Social Skills

Florence was a prolific dater. Inspection of her calendar revealed twenty dates in the past month, two of which had happened on the same day. While some might class her as a “player,” Florence was forthright and true in all her interactions and had such a genuine love of people, got such gratification from their proximity that she might be more aptly described as a social athlete. In a tier-ranked system, she would have stood far and above the competition. She was fun and sharp and had just taken a position at a prestigious banking firm. She was the kind of woman that might be approached on the subway and offered a modeling contract. This steady supply of attention and easy success, served all her life, had come to form a lopsided world view, but she was aware of her peculiarities and her earnest attempts to know others had tempered what would have otherwise been an entitled personality.  

She stood in her apartment, flouncing her hair in the mirror, knowing how nicely it hung. It was full and flowing, framing her face attractively. An alarm went off and started her heart racing. It was time to go. A friend of a friend had lined her up on a blind date and, while Florence had no intention of settling down into anything serious, she appreciated the possibilities of the evening before her. She took a shot of something expensive, applied lipstick, spritzed her perfume, and checked her text messages one more time to remind herself what her date would be wearing. She knew only that his name was Peter and that he’d be in a blue corduroy jacket. She loved corduroy. She felt she understood him already. How underrated, how intellectual corduroy was. 

They were to meet at one of her favorite restaurants, catty-corner from a bakery she frequented. She walked in familiarly, and gave a quick check around and spotted her man: handsome and tall, standing near the bar with a simple colored drink in his clear glass. As she took him in, Florence’s heart skipped a beat and she began to feel a little unsteady for the first time in a year, not quite understanding what it was about him that was so instantly appealing. His lips formed a hard, serious line and there was something vulnerable, almost heartbreaking in his posture. Anticipation grew inside her and she felt she would soon be allowed to touch something very delicate, very fragile. And there was the blue corduroy, with square wooden buttons, a dark green collar, and some light green stitching that circled the wrist. 

His eyes roamed over the crowd and as they passed in her direction, she felt it was a blessing. She almost crossed herself but, instead, gave a light wave and a smile and he smiled back. She worked around a tight cluster of people and took the seat next to his. 

“Hi. You must be Peter. I love your jacket.” 

He laughed and shook his head. “No. I wondered why you were waving at me. You’re looking for a Peter, eh? Well, I wish I was Peter. I’ve been standing here alone for too long. It would be nice to have someone come looking for me.” He lifted his glass in between them. “This is my third. And I told myself I would only buy one.” 

“I would offer to buy you another, but it turns out you’re not my date.” 

“That doesn’t really make sense, though, does it? Here I am, obviously in need of a drink. Just look at me. And you’re saving your money for this Peter character you don’t even seem to know. What if he’s just gotten his 1 year of sobriety token from AA?” 

“I don’t think they call them tokens. And at least I know Peter’s name. All I know about you is that you’re out for free drinks.” 

“Arturo,” he said, extending his hand. “It is very nice to meet you.” 

“Florence.”  

They stood, smiling at each other, feeling the comradery that comes from an openness to new experiences. Florence was delighted by him. She’d expected him to be moody and reserved and his candidness was a welcome surprise. She was excited by what she thought was probably a very complicated soul confident enough for easy self-expression. His fingers stretched out against the silky counter and tilted the napkin slightly to parallel the edge. He finished his drink and did a very subtle and nice gesture to the bar tender. Florence was enticed by his elegance. He leaned against the counter and studied her face. 

“Blind date, Florence? That’s pretty brave of you.” Then something caught his attention over her shoulder and he lifted his drink up high, calling out, “Vanessa! Over here!” 

A beautiful woman rushed past Florence and into Arturo’s arms.  

“Don’t you know what time it is?” Arturo asked incredulously. “We were supposed to meet an hour ago.” 

“I’m sorry I kept you waiting so long,” Vanessa said, out of breath. “I straightened my hair and then I curled it and now,” she waved her hand up uselessly, “it’s in a ponytail. What are you gonna do?” 

She turned and her mouth dropped open. “Florence? Oh my gosh, honey, it’s so great to see you! It’s been, what, five years?” 

Florence felt dizzy from happiness. The girls had gone to the same college and played volleyball together for two years. Vanessa was, as it turned out, Arturo’s younger sister. The three of them marveled over the impromptu reunion and spent a solid three minutes in gasps and exclamations. The girls started talking excitedly, swapping memories from school and sharing what they’d been up to post-graduation. They hadn’t kept in touch, but they’d always had an easy relationship and soon the three of them were laughing as if they’d grown up together. Florence was just about to offer a round of drinks when she felt a tap on her shoulder. 

She turned and there was a man about a foot shorter than Arturo and wearing the exact same jacket, except his shoulders didn’t fill it out quite as nicely. He seemed uncomfortable entering into their conversation. 

“Peter.” Florence couldn’t help but sound a little underwhelmed.  

“Hi, sorry to interrupt. You’re Florence, right?” 

It crossed her mind for a moment that she might say no. “Hi, yes! You’re Peter? This is my friend, Vanessa, and her brother, Arturo. I thought Arturo was my date because of the jacket!” She laughed, trying to put Peter at ease, but he looked Arturo up and down and paled slightly. 

