Authors note: this is based on some actual events from years ago. Obviously, I've changed details to protect me and added to make a better story. I'm considering making it a series. Enjoy, and please leave feedback.
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"Yeah, I guess I just wasn't a fan," she said.
"Of what? The weather? Hills? People, food?" I asked.
"All of it, really. San Francisco just isn't my speed."
"Huh. Well, obviously, being from there, I do kind of like the city," I responded.
"Okay."
Another uncomfortable silence hit, at least the fifth one of the night. This date was definitely a bit crappy. I turned and looked toward the bar, wondering if I should order another drink to distract myself, or just close out my tab, make an excuse, and leave. We'd only been here for maybe 30 minutes at the max, and though it was just a first date, it wasn't going great.
Perhaps I should back up. A few months earlier, I'd gotten divorced, and, hoping for a fresh start in life, I moved to Phoenix, taking a job one of my buddies had been hinting at wanting me at for years now. I'd met this girl, Connie, on an online dating site, which I'd joined because I was tired of the girls I met at bars and yoga classes, the two main places I went where women frequented. While she'd seemed nice over messenger, the photo she had sent was well over 10 years old, and we seemed to have absolutely nothing in common. We didn't like any of the same music (literally), she seemed to adore the trashy reality tv and fluff entertainment I despise, there was at least 15 years separating us, she wasn't my physical type, and while I tend to be studious and at least a bit sarcastic and humorous, she was, to be frank, a bit shallow and her sense of humor seemed lacking at best. I couldn't think of two people who had less in common than we did, and while I certainly wasn't looking for anything serious at the moment, I seriously felt zero spark with this woman. I asked myself if I was just being overly picky, or principled, but shrugged it off and realized that nothing about her turned me on, minus a reasonably cute face and absolutely gigantic breasts, which were amply displayed.
Mercifully, then, her phone went off. She glanced down, then announced "It's my babysitter. I need to take this," as I indicated I understood. I looked at the bartender, who was giving me a look of sympathy, having no doubt heard our awkward banter, and indicated that I would be right back. I started toward the rest room, plotting my exit strategy as I went.
It was then that I saw her. Raven black hair, striking blue eyes. Small, slender, but with a very generous amount of curve on her frame. I could see a few tattoos on her, peeking out from underneath her top, along with a tiny stud in her nose and a piercing in her eyebrow. Two words went through my mind. Bad Girl. Cliche, I know, but still, I knew I had to meet this woman. As I walked by, she glanced over and made eye contact with me, and a sly smile played around the corners of her mouth. I considered stopping, but instead went to the restroom and did my business. I glanced in the mirror, and did a quick gut check. Now, I stand decently tall at 6' even, with a slimmer, decently toned bod, brown hair, green eyes, and I know I'm relatively good looking, but I've never been the classic pretty boy, nor have girls ever flocked to me. But a few months from my 30th, I could still pass for a college kid, and as I splashed a little water on my face after washing up, I had the feeling that I was playing with house money tonight, so what the fuck, right?
On the way back, I glanced at the front, noticing Connie still on the phone. I saw the back of the head of my object of lust, considered a few different approaches momentarily, and quickly trashed them all, figuring what the hell, I'm already on a shitty date, what's one more rejection at worst? So, with little fanfare, I sat down in the booth on the same side as her, and just launched in headlong.
"Hi. My name's Martin. Sorry to barge in, but I'm currently on one of the worst dates of my life, I saw you, and I wanted to at least talk to an attractive girl before going home and cursing my night. How's your night going."
The look on her face was a bit shocked, as I could tell men didn't often approach her like this, but then it muted and changed to amusement. She tilted back a bit, extended her hand, and said "Hi Martin. I'm Tiffany. This is my friend Marsha." I shook her hand, lingering a moment but not too pervy, and then gave Marsha a quick shake as well. Marsha was cute, in that blonde, I'm trying to look like a California beach babe even though there is no beach nearby way, but Tiffany was the real head-turner for me. "So," she continued, "what's so bad about your date?"
"Oh, nothing monumental," I shot back. "She's very nice. She's just about 15 years older than me, and she's kind of a country and disco listening, church-going kind of gal. And I'm the exact opposite."
"Is that so?" she asked, staring directly into my eyes, and I could tell she was evaluating me. I knew my next play had to be right.
"Yes, I'm afraid so." I paused, maintaining eye contact. "Anyway, I was planning on calling it a night on my date soon, but after I walk her to her car, I'd like to come back and buy you a drink. Both of you, that is." I watched them exchange a meaningful glance.
"Yes, I think I'd like that," Tiffany replied. "Go do the polite thing, and hurry back if you can. Nice to meet you, Martin."
I nodded my head, and set out on my mission. Fortunately, when I got back up to the bar, Connie was already on her way back in, hanging up her phone. "I have to run, I'm sorry. The babysitter is having trouble getting Emma to sleep. Maybe we can do this again sometime?"
"No problem," I told her, as I signaled the bartender to close out my tab, and signed my receipt. "Let me walk you to your car."
I opened the door for her, chatting amiably as we made our way down the block, until she stopped next to a beige Toyota. "This is me."
