Online Date

I've recently begun a social experiment* in which I am the lab rat.  I set out on this adventure to learn a thing or two about love, life, and women.  Unfortunately, I think I may have lost more than I've found along the way.  Take, for example, the awkward first meeting, after weeks of chatting, texting and phone calls.  There she was, lost and alone crossing the street in front of the restaurant where I had arranged for us to meet.  I shot a glance of recognition her way, hoping to have it returned, but instead, as she turned her head toward me, I could see that she was on the phone.  Since my phone was in my pocket, distinctly NOT ringing, I knew right away she wasn't on the phone with me.  We paused together as our trajectories converged and shared a moment of not talking to one another.  Things were off to a bizarre start already.  As I stood there, I expected to hear an excited dismissal of the phone conversation.  Something like "Oh my gosh, here's here and he DOES look just like a younger Brad Pitt!  Girl!  He's even hotter than I expected!!!  I gotta go, I'll call you when we're done!" with girlish squeals exchanged in the process.  Nope. 
Instead what I heard was something much more serious, "Well you know better than that and you've going to have to fix it when Mommy gets home.  And you better be in a good mood too, or you'll have even more..." 
"Hey!"  I said, making sure she knew without me saying that I'm youngbradpitt1979 from the online dating site that had arranged to meet her here.  She nodded at me and diverted her eyes, as if the silence was not enough disengagement.  We stood awkwardly on the street in front of the restaurant.  Although I don't think she was aware of the awkwardness because she was wrapped up in something stupid her little Johnny did moments earlier from an undisclosed location.  I know those moments.  Two people both need your attention at the same time.  It is frustrating.  The honk of a horn breaks the mood as I realized that we were still standing in the middle of the road.
"How about we go inside?"  I offer in a stroke of pure genius.  I reached past her to pull open the door only to find it was a push-open door.  Now I am nothing more than an obstacle between her and the restaurant, with my pride, chivalry, and center-of-gravity far behind me.
"Ok honey, love you, bye."  And just like that the date, for her, begins. 
"Hi!"
"Hi, you must be Jen." 
"Nope."  My hunger pangs quickly turn into a knot of embarrassment in my stomach and I reach back to push open the door that has betrayed me once already.  It is unmoved.  So, too, is her face as she gazes into my eyes.  She does kind of look like an older Tonya Harding, I think to myself.  I looked at her one last time, my eyebrows clenched in painful confusion, when I remembered our running joke about fake names.  Smiles washed over our faces and we looked into the crowded restaurant for a place to sit.  It begins.












*To protect the image of the writer and other characters in this story, and for the sake of humorous/creative license, less than half of the details in this post are true.