The Trouble of Being ‘Prepared’ on a First Date
You didn’t meet her on Tinder. You didn’t add her on Facebook after your cousin tagged her in one of her pictures in the “Weekend is for Partying” album. You are not embarrassed about this meeting. You don’t feel shallow while telling any of your friends about it. You actually met like people used to meet earlier. Someone set you up on this date. Doesn’t sound right, that expression. Set-You-Up. Almost like they are expecting a saucy story in return for their favor. But that’s how it happened.
You are not as guilt free as your maternal uncle though, who in the 80s was probably studying in DU and met your aunt with a simple twist of fate during a protest rally on a Sunday. You still saw her tagged in one of your friend’s pictures and you asked your friend to “set you up”. You made your profile public the next day so she could take a tour of your amazingly witty updates and expertise in black and white photography.
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You email her at maddesirefortraveling@somemail.com. She responds immediately.
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Three days later, she’s waiting for you in front of your favorite Thai restaurant. You see her from the opposite side of the road. She’s wearing the same dress she was wearing in the picture when you first saw her. Easy identification. You like that about her. That she didn’t make an effort to buy a new dress or look any different.
(She on the other hand bought two new tops but couldn’t decide between them in the past three hours. So she went with the safest option!)
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The dinner goes better than planned. You order lobsters to impress her. She says she loves them to impress you. Then you both struggle with it and share a laugh at your own silliness. “People don’t meet in book shops and record stores anymore,” you complain. “But I’m glad there are still people who make other people meet,” she replies.
You didn’t come here hoping for this to become anything more than just a torrid summer affair. But in the last one hour and thirty minutes, things have changed. She didn’t want you to pay for her food. But you insisted. You don’t know how not to. So she said the dessert is on her. You walk out of the restaurant towards an ice cream parlor, while your hands meet. Blueberry for her and chocolate for you.
You are sitting inside the cab and waving with your right hand when she says goodbye. The fingers of your left hand are crossed. She opens the gate and then runs back towards the cab to tell you something. “My parents won’t be back in another two hours. Do you wanna come up?” You uncross your fingers.
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She kisses you first. You close your eyes and remember the moment when you first saw her just six days ago. You had always heard these stories, didn’t know things could move so quickly for you too. She lets you hold her in the moonlight on the open terrace and whispers, “You’re a good guy.”
But that doesn’t mean you cannot make a move.
You slowly unzip her dress from behind, waiting to see how she reacts. She starts unbuttoning your shirt. Soon you’re on her bed and start rolling your tongues on each other like you were blueberry flavor and she was chocolate. She touches your member, you cup her breasts. The AC is at 19 degrees but you still feel your sweat. Suddenly you notice the framed picture of her with her parents on the table next to the bed.
You remember they’ll be back soon. So you have to finish what you started to make it a perfect ten. You begin taking off her jeans and ask her if she’s ready. You have never been this forthright in your life. But she seems to like it. She bites her finger and nods to say yes. You are a nice guy, like she said. But at that time you only want to be inside her.
In the final moment you reach for your wallet. You are both relieved and glad that you brought it with you. And then it dawns on you. You don’t want this to be a one-off. You actually like her. But what if when you leave, she calls her best friend to tell her about you. And then realize while talking about the evening, that you were always expecting to end up on her bed.
You were already ‘prepared’.
She could be happy that it worked out so smoothly between you two, but what if it didn’t. What if you’re tearing the wrapper and she sees the glint on your face which was also present when you were buying the packet the previous day.
Will you still be the good guy?
What are the odds?
Sayantan Ghosh was born in Calcutta. He is a compulsive traveler, writer, procrastinator, and has a postgraduate diploma in anxiety and occasional panic-attacks.He currently lives in a 11x11 room in New Delhi and works as an editor for a publishing house. His work has been published in Northeast Review, The Bangalore Review, Running Out of Ink, eFiction India, Eastlit, Clockwise Cat, and Strip Tease- The Magazine and one of his short stories was longlisted for the DNA-Out of Print short fiction prize 2014. His chaotic blog can be read at http://sayantansunnyghosh.blogspot.in/