The Oppositist pt. I

An online profile informed me I should be looking for a 34 year old non-smoking 5’8” consultant who felt fortunate for family, friends, and health.

I walked onto the patio where only one patron sat, and without any gelato.  He looked up with the standard, twisted, excruciatingly awkward “Are you the person I’m supposed to be meeting?” expression, which I could only imagine I was emanating myself.

“Paul?” I asked, tilting my head slightly to the side inquisitively, immediately hoping this didn't come across as ditzy.

“Hi there ... uh, hiya” he replied, wiping his hands on his khaki pants before standing up.

‘He blanked on my name’ I thought, while he laughed nervously.

“Great to meet you.”  I extended my hand.

We looked at each other for a moment, mouthing the beginnings of words, both hoping this would prompt coherent spoken dialogue.   It was in this moment that I noticed Paul was neither 34 nor 5’8”.  I was with Paul, the roughly 43 year-old, 5’5” liar.

We stepped into the shop, each likely feeling as apprehensive as the other.  We’d picked this place because I’d mentioned I was a fan of their pink grapefruit gelato.  I turned hesitantly toward him.

“The grapefruit is one of my favourites, but don’t order it if it’s not your thing.”

“Oh no, I’m curious.  You said it was great, so I’d love to try it.”

‘Well he scores points for that’ I thought to myself, still trying to adjust to the height and age lie.

As we walked down the street with matching gelatos awkwardly discussing the weather and our respective jobs, I became increasingly certain that Paul was not my guy.

“You know” he said, holding up his gelato with a big grin on his face, “this is terrible.  It’s so bitter.”

“Oh ... really?” I asked, looking at my own gelato cup as if searching for shreds of dirty gym socks “mine’s fine.”

“Yeah.  I actually hate it” he said, chuckling.

I wondered why it was so funny.  Instead I kept walking and changed the topic.  My tactic was successful for about five minutes. 

“This is really terrible.  I can’t believe you would even suggest something like this.”

“Well I’m sorry you feel that way.  I guess you shouldn’t have ordered it after all.”

“It’s so bitter.  How are you eating it?” His grin widened.

“It’s pink grapefruit.” I was starting to get annoyed “It tastes like pink grapefruit.  I’m not sure what you were expecting”

“I hate pink grapefruit” he said, chuckling again

“Then why did you order it?” my voice began to rise and I made an effort to control myself.

“You said it was good.”

“It’s good for pink grapefruit.  So if you don’t like pink grapefruit, then that was a bad decision on your part, and not my fault at all actually.  What did you think it would taste like?  I mean  ... there’s a big slice of pink grapefruit sitting on top of it.  Not exactly cryptic what we were shooting for with the flavour.”

“Whatever” he said, clearly thinking both that this was a cute way of flirting, and that it was working.  “You’re just bad at making decisions.  Maybe I’ll forgive you.”  He winked at me.  “But I should probably call the shots for the rest of the night.”

Now I was angry.  His sharply tucked-in shirt began to bother me at this point.  My eyes followed the fastened buttons all the way to the collar.  His adam’s apple hit it when he laughed, reminding me of a carnival strength tester.  The date was taking a nose-dive.

 

“Hey I just want to show you something” he said with a grin as he purposefully walked over to a garbage bin.  “I want to show you how much gelato is left in my cup before I throw it out.  Terrible waste.” He feigned a dramatic sigh.  “And no one but yourself to blame” 

He was still sporting that insipid, self-satisfied grin when visions of slapping his adam’s apple and running away pranced through my mind.  The very thought caused a smile to finally spread its way across my lips, the sight of which sent him into self-congratulatory frenzy.


to be continued ...