The following story is an entry to a competition found here.
It's been 3 years since my wife died and to be completely honest, it's also been 3 years since any social interaction with women in general. And today I decided to change that.
I scouted the internet for some dating advice, where to meet new people, how to make the first step, yadda, yadda, yadda... I finally came across this speed-dating event taking place later today not far away. I was happy to have found the article and even more so when I found out the event had a theme to it.
Below the ad was a picture of the silver DeLorean DMC-12 from the movie Back to the future along with the writing "if it's silver or glass, you may pass."
Being the complete sci-fi nerd that I am, I decided then and there this was a chance I could not miss. "The women who will be there will surely share my love for sci-fi," I thought to myself as I was trying on different sets of clothes to try and find the best combination for the evening. I tried everything I had, and ended up with the most classic choice of all.
Black and white leather shoes, gray trousers and blazer, black leather belt, white shirt and a silver tie.
I shaved my beard, combed my hair to the side and drowned myself in perfume. I remember standing in front of a mirror having a broad smile on my face.
"Look at me, it's like puberty all over again. I'm all excited to go out on a date. And i don't even know who with!"
I couldn't help myself but laugh.
I checked my watch and it was time to go. I told the mirror "You're the man," one last time, then winked at it and mimicked firing a gun before going downstairs and sitting into my silver car. It was my time to shine!
Upfront there was no other car color but silver. The building itself was very futuristic-looking. Everything was either silver or glass, except for the red Hollywood carpet leading to the entrance. Of course, the carpet was accompanied by silver railing and the blonde receptionist who greeted us was dressed in a shiny silver dress, wearing shiny silver shoes and shiny silver earrings. I told her my name and she gave me a piece of paper with a number of my table on it. Even from just the outside, this place was the definition of a wonderland to me.
The inside, though, was even more breathtaking. A bar made of stainless steel and glass with a giant disco ball above it; glass tables and seats with stainless steel legs; the employees in reflective silver clothing; everything right down to the grey napkins was theme-based. I believe many would consider it too much, but to me it felt like home.
I managed to find the table number 15 and I sat down still bedazzled by the beauty of my surroundings. Besides the two female bartenders, there were only men in the room and I began to feel uneasy. A computer altered voice coming from overhead speakers calmed me down the instant I had the thought no woman had showed up.
"You will have 5 minutes with each individual then the women will rotate to the next table. The bartenders will provide you with your desired drinks along with a card containing a topic for you to discuss."
Not long after the computer stopped talking, women entered the room from another entrance. They, also, were all dressed in silver or gray and holding silver purses. I immediately fancied a short, fair-haired maiden wearing silver high heels. It must have been destiny she started walking towards me and ultimately sat at my table.
We were both visibly nervous as the bartender brought forth the talk prompt card. I flipped it over and it only had one word written on it.
"Now isn't that that the silliest of talk prompts?" She giggled. "I mean, what's ballet got to do with science fiction?" She was more amused by the poor word choice than she was irritated. I immediately took a deeper liking to her and knew I needed to take initiative.
"Well, perhaps it's not about it being related to science fiction." I needed to come up with something real fast. "You see, metaphorically speaking, dating is a lot like ballet. You're put in front of an audience,"I made a hand gesture towards her, "and all the lights are on you. It's like being alone on stage, really. So now you have to listen to the music, which is the words they speak, and dance to impress. You need to think about your next move, smile all the time and god forbid you make a mistake. And why exactly ballet? Because you need to do all this and make it look easy."
"Are you a ballet expert of some sort?" She asked, visibly entertained by my little madeup story.
"I haven't got the slightest clue about it."
We both laughed. We talked about our favorite movies, our favorite foods, places we would like to visit, our first love, our michiefs at school, ...
We really connected with each other and when the five minute bell rang, instead of switching partners I proposed we leave the place altogether and talk some more. She agreed and we sneaked our way to the main entrance.
"Perhaps the word ballet wasn't so bad for a talk prompt after all," I thought to myself as we drove off in my silver car.