He picks me up in a white BMW and I'm thinking how did he know white BMW was my favourite colour? Everybody meet Nick. Nick is from Greece and when he is wearing clothes it's hard to decide whether or not he would be considered fat or relatively fit. At certain angles he appears to be an out of shape oversized wheezing old man and then in the blink of an eye he transforms into a could pass for forty something man with sculpted biceps. It's amazing what a tan and the right lighting can do for some people. It should be noted Nick claims to be 37, something he has no doubt been claiming for years. When he picks me up in his car a Taylor Swift is blasting on the radio.
Ordinarily this scene would strike me as odd, his age, his poor choice of music but I think because the music is so loud (sort of an I-can't-think-straight-the-music-is-so-loud-loud) this moment actually feels very right. I find myself daydreaming of what life will be like in the future when he is out of town on a trip and I get to drive the BMW around and pick up all my friends and go shopping. I imagine him visiting his native country gathering an assortment of presents to bring back to me. Naturally his trip home would be based entirely upon collecting gifts for me: olive oil, rare soaps made from olive oil, rare bracelets made from olive oil, and whatever the fuck else you buy in Greece. I am snapped out of my reverie when he asks me the best route to get to the restaurant. Uh I don't know, don't you know? You're the one driving the car. Who doesn't plan a route ahead of time. What's up with this guy? What a weirdo. When in reality I say "Oh, I think you can just keep heading south on this street, it's about a 15 minute drive".
When we arrive at the restaurant, we are greeted promptly by a gazillion hostesses who seem far too happy to see us. It's very off-putting. Does he know these people? Why is she smiling like that? Did she just introduce herself? Will she be joining us?! Everyone is acting a bit too familiar and I think I'd like to hold onto my jacket thank you very much. I may be needing it. We are shown to our table and thankfully the hostess returns to her stoop never to be seen again.
"Order whatever you want. I don't know what any of this means."
He doesn't like menus. That's fine. I like menus. I will handle the menu situation on my own. Oysters oysters oysters. Then on to divorce discussion. Wait, divorce discussion? Without much of an introduction he begins recounting his semi-recent divorce situation.
I can't help but wonder, doesn't he have friends he can talk to about this? I mean divorce is like a serious thing, even your most unlikeable friends' deserved to be talked to if their going through a divorce. It just doesn't seem like the type of thing you discuss with somebody before the wine arrives. In fact, it seems like very bad form indeed. I am of the opinion that nothing should be discussed before the wine arrives. There should be a moment of silence. A moment to gather oneself, settle, and prepare for what's to come. Dating is not easy, and the last thing we want to do is become completely acquainted with each other and exhaust all forms of conversation before dessert. Divorces should really only ever be brought up over a specialty coffee.
Nick is no doubt the life of the party. He drinks quickly and is never hesitant to get another round. He is a yes man. And that's what I'm starting to like about him. It's never one round of oysters, it's two or three.
"Are you still hungry? Get more."
I don't even need to answer his questions. He answers for me. Another plus. I hate when people ask me questions and expect answers. "Do you want another?" "Which flavour would you like?" "Salmon or tuna?". I don't know, people. I don't know. With Nick I don't have to know.
He is staring at me like he's imagining me with all my clothes off. In fact, now that I'm aware of it, he is sort of looking at everyone like that.
"You look amazing."
He repeats that line like a broken record. Though there is something so sincere in his voice when he compliments you, you can't help but believe him. But at the same time, it's painfully obvious he's said these lines a million times before to a million different people. He tells me he goes to the Turks and Caicos once a month but does not divulge why. I'm not a detective so I don't ask any further questions. And according to him, the next time he goes I must go with him.
Confession: I like how this guy just goes for it. He doesn't tip toe around questions like "Hey, you think you want to go on another date?" Instead, he insists I fly to the Turks and Caicos with him. I imagine he is the type of man to pee in very inappropriate places yet remain completely unapologetic about it. But this shouldn't be confused with rudeness. He is very polite. Maybe a bit misguided is all? You get the impression he picked up manners in a nightclub from a guy named Rodrigo.
"Who wants a bottle of Champagne and a whisper of cinnamon for dessert?"
Me, me, me!
(To be continued)