seen my “confused, bordering on annoyed” expression. “Bar bunnies, you know? The kind at the end of their rope, grasping at straws, desperate for a man…” He laughed. “But that’s not you at all, is it?” His grin said we were sharing a joke of some kind.
I couldn’t even form a response. This madness was coming at me so fast that I wasn’t sure what to do with it. Surely there were a few sarcastic remarks I could’ve fit in there somewhere, but first I had to come to terms with the fact that he’d chosen to talk like this to anyone, let alone to a perfect stranger on a first date.
“But no, look at you,” he said, more seriously, his gaze appreciative. The needle on my creep-o-meter started waggling toward the red zone. “You’re nice and trim. You keep yourself up.” He turned to flag a bartender, waving at Paul, a guy in his mid-twenties who seemed timid for a shifter. “That’s important. So many women your age let themselves go. It’s tragic.”
Still trying to unpack all of this, I stared at him in disbelief. This guy was worried about finding a woman who kept herself up, but he clearly didn’t hold himself to the same standard. What, he expected to find a girlfriend with no tummy and probably great tits while he sported a big tummy and matching tits? Like…who was he trying to kid? Talk about throwing rocks in a glass house. I hoped the shards struck his jugular.
Was it too late to pull that runner?
“She’s just gotten here and already this date has gone tits up,” Niamh said.
So much for respecting my privacy.
“Say the word, and he ends up in an unmarked grave,” the man between Niamh and me, a guy I had never met, said softly, facing straight ahead. Very sly. “I’m good to help, if you want. Say the word. That guy is a joke. You should invite him outside and then ring his bell. Dicks just don’t get it.”
My date’s elevated voice rang out across the bar, authoritative and demanding. He was clearly annoyed he hadn’t already been seen to regardless of the fact that both Paul and Austin were helping other people. Either that, or he was trying to show off for me.
If it was the latter, boy was he in the wrong bar. I didn’t dare warn him, though. I kind of wanted to see how it would all play out, while also wanting to knife myself to escape this horrible foray into dating life.
“Hey,” he barked, “can I have another gin and tonic here, and a…” He turned to me as Paul finished up and hurried over.
“Glass of Pinot Noir,” I murmured.
“Which one?” Paul asked. “We have two now, since you like that kind so much.”
“Oh…” I pulled the wine list to me, looking for the options.
After a silent beat, Gary moved his hand in a circle to hurry me up. “Come on now, don’t take all day. Women!” I glanced up in time to see him rolling his eyes at Paul exaggeratedly. “They can never make up their minds.”
His condescending chuckle drop-kicked something deep inside of me. How many times had I been minimized because of my sex? How many times had a man reduced me to some clichéd version of an indecisive female, or a bad driver, or a hysterical woman, because I didn’t have a penis to swing around and constantly fiddle with? They had always done it as if to say, “Aren’t they all the same? As men, we just have to humor them. It’s our lot in life, sadly. Can’t live with them, can’t kill them, am I right?”
I hated the grating laughter that always seemed to follow. Laughter like this clown was currently exhibiting. It seemed to establish a them versus us mentality, with me on the outside. Me as the lesser.
Fire kindled in my belly.
Grab life by the balls. Raise your voice until you are heard.
Only, I had no idea what to say. I had no idea how to combat something like this, aside from knifing him. I’d always been taught to react to such “jokes” with a silent smile, to act like boys would be boys even though the belittling made me quail inside.
“I got hers, Paul,” Austin said as he approached. He placed a clean wine glass in front of me, his gaze heavy on mine. He was checking in, I knew. Ever my knight, my guide when I didn’t know