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willow
“Speed dating,when did my life come to this?” Chantelle talked me into doing this stupid thing today, and for the life of me I can’t remember why I said yes. How are you supposed to find your one true love by talking to him for only five minutes?
But here I sit with my steaming cup of white hot chocolate. It’s warmth in my hands eases the cold chill from outside. Chocolate, sugar, and the little bit of peppermint schnapps I snuck in are titillating my senses. The smell always reminds me of winter, Christmas in general, I suppose.
I find myself here at this Saturday night speed dating event because the truth is… dating is hard. Acing college? Easy. Picking out new outfits that are show stoppers? Also, easy. The rush that comes with a new man? The magic of a love bubble where, for the first while, it’s a honeymoon period where nothing exists outside of the two of you. Or… finding a guy who isn’t so into himself that he’d rather marry his left hand than you? Hard. I’m not opposed to a good old-fashioned knocking of boots, but I won’t be giving it up on the first date.
The matches tonight are underwhelmingly boring, but here I sit anyhow. Some of them intrigue me with just a look. Others, I’m hoping I won’t have to deal with in any manner of the word. I’m looking for a certain type of man. One who will sweep me off my feet and make me swoon. Dark hair, blue eyes, strong jawline, five o’clock scruff. Is it too much to ask for?
Santa has known since I was a child that it’s on my wish list - a boyfriend for Christmas. Is it childish thinking that Santa could really bring the perfect boyfriend?
You know… real book boyfriend material. I’ve been in love with fictional boyfriends for long enough, and it’s about damn time I find one in real life. A guy who makes me fucking feel, someone who’s more than just safe. Because you can’t have both, right? Fun and safe? A heart of gold with a little bad boy mixed in? I’ve found there’s a fine line, and neither side wants to cross. You either have the heavily tattooed motorcycle gang guy or the accountant in his perfect suit with his perfect house and well… the best life, but a boring one.
I want someone who’s going to challenge me, and someone who knows what to do in between the sheets, if you know what I mean.
Static lashes out over the microphone and I cringe. “Hello everyone, welcome to Sugar and Spice’s first speed dating Saturday. You’ll have an hour to meet and greet twelve matches. Every time I ring this bell, you’ll move on to the next person.” She rings it for practice once to start us off.
The first man I sit in front of falls into the less desirable category. He definitely doesn’t fit into any of my wants in a man, and isn’t love cootie material. He’s short with glasses, weathered skin, and is missing some hair on top. His lips part into a pleasant smile, but my eyes are drawn to every wrinkle on his shirt.
“Howdy. How are you today?” He winks at me and I fight the urge to cringe, again.
“I’m doing fine, thanks.”
“Is that a good fine or an I’d rather not be here but my friend dragged me here sorta fine?”
“Well—” I go to speak again when he cuts me off.
“Yeah, a friend dragged me here, too. You know, not many people in this town are my type, but I figured I’d give this whole thing a shot.”
“Okay then.”
The bell dings again and a deep breath leaves my body over the fact that I won’t have to make any more small talk with someone who’s definitely not my type. I almost knock over my chair trying to get up too quickly and a blush crosses my face. The look of confusion on his face is priceless. Did he really thinkthatwas hitting it off? Grabbing my spiced hot chocolate, I move on.
Sitting down at the next table, pale blue eyes meet mine. He is good looking. Definitely a little more my type with a chiseled jaw, straight nose, and those eyes.
“Hey there, I’m Willow,” I say, smiling over at him. He doesn’t return my smile. In fact, he appears to scowl more. His eyes never leave mine, boring into me. I take a deep breath because, quite frankly, the way he stares is unnerving. More of a maybe-he’s-a-serial-killer-type than a he’s just shy type. A minute later and he still hasn’t responded. He’s sitting back in his chair, arms crossed in a standoffish pose. Closed off.
“So, why are you even here?” I ask, trying again.
He remains speechless, staring me down. I tilt my head, as if somehow a simple twist of my neck will help me to figure out why in the heck this guy is wasting my time when clearly it’s so off putting. The bell dings a second time and I’m getting increasingly agitated Chantelle even talked me into this whole thing. I don’t see what speed dating can do.
I’m not going to find the perfect guy for me with a few quick questions about non-essential life things. Maybe I should try online dating, hell, maybe I should try tinder… but I’ve heard those could also be terrible ideas. Catfishing and all. My luck, I’d end up with a serial killer or some crazy shit.
And you aren’t going to find a man by being so cynical.I remind myself, internally rolling my eyes.
I move on to the next table.
The guy in front of me isn’t book boyfriend material, but he has a nice smile. Dark hair, dark brown eyes, hidden by black framed glasses. I mean he’s like 80% perfect, right? Sure, it’s good enough. I don’t have to have 100%. Until… he opens his damn mouth.
I speak up first. “Hey, how’s it going?”
“I’m doing great, how about you?”
A smile forms on my lips. “Really good, actually.”
“Shall we get started?” he asks.
“Sure, why not?” I reply.
