A damn good time

Sometimes a man just wants an audience

Her dress hugged soft, rolling curves in all the right places, but it was really her eyes that read seductress. I could tell she’d been squarely in this spot many times before with men just like the one that sat across from me. “I know you from somewhere,” he said craning his head left to follow her steps up to the door of the restaurant. While trying and failing to restrain his eyes from places a man should not look at a woman unless he’s seen and is seeing her naked. She smiled and looked at me, “No, I don’t know…”.

Her eyes again pulled him in as she glanced back in his direction and shaking her head she said, “I don’t think so.” Full lips now slightly parted held an open position, and nothing says kiss me like a smiling, open mouth.

“Oh! Well should I run now?” I said with feigned humor and too much enthusiasm, turning an already tense moment to stone. The sun was intermittent by this point and rain was on the way.

In the twenty minutes before her arrival I’d learned that he needed a sweater lately because no matter the season, when it was overcast, he felt cold. Perhaps it was his age. Perhaps it was his diabetes. Perhaps it was the sweet tea overload that capsized his perfect health during covid which created the perfect conditions for the diabetes that now disrupted his life. Perhaps it was his circulation. But he had a regular routine of physical activity starting with meditation every morning. And then there were also days he committed to lifting weights. Maybe he should talk to his doctor about it. But he hated doctors and medicine too. So that wouldn’t do any good. As a hot-headed, warm-blooded, cold-hearted Floridian, I love overcast spring days. But suddenly, I was cold too.

She cautiously came a bit closer to our table. My misplaced interjection between their moment of intimacy gave her a power that hung in the air. She was smiling on the inside. I could feel and understand it. I like having power over men too. His curiosity pulled at his spine and opened his chest in her direction. He was now erect. I wanted to look down for further confirmation but was too embarrassed. Not by the potential sight of an unplanned salute, but self-conscious about how I must’ve looked, silently watching my date play the I-know-you-from-somewhere-we-both-know-but-will-pretend-we-don’t-since-you’re-with-someone-else-game with a stranger.

To distract myself from the conversation they loved having an audience for, I took to studying the design of the menu. I wondered why Middle Eastern restauranteurs use this curvy font on menus– you know the kind. Is it to elevate the American diner’s experience? As if a curved letter in black ink could ever feel like the streets of Beirut. Do you feel more excited to order food because of how the font is written on the menu? I bet someone has studied that. I bet chatGPT has an answer for that. I tried my hand at guessing the pronunciation of dishes that had two vowels placed next to each other. Two aa’s definitely make “ah”. “Kibbeh Aa’taa”.

She laughed.

Was it something he said? I’ll never know because my arms were still cold but my face was getting hot so I kept it buried in my menu. I hoped my upper lip sweat beads that love showing up at the wrong time wouldn’t make an appearance and blow my cover. Maybe in her presence, he forgot my name. That could be the reason he hadn’t introduced me. “I’m Chandra,” I should’ve said if I had any ounce of confidence. Maybe that would’ve made me more attractive to him; showing that I had some fight, some attitude, some homegirl.

I wasn’t always this patient, but I’ve learned to wait. I still don’t like it, but waiting is all it feels like I do now; waiting to be seen, considered, heard, appreciated, and given a real chance with someone beyond a first date. If I’d driven my car like I always am inclined to do, but shamed for doing in the city— “take the train!” everyone says— I could’ve gotten up and left, and walked away silently with no explanation and without turning back. Maybe that would’ve made me more attractive— some dignity, some self-respect, some ice-cold fire that he could feel. En Vogue did say to give him something he can feel. But instead, I waited for them to finish their game and come together, to their A-HA, “That’s where I know you from; the shop!” moment. They enjoyed coming to that realization together, discovering where they knew each other from. That was lovely to see them come together and solve a great mystery in real-time.