The night before he would agree to go on the blind date, the one with the expected awkward hug and unexpectedly dry armpit, Christian had a violent dream. In this dream he was running through some type of marsh just before sunset. Though his feet weren't getting wet from touching the marsh, or stepping on any wildlife it contained. They were somehow on a boardwalk that seemingly extended in every direction. The running wasn't violent. It was the people who suddenly appeared and were chasing him that were making the dream turn violent and creating shades of a nightmare. They were movie style stereotypical mafioso. Dark suits, slicked back hair, and a lot of weapons. As Christian ran they destroyed they boardwalk behind him, never quite catching him, but never falling very far behind, either. He turned to look back for a moment and when he did the boardwalk collapsed beneath him.
Christian woke in a sweat. Not sure what the dream was about, or where it stemmed from, he was, like a good martini, slightly shaken and not too dry. He immediately felt ridiculous for being scared about a dream, not to mention having compared himself to a martini, and guessed at the time before checking his phone. It was almost 4am. He had guessed 3am. Either way, he was hungry and there was no time that would stop him from getting up and checking the fridge.
Raspberries, kiwi, two day old rice noodles drenched with sriracha and soy, peanut butter, and half a bag of spinach. He checked the cupboard and the choices were even less appealing. He went back to the fridge and pulled a kiwi, elected to not peel it, instead he cut it in half and scooped out as much tart green filling as he could without damaging the skin, eating each scoop with his elbows propped on the counter and his eyes half open. After drinking nearly a pint of water straight from the faucet he managed to get back into bed without slamming his toes into any of the furniture as he had done so many times before and drifted off to sleep.
John called him at 9am and he ignored it. John called him at 10am and he ignored that too, electing to play dead to the outside world for a little while longer. At 11, showered and pretty but with no place to go, he called John LaCada back and got no answer. So absurd, he thought, how the fuck could John want something so bad as to call twice, yet not answer a return call. Christian found his laptop and collapsed onto his couch, a well worn relic from the early 2000's that used to be black but was slowly fading into something between black, grey, and brown. Someone suggested once when he was bemoaning the color that he should call it fifty shades of grey, but Christian countered by explaining that that was a ridiculous name and only a hack would call anything by that moniker. Should he also call his loveseat hogwarts because of the lumps in the cushion, he wondered to the unfortunate soul that was simply there as a friend of a friend. Maybe that friend of a friend was just being topical, or maybe Christian was just a little high strung at that point.
Christian was informed that had only 5 free articles left for the month on nytimes.com when John finally called him back.
"Dude," John started, "I have a chick who would be perfect for you and the best part is that she is kind of getting over a relationship too."
"How is that the best part?"
"Well, I mean...She's not bad looking either, and she's pretty cool. Plus my wife wants to set you up with her so that's what I'm doing. I'll text you some pictures right now."
"How do you know her?" Christian asked, "And why is your wife so worried about setting me up with someone? I'm sure I could find someone if I wanted to."
"Look, will you just do it as a favor to me? It'll stop Sarah from bugging me for a little bit, and then if you have more than one date with her, we can double date and it'll be an excuse to hang out and get drunk, and they can talk to each other."
Christian looked at the pictures coming through his phone.
"Fine. One date." Maybe if he went on this date he could start forgetting about HER.
Christian woke in a sweat. Not sure what the dream was about, or where it stemmed from, he was, like a good martini, slightly shaken and not too dry. He immediately felt ridiculous for being scared about a dream, not to mention having compared himself to a martini, and guessed at the time before checking his phone. It was almost 4am. He had guessed 3am. Either way, he was hungry and there was no time that would stop him from getting up and checking the fridge.
Raspberries, kiwi, two day old rice noodles drenched with sriracha and soy, peanut butter, and half a bag of spinach. He checked the cupboard and the choices were even less appealing. He went back to the fridge and pulled a kiwi, elected to not peel it, instead he cut it in half and scooped out as much tart green filling as he could without damaging the skin, eating each scoop with his elbows propped on the counter and his eyes half open. After drinking nearly a pint of water straight from the faucet he managed to get back into bed without slamming his toes into any of the furniture as he had done so many times before and drifted off to sleep.
John called him at 9am and he ignored it. John called him at 10am and he ignored that too, electing to play dead to the outside world for a little while longer. At 11, showered and pretty but with no place to go, he called John LaCada back and got no answer. So absurd, he thought, how the fuck could John want something so bad as to call twice, yet not answer a return call. Christian found his laptop and collapsed onto his couch, a well worn relic from the early 2000's that used to be black but was slowly fading into something between black, grey, and brown. Someone suggested once when he was bemoaning the color that he should call it fifty shades of grey, but Christian countered by explaining that that was a ridiculous name and only a hack would call anything by that moniker. Should he also call his loveseat hogwarts because of the lumps in the cushion, he wondered to the unfortunate soul that was simply there as a friend of a friend. Maybe that friend of a friend was just being topical, or maybe Christian was just a little high strung at that point.
Christian was informed that had only 5 free articles left for the month on nytimes.com when John finally called him back.
"Dude," John started, "I have a chick who would be perfect for you and the best part is that she is kind of getting over a relationship too."
"How is that the best part?"
"Well, I mean...She's not bad looking either, and she's pretty cool. Plus my wife wants to set you up with her so that's what I'm doing. I'll text you some pictures right now."
"How do you know her?" Christian asked, "And why is your wife so worried about setting me up with someone? I'm sure I could find someone if I wanted to."
"Look, will you just do it as a favor to me? It'll stop Sarah from bugging me for a little bit, and then if you have more than one date with her, we can double date and it'll be an excuse to hang out and get drunk, and they can talk to each other."
Christian looked at the pictures coming through his phone.
"Fine. One date." Maybe if he went on this date he could start forgetting about HER.
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