Disclaimer: It's fiction, people. Enjoy.
I was not nervous, nor apprehensive - matter of fact, all I felt right then was an intense inner excitement of what could, might, would happen over the next hour. At first, when she'd actually replied to my response to her poorly-written ad on a big-time e-dating site, I was pretty dumbfounded. It had taken a lot of work, and utilizing all my stalking skills to actually locate the already-removed ad in the first place, but in the magical cyber world, she'd seen my post to her ad. I'd had several days now, to get a grip about the fact that she'd agreed, eagerly even, to come out and meet me.
I had linked her to one of my online hookup profiles, where I'd been evaluated as "the last man on earth", according to my lengthy answers to a personality/sexuality test. That must have been the kicker for her, that and possibly the fact that in my ad there, I was clearly seeking MEN. I wasn't sure really of the exact thing that grabbed her, maybe it was nothing more than a real desperation to connect with someone. And despite the fact that she'd traveled the world a hundred times over, I knew that I was like no one she'd known. She must've gotten that idea too, why else would she fly 2000 miles to have dinner with a virtual stranger?
The next thing I knew, I was walking past the guest services desk at the Ritz-Carlton, stepping onto an elevator en route to the suite she'd said she'd be in on the fourth floor. I had a bouquet of dark purple tulips clenched in my fist, not thinking of how very clichΓ© it might be to her - getting flowers. But now, here in front of the door, I was flooded with a definite feeling of awkwardness.
What the hell am I doing?
Mainly I was thinking this, because I'm just not into women. But I still harbored a core belief, or maybe just a fantasy, that she was probably enough of a man for me, even when she'd worn those Versace gowns on the Golden Globes.
She was waiting. I felt her right on the other side of the thick door, even though she waited two minutes after I knocked before she opened it. Inside, I was crazy-grinning, but I managed a cool expression as I attempted a humble nod and held the flowers out to her. "Hi. How are you?" I heard myself speak and was immediately wishing I'd said one of my many practiced greetings...but none of them had come to me when I was face to face with her.
"You're shorter than I thought. Come in."
She stepped back from the doorway and let me enter. I might have felt an unexpected shyness, but she certainly didn't.
"So where is this place you're taking me again? The food better not suck or I'll sue their fucking asses. On second though, fuck that. Fuck dinner - take me to a club, Curt."
She cracked a strange smile then, I watched her face as she said mostly to herself now, "God that sounds weird, saying that." I was pretty sure she meant the name. She hadn't taken the flowers from me; I set them down on a long table that was near the door, and pulled myself together enough to attempt initiating conversation.
"We can do that. I'll take you to an awesome place. But first, I just have to let you know that, I'm really, really glad you came out here. Thank you, again...maybe I'm not your ideal match, but I promise you a night you won't forget. I mean that in a good way, Courtney."
She had a cigarette between her lips and waited for me to dig my lighter out. An open bottle of
Maker's Mark
was on the table where I'd laid the flowers down, and after I lit her smoke she grabbed the bottle and took a decent swig straight from it. Her hair was smooth, recently brushed and shiny straight - not the tousled mess she donned in so many of her punkish videos. Her makeup was heavy though, thick lines of black on her lower and upper eyelids, and enough concealer under them that it was evident she was trying to cover dark circles. Her lipstick was a classic blood-red, just as thick as her eyeliner. She almost looked like a drag queen, which was actually very appealing to me. I knew without the heels she was 5'8", and she surpassed me with her heels by a good 2 inches. She lowered the bottle and grinned a little, and said "Well fuck, Curt, you're probably my last option as far as meeting someone compatible. That's gotta make you feel pretty fucked up, knowing that you fall into the 'less than 2%'. Aren't you gonna try to fuck me?"
Shit!