Dev’s eyes go a little wide. “A blue shirt?”
I nod. “Yes, a blue shirt. That’s how I was supposed to identify him. And I put my picture on my profile, so he should’ve been able to find me easily. I didn’t Photoshop it, and I didn’t use one that’s ten years old, either.”
Dev smiles. Then he puts his fist on his forehead and tips his head back, laughing like he’s at a comedy show. “Oh, God!” he moans, standing up straight again.
“What? Is this funny? Is me getting stood up that hilarious?”
“Oh my god,” he says, looking at me again, “no. It’s not that. I can’t believe this.”
I’m starting to get miffed, because I have no idea what he’s talking about. It feels like he’s laughing at me, though. I fold my arms across my chest. “What? What don’t you believe?”
His fist comes off his forehead and he grabs the front of his shirt and pulls it out at me. “I’m wearing a blue shirt.”
I shrug. “Yeah. So?”
He shakes his head. “I’m your date.”
I look at him like he’s crazy. I think all this dating stuff has caused him to drop a few marbles along the way. “What? No. You’re not my date. My date’s name is Brian something-or-other.” The site only gives first names, but that seemed like enough at the time.
“You picked the guy you said was my twin, didn’t you?”
Now I’m embarrassed all over again. He knows! He knows I’m crushing on him! I need to try to play this off. “What are you talking about?” Yes, this is my plan. I’m going to play stupid and see how far it gets me.
“You picked the guy, who you said was my twin, to go out with. That was me.” He points at his chest.
The picture he’s trying to paint for me is beginning to come in clearer. “What are you saying? Do you have two profiles on that website?”
Now it’s Dev’s turn to look embarrassed. “Yes,” he says reluctantly.
Now I’m not just confused, I’m also annoyed. “Why? Why would you do that?” I’m trying to figure out if he set this up as some elaborate trap to catch me looking like a fool. But as soon as that thought enters my mind, it leaves. No one is that clever, first of all, and second of all, he’s not mean like that.
He looks up at the night sky and then down at his feet. He’s rocking back and forth from his heels to his toes when he finally answers. “I might have been a little bit concerned that nobody would want to date a guy with no hair who’s so tall he looks like he should be in the circus.”
If he’d given me any other excuse, or maybe if I were a different person with fewer scars on my soul, I might be mad at him for the trickery; but my heart goes out to him. He always seems so confident and sure of himself, it never crossed my mind that he might be self-conscious about his condition.
I look him in the eye so he’ll see that I mean what I say. “That’s ridiculous. Why would anybody care about that?”
He lifts a non-brow at me. “Are you serious? Have you been out in the world lately?”
I let out a long sigh. He’s right. People are completely materialistic and focused on looks in our world. Hell, I looked at the photos on the website, and I picked a guy based not just on his personality but on how handsome his picture was.
“Where did you get that picture you put on the profile?” I ask.
“It’s a picture of my cousin. I got his permission, though, so I wasn’t being a total creep. I mean, I didn’t steal anyone’s identity.” He looks up at the stars in contemplation. “I may still actually be a creep, though, now that I think about it.” He turns his attention to me. “I’m really sorry I did that and that you got involved.” He tries to look cheery, but doesn’t quite pull it off. “You’re the first person who asked for a date, though, so there’s only one victim of my stupidity.”
“I don’t get it. Why the mystery? Why not just be yourself?”
He looks at the ground. “Call it a lack of self-confidence. That’s probably the most accurate way to describe my thought process.”
“How could a guy like you lack self-confidence? You’re tall, good-looking, charming, smart, a great dad . . . the whole package.”
His smile is so adorable it makes it hard for me to breathe.
“Did you forget to put in your contacts today?” he asks.
I shove him gently. “Stop. And you have a great sense of humor, too.”
He shrugs. “You see what you see, but believe me, most women don’t get the same impression when they look at me.”
I sigh. “Well, let me apologize on behalf of all women for those few dopes who are deaf, dumb, and blind. Believe me, they do not represent the majority.”
“That’s nice to hear.”