't go through with this," I said, clutching my cell phone in one hand while pulling at my hairline with the other. I counted six gray hairs. I was only thirty-five years old and decided I was doomed to look like Grandma Moses before the decade was out. "I'm going to text him and cancel. My stomach is heaving and I'm pretty sure I'll never be able to eat dinner."

I put my hand against my cheek; it was warm. "I think I'm running a fever. I could be contagious. It wouldn't be fair to get someone else sick, too. Right?"

"Will you stop?" said my friend Debbie, exasperation evident in her voice. "You've been divorced for two years and haven't been out on a single date. You're nervous, that's all. It's just dinner, not a lifetime commitment."

"I can't believe I let you talk me into signing up for that dating website. Do you know how many creepy messages I've gotten? This was not your best idea."

Debbie sighed. "I know a lot of people who have met their significant other online and are happy. Besides, you said this Henry person was different. The two of you have been emailing each other for weeks now. He's probably been looking forward to seeing you all day. Do you really want to disappoint him? If he is genuinely a nice guy, would that be fair?"

As the child of a Catholic mother and a Jewish father, my go-to response to this sort of question is guilt. Feeling guilty about not letting someone merge into traffic in front of me even when I'm late for work, or not tipping at Starbucks even though my latte was half foam, or being rude to a coworker even if he was a backstabbing, idea-stealing lowlife, all of these situations will cause me to be guilt-ridden for hours afterwards, if not longer.

"Fine. I'll go. But if I don't have a good time, I will never let you hear the end of it." I hung up and threw my phone on my bed.

I scanned my closet for an appropriate outfit. We were meeting at the mall for dinner so I figured Henry was most likely taking me to Bravo Cucina or The Cheesecake Factory. I hemmed and hawed between two dresses until my phone dinged with the notification that my date would begin in thirty minutes. I stepped into the royal blue dress, zipped it up, pushed my feet into a pair of nude slides and left the house before I could change my mind.

Once I got to the mall my heart was pounding and my palms were sweating. I tried to slow my breathing so I didn't hyperventilate. I found a parking space at the far end of the lot (so if Henry was watching he wouldn't see which car was mine; you know, in case he was a stalker), and proceeded on shaking legs to the entrance where an old-fashioned carousel just inside the double doors whirled around with frightened toddlers hanging on for dear life.

I feel ya, kids, I thought as I looked around for Henry.

That's when I spotted him sitting on a bench a few yards away. The reason I knew it was Henry is because he was wearing a black polo shirt and black jeans just like he said he would. Unfortunately, that was all I recognized. The man on the bench was at least two hundred pounds overweight and had huge dark bags under his eyes. Now, don't get me wrong. I was a good twenty-five pounds overweight myself at the time and I actually prefer a guy with a little meat on his bones. I've always been a sucker for the big teddy-bear sort of man.

The problem was that Henry's appearance did not match his online photos. They were either ancient pictures or they'd been heavily (pardon the pun) Photoshopped. He'd also said his physique was "about average" in his profile, where I had clearly stated that I was plump but trying to slim down. Not only was I disappointed that he'd been dishonest with me already, but I wondered about the truthfulness of the rest of what he'd told me. Was he really a successful SAP consultant who traveled all over the country for work? Was he really single, not married and looking for some action on the side? I hesitated, tempted to turn and leave, but he saw me and headed toward me, smiling.

"Kate?"

"Yes. You must be Henry."

"I am. Wow, you look exactly like your pictures." He looked me up and down, then focused his gaze on my chest.

I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from pointing out that he didn't resemble his photos at all.

"Are you hungry?" asked Henry. I nodded.

Instead of turning to the left into Cucina Bravo or taking the escalator downstairs to The Cheesecake Factory, Henry made a beeline for . . . the food court. Did I mention I was in my thirties? He was closer to forty, by the way. Really?? The food court?

"Where would you like to eat?" asked Henry, lifting his arm and pointing to the various options. "There's Sbarro if you like Italian, or that place in the middle has Chinese food, and there's a hoagie shop in the corner there. Or pizza. The pizza place is having a special on garlic pizza today. I checked it out before you got here. I don't know anyone who doesn't like pizza. Does that sound good to you?"

My shoulders drooped as I realized even the TGI Friday's on the first floor wasn't in the running. "Sure. That's fine," I said.

Henry ordered two sodas and a large white pie and we took our food over to a table next to a trash can in the dining area. It was crowded and noisy and my plan was to choke down one slice and make my exit.

I'd Googled "what do you talk about on a first date" earlier that day since I was pretty rusty at making this sort of conversation. "So, you told me you have a daughter and a son. She's seventeen and he's fifteen, if I recall. How are they doing? Enjoying school?"

Henry finished his third slice before replying. "My son is having a bit of a rough time. He got suspended after they found marijuana in his locker. I haven't seen my daughter in months. She left home and is traveling with a carnival."

I laughed. "Good one!"

Henry glared at me. "It's not funny. Before she left she stole my coin collection and my stereo and pawned them. Cost me a fortune to get that stuff back."

I apologized and stayed silent while he ate the rest of the pizza with the exception of the one slice I'd taken. I felt awkward, but I hadn't thought he was serious. My mother had often threatened to run away and join the circus when my brothers and I would get on her nerves, but I'd never known anyone who'd actually done it. Or had their child do it.

And the kicker was that Henry had been somewhat disapproving of my parenting style in one of his emails, accusing me of being overprotective of my son because I liked to know where he was and who he was with after school, and making him adhere to a curfew. (By the way, my son ended up graduating college, has a decent job, and has never smoked or used drugs. Maybe my parenting had something to do with it, maybe he's just wired to be a good kid, but who did Henry think he was judging me when his kids were having so much trouble?)

Once Henry finished eating we threw away our trash. Before I could make my escape, Henry asked if I'd like to shop a bit, maybe check out the bookstore on the lower level. Being a writer, books are my weakness, and I said yes. Plus I felt, you guessed it, guilty that our date had only lasted a half hour so far and I knew it had taken Henry an hour to drive to my neighborhood. I was a silly, people-pleasing girl in those days.

While we were browsing through the travel books Henry told me stories of the places he'd visited for work. San Francisco, Atlanta, Albuquerque. All cities on my bucket list that I had yet to see for myself. I actually started to relax and enjoy myself a little. Until a sound, like two Velcro strips being pulled apart, caused me to glance up at Henry. He averted his eyes and moved quickly away to the history section. Remember, he had devoured almost an entire garlic pizza. The odor was so foul my eyes watered and I started to gag. A couple of teenagers walked by, the boy pointing at me and laughing, the girl wrinkling up her nose and staring at me, horror and disgust written all over her face.

It was at this point that I believed I had given this date as much of a chance as it deserved. More of a chance, to be honest. I located Henry and told him I was tired and needed to get home. He made a move to hug me, or kiss me, I'm not sure what his plan was, but I backed away, gave him a finger wave, and hightailed it out of the mall. It took me months to regain the courage to go on another date.