Page 1 of Dating Your Grumpy Neighbor
1
FELICITY
My best friend, Christina, told me that if I was ever going to find a date for my cousin Jane’s wedding, I was going to need the assistance of a dating app. She had recommended that I try out one called,Smitten. The name has been a bit misleading since “smitten” is the last word I would use to describe the predominant emotion I feel at the end of these dates. I would say it’s more like—annoyance, panic, insulted, and shock—to name a few.
First, there was the Drunken Magician, that poured red wine into my bag and seemed genuinely surprised that his trick didn't work, and neither did my cell phone afterward. Then there was the Road Rage Bandit that got so upset that someone dared to signal to get in front of him that he honked, and the old man in the other car waved his gnarled middle finger out the window at us, which set him off into a high-speed chase that hand me holding the "oh shit" handle and praying that he wouldn’t drive us off the road. Followed by the Mistaken Texter, who, while in the middle of our date, texted me instead of his friend about how he regretted agreeing to this blind date.
I can try and find the silver lining with the best of them, but with these guys, I really felt like I was scraping the bottom of the barrel. Christina even seemed surprised by the string of unlucky matches I seemed to be having with the app.
Which leads me to tonight, sitting across from a handsome investment banker with an unusually small bladder and an inability to keep from answering his phone every ten minutes.
"This should only at a few minutes," he says, picking up his cell phone for the third time since our food arrived and excusing himself.
“I guess so,” I say, holding my hand in front of my mouth as I talk around a mouthful of mushroom ravioli.
But he’s already got his back to me and weaving through the tables filled with happy couples.
I can’t help but smile at the older couple sitting two tables away. They look like they’ve been married for decades, but they’re still acting like two teenagers wrapped up in their first taste of puppy love.
“Can I get you another?” the waiter appears next to me and gestures to my nearly empty wine glass.
"I'm good, thank you," I tell him but nod nonchalantly over my shoulder at the older couple. “Do you know if they are here celebrating?”
The waiter smiles without having to look. “They’re here celebrating their forty-year wedding anniversary.”
“Forty years?” I sneak a peek over my shoulder at them again and then turn back to the waiter. “If only we could all be so lucky in love.”
The smile on the waiter falters slightly, but it returns just as quickly as it went away. “Is there anything else I can get you?”
I open my clutch and pull out my credit card. “I’d like to send over a bottle of champagne to add to their celebration.”
His gaze drops to my card and then back up to me. "I'd be happy just to add it to the bill.”
“Oh no,” I chuckle and shake my head. "This is the first date, and I wouldn't expect him to pay for the whim of me being a hopeless romantic. I mean, this date seems to actually be going pretty well when he's not in the bathroom or on the phone."
The waiter leans in close, still not taking my card. “I really didn’t know how to tell you this, but you seem very sweet, and personally, I don't think your date is a very nice guy."
“Why would you think that?”
“He hasn’t been taking calls or going to the bathroom all evening.” He pauses like he’s trying to think of the right way to say what he’s about to say. “He’s here on another date with a woman at the other side of the restaurant.”
There’s a soft buzzing in my ears as I process the news he's just relayed to me. I mean, it's not as if I had any real feelings for this guy before, but my normally sunny disposition is seriously being tested right now.
Since I got a second chance at life two years ago, I’ve spent every day since living my life in the best way I can by staying positive and finding the good in everyone and everything. But at this moment, I’m not feeling very generous to someone who would make me feel like the biggest fool in the world.
I don't get mad, and I don't yell. But I do put my card back into my clutch and rest my cloth napkin over my half-eaten dinner.
“Thank you for letting me know,” I tell him. “I’d like you to still send over a bottle of champagne to the couple, the most expensive bottle you have. And I’d like you to include the entire dessert menu as well.”
He doesn’t even blink an eye at my request. He simply smiles and asks, “Is there anything else I can do for you?”
“Yes,” I say. “Can you also call me a cab?”
