Dated & Rated: A Short Story
--
This post is adapted from my short story called ‘Dated & Rated,’ which was featured in Excalibur. You can check it out here.
Blue sparkling eyes.
That’s the only reason I swiped right on this guy. In-person, his eyes are rather disappointing, more of a pale sky blue rather than a bright Cookie Monster blue.
Not that I’m into Cookie Monster or anything. I was always more of a Peppa Pig kid.
I run my hands through my hair, examining his other facial features as he looks down at the menu.
Thin lips. Clean shaven. Dirty blonde hair. He’s not half bad.
He looks up from the menu as if he can tell what I’m thinking. I look away, trying to cover up the fact that I was drooling over him not even a few seconds ago.
But before I can get too embarrassed, the waitress swings by.
“Are you ready to order?” she chirps.
My eyes widened. I hadn’t even glanced at the menu yet.
“I’ll have the salad with the chicken on the side,” I hastily say. The waitress nods.
Score. Every restaurant has a chicken salad.
“I’ll have the same thing,” he pipes up from across me.
“Great, I’ll have them out in ten. Ranch is good for you folks?”
I let out a “Yes,” just as he says, “No, thank you. I’ll have a vinaigrette instead, if that’s okay.”
Vinaigrette? Pish posh. I like to bask in the irony of fatty, unhealthy salad dressings, but whatever, I guess.
“So,” he says.
“So,” I repeat.
“I’m sure you’ve read my dating profile.”
My turn to chuckle. “Nah, I just skimmed through it.”
I had, in fact, not skimmed through it.
D & R — Dated and Rated — was the newest fad in Toronto, and I obviously had to try the newest up-and-coming dating app.
And, of course, I obsessed over every detail before actually going on a date. The internet is a scary place, and I could be meeting a serial killer for all I know.
