Welcome to part 4 of “I need to ask you something”. An experiment in tandem story telling between Victoria over at Declutterbug versus Captain Sting Pants and me.
To find out the story behind the experiment, as well as previous episodes of the series, go here. Otherwise read on and remember, this is a living story so if you like to see it go in a particular direction, let us know in the comments!
“Feel like a movie ;-)”
…scrawled in loopy, soapy hand writing on the bathroom mirror.
I didn’t even notice it until I got out of the shower and was looked in the mirror to shave. I smiled, thinking back to that day when I took the young girl from IT on level 16 out for the worst date ever.
I was younger, cocky and full of alternatives when I flicked her the email that said “you’re obviously bored, come out with me tonight”. That’s all it took to get her interest and within three or four emails she was in, hook, line and sinker.
I’d planned to use my standard tactic, dinner at the little Italian place where one of the waiters knew my name, then off for a few drinks at the little bar that you could watch people falling out of the pub that did cheap cocktails – perfect people watching to fill awkward gaps if there were any.
A few minutes before 6pm when we were due to meet, I looked out of my window to see dark, angry clouds rolling over the city.I didn’t think much of it as I got up from my desk and headed out to meet her. Standing in the foyer, I played idly with my phone as I waited for you to arrive and saw the first heavy drops of rain start to fall. You turned up looking different, your hair out, glasses off and a hint of perfume. “Come on” I said, “let’s grab a bite to eat, it’s just down the road from here”.
As we dashed towards the restaurant it started to rain. That rain turned to a torrent and within minutes the gutters were overflowing, every bus stop and awning was packed with people caught by the storm. With sodden clothes and soaking hair I pulled her into the restaurant and trying to be as cool as someone with socks foaming with rain can be, and asked “Marco” for my table. Marco looked apologetically at me and denied me a table on a first name basis, waving his hand at restaurant packed with damp business people, sheltering from the rain over bruschetta.
This wasn’t going well. I looked at her and smiled, she smiled back, brushing a thick, sodden strand of hair out of her eyes. “Ok – next plan” I said…
After two more restaurants and one little bar that had been closed due to a collapsed roof from the rain we stood, huddled under the awning of the local art-house movie theatre. As dates go I was pulling about a 2 out of 10. I looked over and she was still smiling. She made a joke about whether I “treated all the girls like this” and I smiled. For the last two hours we’d ran through puddles, jumped into taxis and failed to get anywhere to eat or drink but she was still smiling, still able to make light of the situation.
We started to talk, relaxing into each others conversation when she suggested we catch a movie. “It’s dry and they serve alcohol” she said. Out of ideas I agreed and went to buy two tickets to the worst date movie ever made.