Blame It On The Wine

My wine glass is already empty by the time our hostess announces we're about to begin. The other speed dating participants move away from the bar and toward the candle-lit tables. Our hostess, with paper thin glossy lips and a toothy smile, informs us that we may approach anyone with a name-tag and have a five minute "date." Taking a seat at a table in the back, I peruse around, hopeful yet nervous about my potential dates. The lights are dimmed, casting a soft and sensual glow over the other participants. A wave of anxiousness hits me and I turn my focus to the gentle French music playing in the background.To a non-French speaker this would certainly add to the romantic ambiance, however the song depicts a woman never finding love after a failed relationship. Perfect; that really gave me a boost confidence.I take a deep breath as our hostess announces that we may begin our dates.

The first to approach me takes me by surprise. He looks old enough to be my father, possibly in his late 50's. There's an awkward silence between us before he clears his throat and begins his introduction.He carries himself with superiority as he describes himself. The way he talks makes it seem as if he's pitching a business venture to me.This detail along with the dress shirt and trousers suggest he must be a business man of sorts, maybe even a tycoon with that massive Rolex watch mantled on his wrist. I can't even admire his watch for long with all of his hand gestures. The motions pronounce the toned muscles of his arms in rolled up sleeves. The blue and white pin-stripped shirt bring out the blue tones in his almost silver eyes; very much wolf-like to match his personality. I notice curly white chest hairs poking out from his unbuttoned collar and turn my attention to his salt and pepper hair. My eyes glance down to meet his and I can see the desire and lust in them. His eyes move from mine to my chest and I can feel the blood rush to my face. Thankfully his gaze doesn't rest there for long and he continues with whatever the hell he was talking about. As he speaks he smiles pure white teeth and gives a throaty laugh at his own jokes. At least one of us is enjoying this.

Thankfully the punchline of his joke is interrupted by our hostess.He looks me over as if he wanted to devour me on the spot and I simply give a smile in return. It seems the second he leaves another man takes his place. A much younger man, perhaps in his early 30's so several years older than myself. His smile is genuine and reaches to this eyes. Those eyes; emerald green with a hint of amber twinkling in them and framed by black Ray Bans. He was an art major in college,like I currently am. He however focused on digital graphics while I'm more into fashion design. His voice is filled with passion as he describes his latest project and he too likes to use his hands as he speaks, just not as much as the old perv before him. The shirt he'swearing is the most horrific thing I ever laid my eyes on; bright mustard yellow button up with a faint off-white damask pattern. At least it's original. Every few seconds or so I catch him nervously licking his lips and scratching the back of his neck. Our conversation starts to slow down and I can tell he wants to keep this going. When he asks for my number with a shaking voice I politely decline. He nods and mumbles something I couldn't make out.

Once again the hostess saves me from another uncomfortable situation by chiming to find new partners. My date leaves and I flag down a waiter to fill up my glass again. Right after he returns I catch the sight of a woman who appears to be my age. My heart skips a beat as she beams at me and glides over to my table. She gracefully sits across from me and introduces herself. She's an intern for a local designer and is originally from a small town outside of Paris. Her accent drips from her mouth ever so slightly and her lips move as if every word she speaks is a soft kiss. Red hair cascades down over her shoulders, complimenting her milky white skin. The dress she'swearing shows off quite a bit of that silky skin, not that I'm complaining. The bright sunflowers on her dress somehow seem appropriate with her personality. Her eyes are shining with a subtle playfulness and behind the chocolate brown I see desire. For a brief moment I lose myself in those eyes then I feel a cold yet soft touch and realize she's holding my hands across the table. Before I can react our hostess declares it's time to move on. My date flashes me a devilish grin before getting up and leaving the restaurant. Without hesitation I follow after her and feel a surge of adrenaline that I did not expect to get from this night.