The Second Date.

Originally, my plan was to let her talk a mile a minute about their life and hobbies and such. It's our second date, this time to an Italian restaurant rather than a Mexican one, because tacos and gas don't mix for a good icebreaker. She smiles at me and goes on and on about her life, growing up a military brat. How she lived in Germany, Korea, Taiwan, Arizona. I force a smile and laugh along with her as she recalls a story about when her dad had to babysit her for the day which forced his hand to drag her along base with him.

Now what was it... I think, swallowing down pasta with nervous sweat tricking down my neck. Angela? No, that was the girl from before that was an accountant or something. Becky? Louise? Cameron? Tyler? The more I get lost in my thoughts, the more I stop listening to Whatever-Her-Name-Is reminisce.

"Carter? Carter." I snap out of my thoughts and force yet another obviously strained, what-am-I-doing-here smile.

"Yeah?"

"You weren't listening."

"What? No. Keep going. I want to here more." I've always had this issue where my face goes red whenever I tell a lie. Woman-Who-Was-A-Military-Brat's face drops and she looks concerned.

"Are you okay? You're really flushed." Before I get the chance to say anything, she picks up a napkin and leans over the table to wipe the sweat from my forehead. One glance down and I remember exactly why I forgot her name. If possible, my face gets even hotter and I splutter out a, uh, something, before launching back in my chair, distancing us.

"N-N-No, Boobies, I'm all good, I'm--" She doesn't even have to say anything to cut me off. I do it myself. A silence looms over the both of us like a thundercloud and from the dark look on her face, I'm about to be struck.

"Boobies?" Though she's pissed, she seems like she's beyond used to the comment. "Tch. Typical men. Disrespecting women and objectifying their bodies. I should have known you were one of those misogynists." She grabs her clutch and stands up from her chair, about to leave.

"No! Wait!" I shoot up from my chair, taking her wrist before she can leave me.

"What?" She hisses, eyes darkening even more (if possible).

"I, uh, I just..." I sigh deeply and let my hand fall to my side. "I'm just really bad with names. And I know that this is our second date and we've been texting over Tinder, but yeah. I'm so sorry."

Another silence. Hot-Boob-Lady-With-Satan's-Glare had an unreadable look on her face. I force another smile, one of please-don't-use-the-knife-on-the-table-to-kill-me-with.

"I get it." She sighs, yanking her hand away with a forced smile in return. "Men are the inferior race after all. I guess it makes sense that you'd make such an idiotic mistake." She laughs and sits back down, taking a sip of wine. "Sorry I got so defensive. I should have known better than to put all of my expectations in you," she grins at the stunned look, motioning to my empty seat.

I order Chinese when I get home. Feminazi-With-The-Nice-Rack shouldn't have been so surprised when I walked out on her crazy ass.

©SelfTitled, 2017