She was beautiful beyond words. I'll leave it at that.
Of course I didn't expect it, I mean, we met by accident through email, and somehow we hit it off. She'd sent a picture, but of course pictures can be doctored, or even fakes. She looked great in the photo, of course. But in real life it was like looking at a 5' 5" goddess
I'm sitting on the hood of my car waiting for her to get off work. We're supposed to go out for drinks, and what not. First time meeting. She walks out the door, long snaky golden locks drifting out behind her like Portia
from The Merchant of Venice
"Handshake or hug?" she asks.
I realize that I'm not remotely in this lady's class
. She's a health nut
, drives a brand new pickup, freshly washed and waxed. She could be a fashion model if not for her height. I, on the other hand, have bloodshot eyes
, deep circles under my eyes for lack of sleep, and my car is an ancient Oldsmobile
"Ummm..." I say, oh so intelligently.
"Handshake then." She shakes my hand, somewhere in the back of my head I'm picturing it turn into an embrace, and happy cavorting. Instead she points to the Bennigan's
and says "It's over there. Let's go."
Bennigan's... I can't say anything but "Okay." over and over till we sit down. I can't stop staring at her. I really had no idea she looked this good. It's like suddenly catching yourself hanging out with a celebrity. I feel like an idiot... stumbling through conversation. No, I ummm... sorry? Yes... err... Well...
My wit has charmed her to the point she is now playing, bored, with her ring on the table, making it spin. My lame
attempts at conversation
keep trailing off because I can't stop looking at the way the light reflects in her too perfect eyes. Eventually I join in playing with the ring. We begin spinning it, making it roll, and generally I just begin to enjoy playing a game rather than trying to be someone she'd rather be with. We have a pretty good time, and even lay wagers on drinks as to where we can make it spin.
Suddenly the ring flies from the table.
I may be shy as hell around beautiful women, but reflexes are always on. My hand shoots out to catch the ring more than a foot from the table... unfortunately my other hand is steadying my weight on the table and it begins to tip.
The ring bounces from my hand into the air back across the table, while simultaneously my whiskey sour and her MGD slide towards her lap.
Like a snake my hand slaps out and snags the bottle just in time, the whiskey sour caught on the lips of the bottle, perfectly balanced. My other hand releases the table and plucks the ring from the air. The ring goes on the table, the drinks are replaced in their spots.
'Damn I'm smooth'
, I think as she gives me an astounded look. I pick up my whiskey sour, lift it to my lips and toast her. Alas, the sloshing had moistened the edges, and it drops from my fingers into my lap.
"I've got to be somewhere in fifteen minutes." she says.
Resigned I nod and she picks up the tab despite my protests. I apparently earned a second handshake, but narry a word from her elsewise. I mumbled out something about maybe next time
and she said something to the effect of "good"... and with that, she and her shiny newly waxed pickup were gone...
She did leave me something to remember her by. I now have the flu