A Love of Her Own

     Love stories sucked.
     That was the so pleasant thought that rushed through Diana Somners' head as she turned the last page of Pride and Prejudice. Love stories like those made it seem as if it were possible to get the guy you set your eyes on, as if getting a man were as easy as snapping the fingers. And she hated it.
      Why didn't they make love stories like real life? Not everyone could be a beautiful but smart and witty young lady like Elizabeth Bennett who found the man you'd marry accidentally, and out of prior hatred. Sometimes you were a 30-something year old woman who had tried and tried again for the past 10-20 years to find the love of your life, but failed miserably because they were all sorry enough to either walk away or cheat or--
       She shook her head. It's just a book, and one written over 200 years ago, at that. She took a sip of her Fauxblague, the red wine tart on her tongue.
      That was one of the perks of being single. She could drink if she wanted, when she wanted. She could go out to a restaurant like this, eat, and not have to worry about eating something small and simple. She could--
     "Ma'am?"
     She looked up towards the voice that had interrupted her thoughts. "Yes?"
     "Have you decided?"
     "Oh yes. I'd like the steak, make it medium rare." She'd treat herself.
     "And for sides?"
    "Mash potatoes with white gravy and asparagus." A pause. "Oh, and add extra gravy."
    The waitress nodded and, after writing her order down, confirming it, and taking her menu, she said: "I'll be back in a bit with your food. Would you like some more wine?"
     "Yes. Just go ahead and bring the whole bottle." She'd need it, after reading a story like that of Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy's.
     "Oh. Erm, alright then." The waitress left.
     Her glass was a little less than halfway empty, but, for her, it was too empty. She was still sober enough to notice that she was sitting in a booth alone, surrounded by couples and families chatting and laughing and having a gay little time. Why did I come here again?
     "You don't look too happy."
     Oh great, Just what I need. She reluctantly lifted her eyes to the owner of the voice, who was a man with blonde hair that reached his ears, icy blue eyes, and a stubbled jaw. He wore a blue plaid, button down shirt and a pair of jeans. His sleeves were rolled up to the elbows, exposing muscular forearms. I really don't need this right now.
      "If you're looking for a one night stand, you're not going to find it here." Diana snapped.
      He gaped in shock. "Excuse me?! I was just trying to be nice! You look upset!"
     "Heh. Yeah. Like you'd care how I feel."
    "Why wouldn't I?"
    "You're a guy!"
    "Excuse me?! I take that to offense!"
    "Good! You should!"
    "Just because I'm a guy doesn't mean I want that!"
    "I'm sorry. Do I look like an idiot to you?"
    "You know what: fine! If you don't want to have someone to talk to, then I'll just leave! Clearly, there is a reason you are sitting here by yourself!" He started to get up to leave.
    "Excuse me! You don't know what the hell you're talking about!" She struggled to keep her voice low. She had to remind herself they were in a public place.
    "Obviously, I do! You are making biased judgments based on me being a guy. Not all guys are sex-crazed. Some of us are good people. I saw you sitting over here by yourself, looking upset, and wanted to see what was wrong! Is the world such a bad place to you that you can't believe someone might be trying to be nice for once?!"
    Her heart sank. He had a point...
    He moved out of the booth, and she grabbed his arm. "Wait!"
    The guy looked back at her. "What?"
    She took a deep breath, hesitated, and said: "Look: I am sorry, OK? Let's just say I don't have a great history with guys. Can we start over?"
    He smiled, and sat back down.        Afterwards, he held out his hand. "I'm Matthew, Matthew Korschev. I don't think we've met." He winked.
    Diana struggled to contain her laughter as she took his outstretched hand. "Diana, Diana Somners. It's nice to meet you, Matthew."
    "Please, just call me Matt."
    She nodded, and he continued: "So what has such a beautiful woman like yourself looking so sad?"
    She opened her mouth to speak, but the waitress came back with her food.     "Your steak, medium rare. And your sides, mashed potatoes with extra with gravy and asparagus. I'll be bringing the bottle of wine in a bit."
    Diana's face turned a dark shade of red as Matt raised an eyebrow at her.
    "Did you want anything?" The waitress asked him.
    "No thanks; I'm good."
    She nodded and left.
    There was silence as Diana looked down at her food. Earlier, having all of this seemed like a good idea, but with Matt watching, she suddenly felt very self conscious and embarrassed at everything she'd ordered. What was previously a treat now seemed like a cruel trick.
    "Aren't you going to eat?"
    Her eyes widened in surprise as her head shot up. "I-I...w-well...you see..." Her face grew warmer.
    His face softened. "Don't tell me you're afraid to eat in front of me, are you?"
    If her face got any hotter she might combust. "What?! Of course not! That would be ridiculous!"
    "Then eat."
    Swallowing hard, she cut into the steak and began to eat.
    "See? That wasn't so bad, now was it?"
    If it wasn't for the steak in her mouth, she would have cussed him out. However, she did manage to narrow her eyes in a "looks could kill" manner.
    He chuckled. "Hey, hey, hey! No need to give me the 'Death Glare'!"

    During the meal, the waitress brought the bottle of wine over to her (or, better described, their) table.    Having been brought a glass for himself, they split the bottle. As she ate, they talked about each other's lives.
     Diana learned that Matt, like her, was an only child. He was about a year older than she was, and had actually been married before, but had ended it when he realized he just did not love his wife any more. ("That's what happens when she's completely nuts!" he'd said.) They had no children together. He was a English professor at the local university, which she honestly did not connect with him.
     She told him about her troubles with men, her "habit" of eating out, and her job as an accountant. ("You actually enjoy that?!") She told him of her love for books and tennis.
      By the time the wine bottle was empty, she felt like she was talking to a close friend. Her plate had long since been finished, and she was sure the light buzz in her head was from more than the alcohol.
     Finally, he gave her a small smile and said: "I don't want to leave, but I know it's late. I've got work tomorrow."
     Her throat closed. "Yeah. So do I."
     Neither moved.
     "We can't stay here all night." He said. His deep voice was slight raspy from the alcohol, and she'd be lying if she said it didn't make her feel giddy.
    "I know. I just hate that time went by so fast."
    "We could meet up again." He nearly blurted out.
    She was taken aback by the offer. Maybe I have drank too much.    "Really?"
    "Yeah. You," he smiled, taking a deep breath "you're not too bad. Y'know, for someone who thought I was going to--"
   "OK, OK!" her face was red again. "I said I was sorry! Geez, lay off!"
   He chuckled, then asked: "Can I have your number?"
   "Only if I can have yours." Oh my...Did I just...?!
   A wide grin stretched across his face.

   After trading numbers, they stood up. "Are you going to be OK getting home on your own?" he asked.
   She smiled and nodded "Yeah."
   "Call me when you get home so I know you're OK."
   Her face flushed at that, but she nodded. He gave her a hug, which she gladly accepted. She definitely didn't breathe in the scent of his cologne.
   After pulling away, he pushed back a bit of her dark brown hair from her face, and softly kissed her cheek. Her heart slammed in her throat as she felt his stubble brush against her.
   "I'll talk to you later." he whispered, after pulling away.
   Then he turned and was gone from the restaurant.
    Standing there, stunned, she put a hand to her cheek. She didn't even attempt to hide the stupid grin that appeared.
Maybe love stories weren't so bad after all...