A look, a gasp, a quick jab into J’s ribs, returned with a reply gasp. Our gasps were not related.
“Oh man,” I duck into an aisle, suddenly in a Metal Gear Solid mode.
“Where did you go?” is plaintively yelled after me.
One arm reaches from behind a wooden display case and yanks a black t-shirt and its wearer into the aisle.
“You have to trust me.”
“What the -?” is mumbled into thin air.
Turn, lean against display, turn, walk straight toward the door, eyes kept straight ahead, purposeful steps. A slow plodding is heard behind me. “Can you just – ”
A snap of the head and a low voice, “Truuuuuuuuuuust me.”
Out of the doors, into the parking lot, sidestep in front of the column, walk against the building, again – with purposeful steps. Normal, casual steps behind me, “What the hell?”
Back in normal operation and with no flashing red lights, “See…that was that guy that I went to coffee with…that online dude. The mullet. The painful sideburns.”
“He thought I was stellar…. I…did not return the sentiment.”
“That doesn’t explain -”
“He was the one that told me that drinking was a turn off and proceeded to tell me how wasted he got in Turkey. He then e-mailed me wanting to ‘do dinner’. Heavens to Betsy. So…I, um, ignored him. Repeatedly.”
A blank stare.
Hissing, “This is why internet dating is bad. BAD!”