My mind is now clear of any guilt, and I am ready to partay. I scan the backs of the people sitting on stools around the bartop, hoping that the man with the blue shirt will be there so I won’t have to stand here looking all alone for too long.
At first, I don’t see him. But then, in the shadows of the tavern’s back corner, I catch a hint of blue. I think he’s there, with a mug of beer in his hand. He’s staring at me like he knows me. And he’s really tall. Freakishly so.
My heart skips one beat, and then another. I begin to tremble as my eyes take in the details of the man in the blue shirt. I whisper to myself when it becomes apparent that my night is about to go right in the terlet. Oh my god. This can’t be happening to me right now! It’s Dev, and he’s here to witness my shame.
And then an even more awful thought: Is he my date?
He can’t be. He was sitting right there next to me at the computer when I clicked on his profile. I saw his picture, and I saw the picture of the man I’m here to meet, and it was most definitely not Dev’s.
I take a moment to let the awful sink in. We’re going to have our first dates in the same place, with each other as witnesses. What a disaster! When he asked me where I was going I should’ve just told him! Why did I decide that flirting and playing hard to get were a good idea?
Destiny must really have it in for me. It’s the only explanation for what’s happening here. There’re over a thousand bars in this town, and he could’ve chosen any one of them, but he’s here! In my bar! Dammit!
I recognize the expression on his face as the one that’s probably reflected on mine. He’s confused, but then it’s as if he’s seeing something funny.
I’m so embarrassed. He’s laughing at me! He’s probably noticed that I’m wearing the same dress that I wore last night. What does that say about me? Probably nothing good. He’s wearing a different shirt. Maybe he has on the same pants, but this shirt is definitely blue and the one he wore last night was yellow.
My eyes scan the crowd again. There’s another guy wearing a blue shirt here, but he’s got to be in his seventies. I don’t think it’s legal to Photoshop your picture that much.
Dev makes his way around the bar. I meet him halfway. He speaks first, saving me the trouble of having to come up with something charming and witty, a feat I’m completely incapable of accomplishing at this point.
“I guess I know where you’re meeting your date now.”
My smile probably looks more like a grimace than anything else. Humiliation level: Eight out of ten. “I guess you do. Seems like we have the same taste in bars.”
He nods and looks around, over my shoulder and then out to the sides.
I check my watch. I’m exactly on time. “So, your date’s not here yet either?” I ask.
“I don’t think so. It’s hard to say for sure, because I never saw her picture.”
I shake my head at him. “Why didn’t you look? How are you going to find her if you don’t know what she looks like?”
He shrugs. “I just figured she’d find me.”
I nod, feeling awkward but glad for the conversation. Silence would be worse. “I guess that’s a good strategy. You’re kind of hard to miss.”
“Plus, it takes all the pressure off. She can look at me and decide without confronting me whether she actually wants to talk to me or not.”
“That’s very considerate of you.” I look more closely at him, narrowing my eyes a little bit. He doesn’t seem at all worried about being stood up. “How long are you planning on hanging around here to see if she shows up?”
He shrugs. “I don’t know. A half hour?”
I nod because I can’t think of anything else to do, and scan the crowd again. Just then, the door opens, and a man with a blue shirt walks in. He’s definitely heavier than I expected him to be based on his profile, but he does have brown hair like the man in the picture. I wait to see what will happen. He appears to be searching for someone.
Dev gestures with his chin. “Maybe that’s your guy. I should probably go, give you your space.”
“Okay,” I say, not really paying attention to Dev anymore. I’m focused on this new guy, trying to figure out if he’s the one I saw in the picture. I don’t think he is, though. His nose is totally different. Would somebody Photoshop a different nose onto his face like that? I should’ve looked at that picture more closely. I should’ve printed it out. Dev warned me that people play games on those sites. Imagining this guy being my date, I could just picture myself holding the printout up at his face, pointing at it in anger, and yelling, “Explain yourself, sir!” Photoshopping dating site pictures should be outlawed and violators pelted with rotten eggs. I hate this. What am I even doing here?
“I’m going to go back over to the corner,” he says. “You give me a signal if you have any problems.”
Dev has all of my attention now. “What? Are you like my bodyguard?”