accord. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. Like this is how life is supposed to be.” Our linked grip is slightly adjusted in my lap. “Toes in the sand. Hands connected. Oysters waiting to be eaten.” He hums thoughtfully to himself for a minute. “Life or heaven? Or maybe heaven on earth?”
His cheerful ramblings get me snickering again. “Progressive and philosophical?”
“And this is me pre tequila.”
Louder laughs bounce back and forth only momentarily due to our waitress coming to introduce herself. She goes through a very lifeless, almost mechanical, clearly not a fan of her job, process explaining the menu, the prices, and the drinks. Ax takes it upon himself to order a variety platter of oysters on the half-shell prior to insisting I am welcomed to order anything and everything else that catches my eye. I don’t add any extra food; however, I do join him in ordering a tequila sunset, which is something I’ve honestly never had nor heard of. He explains the difference in the beverages – primarily the significance in the splash of blackberry brandy – during our wait along with embarrassing bartending blunders from his college days.
It’s obvious by the small time drop he gives that he’s in his late thirties, basically at the other end of the decade from the jerk I left behind, yet I would’ve never known by his carefree ways. Most men I’ve met this close to forty have a checklist lifestyle they’re rushing to before they’re branded “too old” or “too late”. Many treat first dates like Dateline interviews I’ve watched with my grandmother. There are far too many questions and not enough real conversations. An abundant amount of accusations and assumptions but not nearly enough open communications or commendations. Do I understand where they’re coming from? To an extent. No, I don’t want to play the bullshit games you’re forced to play in your twenties, but I also don’t want to be treated like I’m facing the admissions board to get certified in the subject of love just because I’m like right on the other side of thirty. Relationships should definitely be about both people being on the same shore; however, how they get on the same shore should have more flexibility than some want to allow. I hoped broadening my search perimeters with the dating company would help with that.
Obviously, I was wrong.
Then again, had they not led me to that failure, I may have never discussed possible success.
My first sip of the drink causes a loud, pleased hum to push past my pressed together lips.
“Way to make a guy jealous,” Ax teases as he puts down his own glass.
I place my beverage on the table in front of me and shoot him a smirk. “Something that happens easily?”
“Something that happens rarely.”
The new information ignites a line of questioning I’m anxious to pursue; however, he steers the conversation back to the initial topic.
“What do you think?” He motions his head to the drink. “Better than a sunrise? Worse? Same? At least better than the cheap house wine you were drinking earlier?”
“Oh, this is way better than that was.” My gagging is proceeded by a shake of the head. “He didn’t let me choose a drink when the bartender came over. He just said, and I quote ‘She’ll take whatever’s cheapest on the happy hour menu.’.”
Ax lets a painful cringe cross his face.
“Probably should’ve been my cue to get the fuck out of there right then.”
“Would you call it your worst first date ever?”
“No, that honor still belongs to Stanley.” Our first round of oysters arrives at the table and is carefully placed between us. “He was the last guy I dated from an app before I tried this company.”
Ax stares on in obvious curiosity.
“You really want the details instead of having what looks like an amazing meal?”
“Yup.”
Surprise splits my lips apart.
“Oh, and I’m a fairly patient guy, so I have no problem waiting to digest your story instead of letting myself digest these bad boys.”
I helplessly smile, once more, at his fearless tactic when it comes to talking.
Gotta admit.
There’s something refreshing about a man who just says what he says without concern for how it might ruin the date or the chances of getting me into bed. His lack of censorship is rather invigorating. It feels more like an actual conversation than a conference call with a well-polished politician. Plus, unlike when Constantcreep clearly spoke whatever came to mind, Ax’s comments don’t revolve around purely perverted intentions.
“Alright,” my caving catches me off guard.