“It’s nice to meet you all. Florence, I’ve actually got a table for us over here, if you’d like to join me?”  

“Yeah, that sounds great. It was so great to see you, Vanessa. And really nice to meet you, Arturo.” 

When Florence and Peter settled at their table, he smiled wryly. “I guess this isn’t technically a blind date, is it?” 

“What do you mean?” 

“Well, we’ve gone on a date before.” 

Florence’s smile dropped suddenly and her eyes widened. It wasn’t like her to be so dramatically caught off guard. Normally, her cheery attitude molded the situation into something predictable that she could clearly read the cues of. She took a closer look and racked her brain. Maybe Arturo’s brilliantness had wiped her mind, but there was nothing familiar about Peter’s face. This had never happened to her before. 

“I’m so sorry, are you sure we’ve met?” 

“Yeah, we went to that pizza place you love so much. Peppi’s, I think?” He gave a weak smile. “You really don’t remember me at all? When I heard your name I thought it might be you.” He folded his hands on the table and smirked, as if he had expected this. “We spent three hours together. You have a dog named Oreo.” 

Florence just shook her head, numbly, “That’s right.” 

Peter picked his fists up and shook them around his ears, “Maracas, remember that?” The meaning was completely lost on Florence and she just shrugged. “You thought it was pretty funny three months ago.” 

Florence sat dumbfounded. She looked down at her hands in her lap. It felt like a weak spot was being pointed out that she’d never seen before. The tables had turned, she’d lost the upper hand, and Peter looked on her with pity. 

“I-I’m really sorry.” 

He reached across the table and gave her shoulder a squeeze. “That’s all right. It wasn’t my best date either.” 

Florence could see the evening unfolding in front of her in agony. How long would they sit here before acknowledging their mutual displeasure? At that moment, the alternate ending of the night strolled over, arm in arm. Vanessa and Arturo approached the table. 

“We just wanted to say goodbye. This place is too busy, we’re going to try and get a table somewhere else. But it was so great to see you,” Vanessa smiled radiantly at Florence, “and to meet you, Peter.” 

Florence saw her last chance at a good evening drifting away and she knew what she had to do. “Wait! You can share our table!” She didn’t need to look at Peter to see how upset this had made him. She could see his expression reflected nervously in Vanessa’s face. She had undoubtedly ruined the date, but she could still salvage the evening. 

“That’s really nice, but maybe we shouldn’t.” 

“Oh no,” Peter said with surprising grace. “Please join us. The more the merrier.” 

The brother and sister sat down hesitantly. For a moment, just looks were exchanged. But Peter broke the silence with such assurance that Florence began to feel small. 

“That’s a great jacket,” he tilted his head to Arturo. “You wear it well.” 

The party began to slowly move forward, with Peter at the helm. Soon, the hesitation evaporated and all four became willing participants in the conversation, although Florence still felt the stinging blow of her mistake. They progressed through the meal with the typical questions being asked: “Where do you know each other from?” “What have you been up to all this time?” “Who set you up?” 

Peter addressed the latter, “Her name is Opal. I’m not sure how Florence knows her, but I get the feeling Florence has a lot of acquaintances.” Florence gave a simple nod and Peter continued, “I work with her. But,” and he took a long drink, “I think the only reason she set this up,” he gave his glass a wave around the table, “is because she’s homophobic.” 

“What do you mean?” Vanessa asked. 

“Well, I’m bi and I’ve been dating men pretty much exclusively for the past three years. If I had to guess, I would say that Opal probably didn’t have our best interest at heart when she set this up. I think it was a little selfish.” 

Florence choked on her wine and then turned red as she began to hiccup. 

Peter’s face softened. “Florence, dear, you’re the only woman I've been on a date with for a long time and I think you’ve made a strong argument against your sex.” 

“When did you realize you were bi?” Arturo asked thoughtfully. 

“I’d known for a long time, but I wasn’t being honest with myself. I’ve always found men just as attractive and interesting as women. More so, even.” his eyes flashed and Arturo gave a warm blush. 

“But if you’re bi, wouldn’t it just be easier to date women? Then you wouldn’t have to deal with coming out or awkward social situations,” Arturo asked this as if he were testing Peter. 

“I like dating whoever I want,” Peter said simply. 

Their plates were finally empty and a waiter came by to gather them up. She held the bill in front of them all, scanning their faces to see who would accept it. Peter stretched out his hand to take it and then placed it squarely in front of Florence. He then turned to Arturo, reaching his arm to touch the back of his chair. “Could I get you a drink at the bar?” Arturo glanced quickly at Vanessa and then nodded. 

The two men stood, their matching corduroy jackets marking them as some sort of duo. 

“Nice to see you again, Florence,” Peter said. “Thanks for dinner.” 

As they walked off, Florence processed her evening slowly. She turned to Vanessa and tried to keep things light.  

“So why did you fly out here?” she asked. 

“Arturo has been feeling really down lately,” Vanessa said. “We’ve been having a lot of late-night phone calls. He’s just feeling really lonely and has been working through some personal things. He had a tough break up last year.” Vanessa finished her wine and smiled devilishly. “Honestly, I think he’s gay.”