Date Me
Speed Dating at the Unitarian Church
My aunt and I sat at her poorly lit breakfast nook in the kitchen late at night, two bowls of vanilla ice cream between us. She looked up and explained, curtly, that I was running out of time and hair. She said that the following Saturday was a speed date night for singles at the All Hearts Unitarian Church. I wondered if there were speed dates for couples and if that would be at a different church. She had already paid the $35 dollar entry fee to the ladies club and anyway, there just wasn’t any way I wasn’t going. The only thing I could think to say was: “But I’m not Unitarian.” She picked up both bowels and cleaned them.
The night of the speed date, I put on my best shirt, pants, and a pair of shoes. I wasn’t sure if any of them went together, but they were my best of each. The event took place in a gymnasium attached to the church, which I thought set a too competitive tone for something that was already being timed.
There were several rows of tables with chairs positioned across from each other going down either side. The chairs looked more suitable for a parole hearing than a meeting to find Mr. or Mrs. Right. I walked to the back table that had crackers, meat, cheese, and punch. I wondered if, liberal as they were, Unitarians would have spiked punch for such an occasion. I poured myself a plastic cup. No such luck.
I started the speed date on the side of the table that didn’t have to move; they would come to me. The first lady sat down. Her white nametag said Staci. The “i” was dotted with a heart.
“Hi,” she said and gave a big animated wave from across the table.
“Hi, I’m Dave.”
“Oh!” She tilted her head to the side with an ear to ear grin.
“What do you do?”
“Oh just a boring office thing. What about you?” She did the head tilt again and showed me all her teeth while waiting for my reply.
“I’m in graphic software de-,” but before I could finish…
“Oh! Computers! Oh, wow!” She shook her head in a vigorous knowing way, but her eyes said she needed to know more.
“Yeah……there’s a lot of computer work, but ther-”
“Oh! I bet. I bet.” She slapped the table and giggled as if it was an inside joke we had established years ago on a camping trip.
“Yeah. So….yeah.”
The next session brought, in front of me, another lady whose nametag said “Maurine.” She was carrying a napkin with several slices of cheese and meat.
“Hey, Maurine. And you’re…” she looked down at my tag as she put her napkin down, “Dave?”
“Yes.” I felt like I was defending the validity of this.
“Can you believe the meat?” she asked.
“I didn’t have any.”
“Well, you’re not missing out.” She looked around as if we were about to plot a conspiracy.
“They’ve probably had it in the back of the freeze forever,” she said in a low tone.
I laughed. She whipped her head around to face me. She looked me in the eyes, dead center.
“No one cares about food anymore. Its freshness. Its content,” she said.
“Yeah, it’s starting to get a lot of attention. The chemicals, McDonald’s, and all.”
“I grow my own vegetables.” From there she listed more varieties of tomatoes than I thought existed. Why so many tomatoes for one person? She ended the list by popping her last meat slice in her mouth.
“Putrid. Unfit,” she declared as she chewed.
“Then why are you eating it?”
“What?” She looked wounded.
The next to last session for me brought over a lithe brunette with a determined walk. Her heels announced her trajectory and her chocolate locks were in a high pony tail. Her nametag said “Cindy” with a fish drawn above it.
“Hey Davey,” she smiled with her lips together and reached across the table to shake my hand. Firm and her two or three gold rings got the best of my fingers.
“Are you a marine biologist?”
“Huh?” She leaned forward as if she may have misheard.
“Your fish. On your nametag.” I pointed to her chest where the drawing was.
“Oh. No. I got bored.” She looked off to the corner of the gym.
“What do you do?” I asked.
“What? I mean who cares. It’s a boring job, probably like yours, right? I hate trying to explain it, when it’s really nothing.” She put both hands on the table and all her fingers pointed to me. I hesitated.
“I mean does that offend you? Who am I to say? Maybe you have a really exciting job, like spy or something.”
“No, no. You’re right.” I laughed. “It’s absolutely boring. I wish I was a spy.”
She smiled. “Right? The gadgets, the cars? Get out of here.”
“The women.” I leaned forward.
“Ah, can’t forget the women, but you might have to work on that part.” She looked under the table and for a minute I thought I would be physically sized up.
“You do have nice shoes though,” she said. “The shirt, too. Not sure if they go together, but they’re nice.”
“Well, thank you. It’s what I wear when I’m not spying.”
“I do like this song.” She bobbed her head to what sounded like a song by Al Green.
“Isn’t it a bit seductive? For a church.” I smiled.
“Yeah, but Unitarians. Liberal,” she said.
“Then you’d think the punch would be alcoholic,” I said.
“Right? The bastards.” She looked around sizing up the room with bright brown eyes.
The session was over and I felt bad because I hardly paid attention to the last lady. I was looking around to see where Cindy went, to see if she was laughing as much as she did with me.
The lights came up all the way in the gym and everyone looked a little embarrassed and bleary eyed. The lady who had talked at the beginning, talked again. I saw Cindy from across the gym hanging out by the door and I tried to edge my way through the crowd to catch her. We were officially dismissed and Cindy lit out the door. I exited about twelve feet behind her.
“Hey,” I called after her. She didn’t slow.
“Cindy!” I saw her putting keys to a grey Pontiac. “Hey, Cindy.”
“Oh.” she looked up and acted like she could only just now see or hear. “Hey, Davey.”
“Hey. This was fun. I mean not this, but the part with you. I had fun talking.”
“You had fun talking.” She smiled in the way a mother smiles at her kid when it’s being cute.
“Yeah.” I laughed. “I mean. Did you enjoy our time?”
“Listen, David. I had…you were nice.” She was pulling out a cigarette and lighting it in one fluid motion.
“Ok. I was nice. So nice constitutes maybe some coffee?” I tried not to smile like an idiot, tried to only use my eyes.
“Man, you get those cars and gadgets and you’ll have no problem with the women part too, Davey.” She laughed and took a drag and exhaled through her nose.
“Ok. So help me out. I’ll need practice. Huh? Just some coffee?”
“Look, David. I got stuff. A lot of stuff and I just. I just came up here because a family member insisted…”
“Me too!” I interjected. “See, it’s another thing. I didn’t wanna be here either.”
She laughed. “You have things going for you and it’s not that. It’s just…I’m on the rebound and I’m not even ready. You’re nice but you’re not nice for me, I mean, for you, for your sake.”
She was opening the car door and halfway in, getting her keys in the ignition. I couldn’t think of any rebuttals to stop the rapid-fire or her exit.
“I’m just…look, I’m not even Cindy. My name’s not Cindy. I just wrote Cindy. I’m not fucking Cindy and I drew a fish because I was bored. I’m not a marine biologist. I don’t go to this church. I don’t go to any church. I’m not even Unitarian.”
She sounded like she had begun to cry as she continued her ramble. She had dropped the cigarette at my feet, half-smoked and slammed the door. The car started and she tore out of the parking lot. I couldn’t think of anything to say the whole time. I just stood there.
I watched the taillights and said to no one in particular, “But I’m not Unitarian.”
