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Humor for One

Stephanie Fleming

    I’m going on a blind date. My first one. I am actually terrified but my friends won’t let me back down. I was the last one of our group to try on-line dating. I fought it as long as I could, rebelled against it when everyone else in the world seemed to be doing it.
    Ashley was the first to do it; she created a profile on match.com. Within days she had tons of men interested, sending her e-mails and ice-breakers. She was so excited; she met every one of them. At least the ones that didn’t look like potential axe-murderers. Not that we really knew what one looked like. She would forward the profiles to all of us and we would vote whether or not to veto each one. If the guy made it past two out of four of us and Ashley, she would meet him. Ashley had some crazy experiences with some very strange guys, like the guy who asked her to meet him in a Denny’s parking lot and then showed half naked expecting to have sex – in her car! I think she was trying to meet too many guys to be able to notice if she actually liked one. Eventually, she slowed down and met a guy she really liked. He had a really sarcastic sense of humor but he made her laugh. They dated for four months until Ashley got bored and moved on. But that was Ashley.
    Chloe signed up on yahoo personals but she never met anyone. She chatted with a bunch of guys and got a lot of e-mails but she preferred chatting over face-to-face meetings. She spent most days in her office anyway working on computer programs so it was more comfortable for her. Once she chatted with a guy for a month who seemed to have a great sense of humor and she decided she would meet him. One night just before falling asleep, she e-mailed him her number so they could make arrangements. The next morning she woke up late, threw on her clothes and sped to the office. When she had a chance to check her phone at lunch, there were seventeen missed calls, all from him. The calls started at midnight and continued every half an hour until 10:00am. There were six new voice mails - from him. All but the first were complaining that she hadn’t yet called him back. She promptly sent him an e-mail that he would be better off finding someone else who can deal with high maintenance people. Then she cancelled her account.
    Brianna and Emily both have met a couple of guys but they are very choosy. Probably a result of Ashley’s experiences. I am a chef at a local seafood restaurant and I spend endless hours stuck in my kitchen and I never meet anyone new except the rare customer who wants to meet the chef and then gets introduced to this sweaty girl in a white hat with fifteen different types of sauces smeared down the front of her apron. My sous-chef has a hysterical sense of humor but he is married with three kids. Right now is the restaurant’s slow season so I have some free time. The girls are hoping I will meet someone worthy of taking to a party at the fashion magazine where Brianna works. The party is next weekend so I am not holding out a lot of hope.
    Emily is a bartender at a cool neighborhood bar near where we all live. While Jeff and I were e-mailing, I mentioned it as a place I like to go. So, he suggested we meet there. Perfect, I thought. Emily will be there to make sure I don’t get kidnapped or worse. When I walk in the bar, I see Emily cleaning a glass behind the bar. She sees me but pretends not to. I look around for Jeff to see if he is there yet but see no one who looks like the picture he sent me. The two things I like most about him are his shiny blond hair and witty sense of humor.
    A strange looking guy with greasy brown hair tries to get my attention as I walk by him. He is sitting alone at a table. I ignore him and keep walking. It happens every now and then at the bar.
    “Rachel,” he says. How does this creepy guy know my name? “It’s me, Jeff.”
    My jaw nearly hits the floor. There is no way this is that cute guy from the picture. I figure it’s a joke. Ok, I get it; I have a sense of humor, too. The real Jeff is hiding somewhere, waiting for a reaction. I’ll play along.
    “Uh, hi,” I say, shaking his hand. He motions for me to sit and I do. I look around everywhere for another single guy, maybe one appearing incognito with a menu in front of his face. I don’t see one, but I do spot Bri, Ashley and Chloe at another table, watching me. Ashley catches my eye and starts laughing. Then the other two follow. I’m glad they can find the humor in this. Maybe they know where the real Jeff is.
    Jeff begins to talk and I recognize the voice from our phone conversation. The realization that this is really him sinks in and I feel sick. I start to ask him what happened to his blond hair but as I look into his eyes to speak to him, I notice one of his eyebrow hairs is much longer than the others. It is so long, it curls down in front of one of his eyes.
    “What happened to your eyebrow?” I blurt out. “I-I-I mean hair, uh...blond hair, you – your hair, it’s not blond.” Unless you’re going for dirty blond, in that case, time to cut back on the dirty.
    “Oh, you mean the picture I sent.” Duh. “That was taken ten years ago when I used to work out in the sun all the time. I don’t really take too many pictures anymore and that was the only one I could still find. I must’ve lost the others in the divorce.”
    “Oh.—uh—your—uh—profile didn’t mention you were divorced.”
    “It used to but I took it off, no one would meet me. But it’s been five years.”
    “Five years. Wow, you must have married young.”
    “No, I was smart and waited till I was almost thirty, didn’t wanna rush it too much.”
    “But, uh, your profile says you’re twenty-five.”
    Silence.
    And more silence.
    I have to speak and try to break the tension. “Oh, I get it; you were twenty-five when the picture was taken.”
    He just stares at me as though horribly confused by a complicated math problem. No smile, no laugh, no audible response. He eyes tilt up toward the ceiling as though he is lost in calculations. Clearly, he has no sense of humor. What have I gotten myself into? And how do I get out of here? And who the hell wrote those witty e-mails for him?
    I begin looking around the room for possible escape routes.
    “Excuse me, are you Rachel?” Emily is standing beside the table. Oh, thank god. I was calculating the height of the table next to us to see if I could clear it on my way out.
    “Yes, I am.”
    “Someone just called for you, it’s an emergency, you have to go home now.”
    “Oh my god,” I say as I stand up. “I hope it’s not serious.”
    “I’ll go with you,” Jeff says beginning to get out of his chair.
    “No!” Emily pronounces. “I have to bring you something.”
    Emily turns and heads back to the bar as I put on my jacket. “Nice to meet you,” I say right before I run out of the bar, not even waiting for his response.
    I run all the way back to my apartment and fling myself on my bed. “Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.”
    I get my cell phone out of my purse and put it on my chest. I know the girls will text me when the coast is clear. At least we will have something new to laugh about tonight. They’d better have a drink waiting.

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