Hear Us Roar | Anthology

120 Blind Dates by @Kunfabulate

The latest tick mark on the paper magnetized to the fridge almost made her burst into tears. The hot tears of frustration and the salty tears of exhaustion threatened to leave sticky trails down her cheeks. After one-hundred-and-nineteen unsuccessful blind dates, it was inevitable.

Why hadn't she just given up? Kaia asked herself that daily. Determination encouraged her to push through the pain and disappointment – she would find her soul mate. And while that was a motivator, the stronger motivation was, honestly, desperation.

Kaia Phuong had just hit her twenty-sixth birthday, and like every year since she'd hit her twenties, her mother had harped on her about finding a romantic partner. It wasn't until last year that she bowed to obedience. Agreeing to blind dates might've been her worst decision yet – but she still went on them. One-hundred-and-nineteen of them.

She had wanted to pour herself a large glass of wine, but her body had other plans. She collapsed onto her bed, face smooshed against the duvet. Her purse swung from her loose grip onto the floor. One of her heels fell off. A groan rumbled the room. She should just give up. Blind dates were exhausting – dating was exhausting.

From her purse on the floor, her phone buzzed. Afraid it might be her mother nagging on her about her string of failed dates, she almost didn't answer. But she feared letting her mother go to voicemail more than the lecture. So she crawled off her bed and dislodged her phone from her purse.

It wasn't her mother. It was Blind Date #120. A Rashad Singh, a thirty-year-old banker with enough money to provide Kaia a comfortable life. The perfect match for her, according to her mother. This one had to go well, lest she unleash her mother's wrath upon her.

Rashad had texted to confirm their blind date for next week. Kaia responded with a lie: that she was looking forward to it.

Honestly, she just wanted to sleep.

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Rashad was late.

Tardiness wasn't exactly a novelty. After one-hundred-and-nineteen blind dates, Kaia came to expect every kind of mishap and faux pas. She'd had drinks spilled on her. She'd spilled drinks. Her dates had been late. Even she'd arrived late a few times. Once, she'd called her date the wrong name. Being late was minor.

Somehow, she had managed to find the motivation to show up at the café. It was more likely, however, that sometime between one and three in the morning, desperation had slipped into the sulci and gyri of her brain. It whispered temptations that maybe, just maybe, this guy was the one. That maybe her mom was right – that he was a perfect match.

Desperation and its wicked hopes kept her seated at the table, despite his tardiness.

Her wristwatch read ten-fourteen a.m. They'd agreed to meet at nine-thirty. A drip of anxiety entered her veins with a sip of coffee. She'd had dates show up an hour and a half late. Forty-five minutes was nothing,

Although, if her dates were late, at least they'd text. Her phone informed her that she had no notifications. The fact that Rashad was tardy didn't bother her – it was the fact that he hadn't bothered to let her know he was going to be late that irked her. This was the guy that had impressed Kaia's mother? So far, he had not impressed her.

The barista approached her table for the third time. He poured her a second coffee with a strained smile. His eyes shone with pity.

"Thanks," she said, blowing on the refill.