Green Ink: the frothings of a raving lunatic.

Black Date Death (#date)

dedicated to an old friend I've unfortunately lost touch with who coined the term

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Jessica slumped against the bathroom counter, forehead and elbows propped against the mirror, hands cradling her head. Through blurred vision, she appeared to only have one eye. The events of the evening rushed through her mind.

"Just don't get black date death," said her brother Dereck.

"What's that?" asked Jessica.

"It's when you get a big piece of food stuck in your front teeth. It kills a date."

Jessica laughed. "I'll try not to."

Unrelenting butterflies danced in her stomach as she finished her hair and make-up. She didn't know what to expect on the first date she had ever made on a dating app, but Fred's picture sure looked cute. He was a Microsoftee and about her age. She suggested they meet for dinner at an intimate restaurant within walking distance from her home. How bad could one dinner be?

The waiter set down two dark swirling gin cocktails spiked with an elderflower and blackberry liquor. Tearing her eyes from the mesmerizing drinks, she marveled Fred's handsomeness. His photo hadn't done him justice.

The waiter served a small plate of bacon wrapped dates stuffed with goat cheese and drizzled with a balsamic reduction. They dissolved in Jessica's mouth almost more delightfully than the way Fred's hair flopped into his eyes. He had a slow quirky smile and sometimes started sentences awkwardly like he might be nervous too, like he didn't appreciate his own good looks. She needed to not screw this up.

The waiter set down two glasses of Cava. By the time two-thirds of the bubbles had steeped her brain, Jessica knew she would invite him back to her place. She wanted this evening to end with more than just a kiss outside the restaurant.

They ran out of things to say when the paella appeared, a heavenly combination of warm rice, prawns, scallops, chorizo, linguisa, bell pepper, onion, green peas, lemon, and cilantro. Well, to be honest, maybe the divine flavors caused Jessica's mind to draw blanks.

Two glasses of tempranillo arrived at the table along with Moroccan spiced lamb skewers and a savory eggplant dip. Conversation got going again. They talked about how to find a good dentist when you are new in town. The room was spinning, and Jessica mentally undressed Fred without really listening to what he said. She excused herself to go freshen up.

Jessica fluffed up her hair, pushed up her breasts and smiled at herself in the mirror. And that's when she saw it. Black date death. Likely from the first course two hours ago. Oh, God no! No wonder he seemed so awkward. Well, it couldn't be helped now. She pulled the black bit of food out from between her front teeth, stood tall, pushed her shoulders back and returned to the table.

Two glasses of port, a pot of chocolate custard topped with whipped cream, and two spoons sat elegantly arranged on the small table. However, both chairs sat empty. Perhaps he went to the restroom as well. Jessica sat down and the waiter hurried over looking anxious.

"I'm sorry ma'am, your companion said he had an urgent matter to attend to." Jessica at stared at him in disbelief. The waiter cleared his throat nervously, "He did pay the bill," he said in a hopeful voice.

Jessica threw back one of the glasses of port and pulled the little dish in front of her. She took a bite and it's richness made her knees weak. She smiled, stuck her finger into the whipped cream and licked it off. It's was a pity Fred had left, but if she weighed the pluses and minuses it had been a pretty good night. She ate another spoonful and closed her eyes in ecstasy.

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