e lollipops, and the complaint ended up escalating all the way up to management. It was impressive.”
“My mother,” I said, shaking my head and laughing. “Let me guess: you now have lollipops back at every station?”
“We have dum-dums and blow pops,” he said with a smile. “Sometimes, she comes by just to check and make sure we are keeping up with it. She usually brings some kind of goodie though, so we welcome her surprise inspections.”
I sat there listening to him telling stories about my mom, kind of wondering what my mom was doing spending so much time in the bank. I guessed as a retired, divorced woman, she didn’t have a lot of other things on her plate. She needed more friends, maybe a group of women her own age that she could trade recipes with, gossip with, and try to start a dating service with, since she seemed to like to set me up so much. This one, however, I had asked for, ready to get rocking and rolling in the dating world and figuring the safest option at that point was to try someone my mother picked out for me. It probably wouldn’t work, but at least I gave it a try, and she was over the moon about me trusting her
My mother was a nut, not necessarily in a bad way, but the kind of woman that would hug you to tears, feed you until you couldn’t move, and then set you up with a guy she met at the grocery store. I wasn’t kidding about that, either. She once tried to set me up with a guy that she met at the grocery store. I told her that I wanted to keep my skin on my body and not have my date wearing it around his apartment, so when she tried to set me up, to make sure it was a little more legit than the random guy at the corner store. She was definitely a handful.
“So, what is your favorite color?” Jeff asked.
“Um, blue,” I said with a smile.
“Me too,” he said. “That’s one for one. Okay a little harder. What is your favorite sport?”
“Well my favorite sport to watch is football, but to play, it would be…probably volleyball,” I said.
“That’s cute,” he replied condescendingly. “I love when women want to get involved in football.”
I ignored that comment and tried to focus on the things that we had in common. There were a few of them, but they were all things like favorite color and favorite type of soup, things that held no bearing on a relationship whatsoever. We continued our small talk, and I tried to be as attentive as I possibly could. I cracked at least five jokes over the time we drank wine and ate appetizers, but he didn’t seem to find me funny in the least. I couldn’t tell if it was because he didn’t get my humor or because he wasn’t smart enough to understand the joke. I hadn’t yet figured that one out. All I knew was that I was finding myself hilarious tonight, wondering what had me so riled up, while Mr. Boring Face across from me just stared at me or completely ignored my jokes completely. I was definitely leaning toward the idea that he was not smart enough to understand what I was saying.
When it came to his jokes, though, he thought he was the laugh of the town. His jokes sucked, and most were mildly offensive, but he laughed his ass off in a high-pitched, honking tone that made everyone else in the restaurant glance over at us. This date was starting to take a turn, and apparently, my own humor had fallen so flat that there was no real way for me to bring us back from the brink. I slid slightly down in my seat, forcing a smile every time he erupted into laughter. In reality, I just wanted to throw a buttered roll at him and walk out of the restaurant, but I promised my mom I would at least try.
“So, you are a librarian,” he said. “Who are your favorite authors?”
“I like classic novels,” I said, excited to talk about something I was interested in. “I love Tolstoy, J.D. Salinger, Jane Austen. You know, the classics.”
“I’ve never heard of them,” he sighed.
“Wait, wait. You’ve never heard of J.D. Salinger? Like Catcher in the Rye? Or Jane Austen, who wrote Pride and Prejudice?”
“Nope,” he said, popping a piece of food in his mouth.
He continued on, talking about himself and how important he apparently thought he was. I guessed that “important” did not include educated or interesting in the least at that point. It was starting to get more than frustrating. I sighed on the inside, trying to figure out how I ended up on a date with a man that had never heard of Catcher in the Rye. I was pretty sure there was a time period where that was required reading in middle school. Why couldn’t I meet a guy that understood me, or at least listened to me? If you’d never heard of someone like Tolstoy, fine, but at least be interested in finding out who they were instead of rattling off your newest author loves that you bought their book on Amazon and read half of it. Try to have some level of intelligence and inquisitive nature, and I could totally see myself doing the same for him.
I was starting to think that it was time that I settled for someone that was uneducated in literature and didn’t find me funny, two things I found to be my best qualities. How could I even start to think that I could do that, though? I had come here to have an actual date without any preconceived notions, but did that mean that I was supposed to settle for someone less than what I thought was worthy? But what was worthy anymore? It obviously wasn’t becoming someone’s regret text. That was for sure.
I finished the rest of the date, mostly listening to him talk, and thanked him for a lovely evening. I could see he was considering a good night kiss, but I was quick to turn my head and start heading for the cab that I insisted I call instead of having him go out of his way to take me home. He didn’t argue with me at all, so I figured, why fight it? Just grab a cab and have some peace and quiet for a few minutes.
When I got home, I went directly upstairs and changed for bed, feeling mentally exhausted from that date. I laid there going over the date, minute by minute, but my mind stopped me by bringing Ollie back into the picture. I tried to fight it, having done so all night long, but I was too exhausted now, so I let him flood my mind for the time being. I knew it wouldn’t last forever, but I was proud of myself for getting through the date without obsessing over Ollie the whole time. I realized while staring up at my ceiling, that I had the same feelings for Ollie then as I did in college, only they were a little denser from the hot crazy sex we had. I was crushing on Ollie hard. There was no way around it. He was everything I thought I wanted in a man, but I was now having a hard time trusting that instinct since I had based all my romantic notions around him. Either way, I knew there was no way that I could be with him, even if I decided that it was what I wanted.
I could still remember spending all day with Lillie and Ollie, being completely jealous of their relationship, and going home and laying in the bed, staring at the ceiling. I would fantasize about a life where I ended up with Ollie, happy, in love, and in a relationship that blew everyone else out of the water. My fantasies would range anywhere from traveling the world together, to settling down in Madison and having kids together. Now, I was left doing the same exact thing. Only this time, I wondered what the circumstances would be, and what I would have to do to finally be good enough for Ollie Anderson. Apparently, I had been good enough to sleep with but was lacking something that would make him want to pursue a relationship with me.
I pushed Ollie from my mind and took a deep breath, trying to concentrate on the good things that happened on the date. We had a couple small things in common. That was good. We had both ordered our steaks cooked the same way, and that would make dinners at home easier. And he had paid for dinner without comment or question, which showed he had manners and was willing to treat me to something nice. I sighed, realizing I was stretching it. Hell, it was the small victories that mattered, right?
Chapter 17
Ollie
Jack’s wasn’t too crowded, and never actually was, which was one of the reasons I picked the place to begin with. I figured it would be hard to get to know someone when you had to scream over everyone else to talk. The other reason I picked it was because it was across town from the college, and I had never been there with Lillie. I had been there a couple of ti
mes during college with the guys, but never with her, which meant my distractions were at a minimum. I stood to the side, waiting for Sandra to arrive, smiling big when she walked through the door in a Packers jersey tied at the waist, revealing her belly button and a pair of low rise jeans. She looked pretty sexy; I couldn’t deny it.
“Hey there,” she said, leaning in and hugging me. “This is a cool place. I’ve never been here before.”
“I came here a couple times in college, but I like it because it’s never overly crowded,” I replied.
“Oh, you’re a university boy?” she asked, smiling. “I’ve heard you boys are trouble.”