“Or something,” he said and rolled his eyes. “Good to see you though. You look a little bit different from your profile photos.”
“Oh, you think so? A good kind of different?” I gave him a sweet little smile, trying to mask my complete and utter disdain of him.
“Not really,” he shrugged, “but you’ll do.”
“Okay. Well, thanks. I guess. You look pretty similar to your photos.” I lied, but I didn’t want to tell him he looked closer to a fat pig. I was going to be the bigger person.
“Yeah, I know. In fact, I’ve been told I look better than my photos.” He looked me up and down. “I wish I could say the same about you.”
I counted to ten in my head before responding. “Well, I’m sorry that I’m not as pleasing to the eye as you thought I’d be.” And to imagine, I’d worn my favorite jeans and lip gloss for this guy.
“Yeah. I mean you’re okay, you don’t look like a model to me, though. What are you, like a hundred-eighty?”
“Excuse me?”
“What do you weigh, like one-eighty?”
“No, I do not weigh one-eighty.” I could feel myself being defensive. Was he trying to say I was fat? “I’m not sure why you’re asking me about my weight?”
“Oh, I mean, I was just thinking if you’re a model, shouldn’t you be like a hundred pounds or, a hundred-ten pounds max?”
“I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that. That’s very offensive.” I stared at him for a few seconds not knowing what to say. This man had an attitude problem and he was deeply offensive. I wasn’t sure if he was joking around or not, but even if he was, it wasn’t funny.
“So Gemgem...”
“Gemma!”
“Yeah, whatever girl, you want to get a glass of wine?”
“I don’t really know if I want to get a glass of wine with you. I have to be honest.”
“Oh my gosh.” He rolled his eyes. “You women are so sensitive. Is it because I said you’re one-eighty, look, maybe you’re not one-eighty, maybe you’re one seventy-eight, whatever. I can see that when you move, you’re not all fat. Maybe you’re just big-boned. I can see those hips working it. Work it girl, work it.” He sang a little song and moved his hands around as if he were fucking someone doggy style. I stared at him in surprise and shock. What the hell was he doing? Was he an absolute moron? He wasn’t even that attractive himself. Yeah, he was cute enough, but he was balding and he was definitely erring toward the fatter end, more than muscular, but I didn’t have a problem with that. I’d made it a point not to mention how different he looked from his photos. I actually like guys with more meat on their bones, but his photos had definitely been deceptive.
“Look, I don’t think this is going to work out.” I couldn’t believe how polite I was being.
“Sorry. I’ve dated models before and they’ve all been slimmer. Hey, I don’t mind a little bit of cushion for the pushing if you know what I mean. Plus-size models are models too.” He gave me a slight wink and I shuddered, but not in the good way. When Lucas had flirted with me, it felt fun and cute, sexy. With Mark, it felt disgusting like he was some sort of pervert. I was not attracted to him at all and I didn’t really even want to be on this date. I figured I’d get one drink with him. If he didn’t improve after the drink, then I would leave. I was not going to spend time in a helicopter with him if he was going to be like this. I’d rather go home and clean my toilet.
“So Iwo Jima ...”
“Gemma!” My voice rose and I rolled my eyes. “It’s Gemma. I don’t understand how you can’t get it right. What do you not understand about my name? It’s Gemma. G-E-M-M-A. Can you spell that? It’s Gemma!”
“Whoa, Gemma, chillax girl. I feel like maybe we should be going to smoke some weed tonight. Might make you chill the fuck out. Wanna get high instead?”
“Oh hell no. Hell to the no!” I whispered.
“Sorry. What did you say?”
“Nothing.”
“So, Gemma.” He said with a slight attitude. “Shall we get a carafe of wine?”
“Okay, sure.” I said like a dumbass. I wasn’t sure why I didn’t leave right then and there. We walked further into the cafe and sat down at