MY NINE YEAR FIRST DATE


“Someone’s at the door. Hold on.”
“Okay . . . I’m holding … on and on and on. I’ve been holding on for nine bloody years. Is this a gay date or what? If you’re not interested in love everlasting with me along with hot erotic encounters, go away. Leave me alone. Pick up your copy of Engineering, or Golf, or International Tiddlywinks. Stick your nose into that and enjoy yourself, if you can. Or better yet, go find yourself a straight date … that is if you can find one. That would be comical. What have I been doing wrong all these years that leaves me withering like a dried up tree trunk on the side of the road – soon to topple over and be trampled underfoot. I’d give my eye teeth for a good solid, meaningful relationship with you – other than my left hand. Why is making a commitment so difficult for you?”
“What the hell are you rambling about?”
“Sorry, Pete. Didn’t realize you were back. Who was at the door?”
“UPS, with the birthday present you sent. Thank you.  How did you know it was just what I wanted?”
“Because you’ve been dropping hints?”
“Me? Dropping hints? Never happened. But, thanks; it’s beautiful.”
“You’re welcome … will you marry me?”
“What did you just say?”
“I said … will you marry me?”
“And why would I do something like that?”
“I don’t know. Maybe because you care about me.”
“I do care about you but why would I want to ruin a perfectly good friendship?”
“Why do I even talk to you? Goodbye.”
“Wait a minute. Charlie? Are you still there?”
“Yes. I’m still here … as always.”
“Is that supposed to make me feel sorry for you?”
“As a matter of fact, yes. Better that than nothing.”
“How about I take you out to dinner? Better yet, I just got my tickets to David Hwang’s Madam Butterfly. Come with me.”
“Oh, that sounds like a real fun evening – watching Pinkerton ruin Cio Cio San’s life. And by the way, in the true Japanese tradition, both parts were played by men. No, thanks. Think I’ll stay at home … alone, and watch re-runs of Perry Mason.”
“Oh, God. I’m coming over.”
“No, don’t do that. I never want to talk to you again.”
click
“Charlie?  Oh, shit.”
buzz buzz buzz
“No one’s home. Go away.”
“Open the damned door or I’ll break it down.”
buzz buzzzzzzzzz buzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz
“Okay already.”
door opens a crack
“What do you want?”
“Take the chain off and let me in.”
“What for?”
“I want to talk to you.”
“About what?”
“About you and me.”
“You and me? That’s a laugh. Go away.”
bang
“Charlie, please. Open the door.”
“Go away. Leave me alone.”
“You stupid shithead. Open the door.”
“I love it when you get romantic.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Romance, jackass.”
“Is that what this is all about?”
“For starters, yes.”
“I can’t do that. I don’t know how to do that.”
“Gee, what a surprise. Why not?”
“Because.”
“Because why?”
“Because … I’m afraid.”
door opens a crack
“What did you just say?”
“Please, Charlie. Open the door. Don’t shut me out like this.”
“What are you afraid of?”
“… Commitment. It terrifies me.”
“With me?”
“Yes, with you. I’m afraid I’ll mess it up and lose you.”
“Holy shit.”
“Yes, holy shit. Now, please open the door and let me in.”
“Let you in for what?”
“Your life … your heart … your mind … your soul … your bed.”
“Why has it taken you so long to say that?”
“I don’t know. Caring, loving … scares me.”
“I’d never hurt you. You know that. Well, not unless you wanted me to.”
“Very funny. Stop it. I’m serious.”
“Marry me, Pete. Let me show you there is nothing to fear – ever.”
“I don’t know.”
“Bite the bullet you bastard and put me out of my misery.”
“Okay … I will … bite the bullet, but first, let me in.”
bang, rattle, door open
“Come on in.”
“Just so you know, I never do anything on my first date.”
“Very funny. At least you haven’t lost your sense of humor. And just for your information, we’ve been on this bloody first date for nine years.”
“Has it really been that long?”
“Yes, it has.”
“I have a confession to make.”
“Which is?”
“Your birthday present.”
“What about it?”
“I’m not sure what it is.”
“You said it was just what you wanted.”
“I know. I didn’t want to hurt your feelings.”
“So, now you’re ready to hurt my feelings?”
“Charlie!”
“It’s a glow in the dark dildo.”
“That much I got, but what’s the crank on the end for?”
“You’re kidding?”
“No, I’m not kidding.”
“Shut up … come here and meet your fate.”
The End
Thanks for reading this short story. Here’s a little tune to send you on your way. Cheers, JT.
http://chirb.it/2abzG8



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