Blind Date #RomanceBlindDate

Blind Date

This is a contest submission for @Romance - #RomanceBlindDate

Mae x

___________

My shoes scratched against the back of my ankles causing a burning sensation to make its way through my feet.

I looked down at my black peep toe pumps as I stepped over the wet pavement, splashing water through my shoe with each step and let a wave of regret flush over my mind. I wouldn't be wearing these soaked, overpriced, too tight, restricting, painful, gorgeous monstrosities if I was rugged up with a tub of double choc chip cookie dough ice cream in front of Netflix at home. The thought of my favourite, soft bedsocks cradling my sore, tired feet instantly made the pain worse.

I immediately didn't care that it was Friday night, that I'd be home alone letting life pass me by. I couldn't think of a place I'd prefer to be right now. Anywhere but this cold, dimly lit street would actually be better.

I tucked my bright red knee length trench coat tighter around my body in an effort to shield it from the cold a little more. Under it I wore a simple little black dress that I paired with a thin rose gold necklace that fell vertically from my neck to my chest, where it nestled, hidden beneath the dress' opening.

Becky is a mastermind when it comes to peer pressure, I thought. She could convince an Eskimo to install airconditioning. I didn't even want to go on a date. I'm perfectly happy in my little, comfortable world alone. But Becky sees me as a project she needs to finish. Every blind date she has arranged has crashed and burned. From arrogant, pig heads that are rude to waitstaff to clingy, overbearing types that beg to follow me home for a nightcap.

With every new face she would set me up with, I would try to imagine them fitting into my cosy, introverted lifestyle and not one has made the cut. If I'm honest with myself, I can't imagine having to share my couch with someone else. I imagine 'Mr Arrogant' dismissing my TV soap operas as 'Unintelligent babble' and 'Mr Stage Five Clinger' needing to hug me all of the time. Just the thought makes my gag reflex move into the attack position.

None of these imperfect outcomes sway Beckys resilience in finding me a suiter though. With every failure, she sees a more endearing conquest she's yet to conquer.

"352 Broadhurst Street" I read aloud from my phone as I stood at the stoop that led to a set of dimly lit glass twin doors. I raised my eyes from Becky's message and settled them on a sign at the top of the building face that read 'Blind Date'.

"Original" I thought with a roll of my eyes. I'd heard of this restaurant before. Guests are sat in a dark room where they can't see an inch in front of their face and are expected to consume an entire meal without so much as the glow from a TV screen to see with. I generally wouldn't be caught dead at a place like this. Nothing screams 'unhinged' quite like spaghetti sauce slopped over the face and dress of a semi-formally dressed singledom.

I adjusted my dress with a wriggle of my legs, making it sit back in its place just above my knee. One last quick glimpse of my phone caught me calculating the hours left until I could be back at home under the comfort of my knitted blanket. 'Two hours at most. You can do this' I exhaled.
__________

A concierge met me at the door as I entered the foyer, moving to take my jacket and usher me inside. The champagne coloured room was pleasantly warm and didn't give the impression of a restaurant at all. Long black curtains draped from the ceiling and fell softly on the wooden floor.

"Ms Russell?" A glamorously beautiful blonde with thick red lips called to me from a small reception desk to the left of the room.

"Grace, please" I smiled, now walking toward her as I self consciously fussed at my deep brown, elbow length hair to smooth it back into place.