Bob

Here I stand, naked in front of my closet racking my mind as to what to wear. I knew I should’ve gone shopping. As it stands, I’ve got three things to choose from. My bright red taffeta bridesmaid dress, which I might add is a size too small, my blouse and pair of slacks I wore to my very first job interview, or my black sheath dress I bought 3 years ago when I was going through my I want to look professional stage. Thinking about my favorite television show, I thought “what would Carrie wear?”

“She’d go with the red taffeta” I said to myself shaking my head. That’s no good. I don’t want the poor guy to think I’m some kind of fruitcake.

Which brings me to the point of this. I had met Bob at my local Italian Restaurant. As soon as I locked eyes with him across the restaurant, I was a goner. In my mind, he was a perfect male specimen. Sure, some would say he was a little old, had a bald patch starting to show, and might have eaten too many snack cakes in his life, but hey, nobody’s perfect.

I grabbed the black dress and slipped it on. I wondered whether I should go heavy or moderate with the perfume and makeup. I’ve never been too much into stuff like this. I dabbed on my perfume to my throat, wrist, and back of my neck. I sure hope he likes the scent of baby powder. I contemplate taking some pictures of myself before Bob shows up, you know to show my friends and get their opinion. Too late though, because I heard two honks outside. I dashed out, checking my breath.

I gotta say, at least he’s got style. I climbed into his shiny black town car and noticed how clean everything was. Spotless leather seats and all the glass and metal parts were super shiny. He made small talk with me all the way to the park where he had set up a romantic picnic for us. It was beautiful. He had set up a gazebo for us covered in flowers and golden lights that twinkled like fireflies. There was an elaborate spread out with wine, and to my delight, the biggest brownies I’ve ever seen. Giving me a kiss on the cheek he led me over to sit.

We spent the next hour talking about our lives. I found out he was an electrical engineer whose salary far surpassed what I could ever earn as a cashier at our local discount store. I asked him what he could ever see in a girl like me. “Well, you’re very pretty, and well kempt. I bet you keep a clean house “ he told me.

“Im clean?! That’s why he likes me?” Whatever. I guess he did call me pretty, let’s just focus on that. I plastered my best smile on my face as he started gathering everything and putting it into the trunk. I couldn’t believe my good luck when halfway down the road he asked me if I would like to go check out his house. I’m secretly glad I wore my good underwear. I’m amazed when he pulls up to a large stately house 10 minutes later.

“This is your house?! I ask.

“Yeah” he says grinning at me. “I thought you’d like to check it out since you might be here quite often.” Those words melted my heart. What a sweet guy. He unlocks the door and leads me into the cleanest house I’ve ever breathed in. Spotless. Spotless floors, spotless rugs, spotless furniture. I had never met a guy who was so tidy.

He left me sitting sitting on his couch for a minute, and he came back carrying cleaning supplies?!!? Seeing the confusion on my face, he shrugs and says “Well, how do you think it stays so clean?” I just stare blankly back at him.

“Come on! Let’s get started!” I swear, he sounded almost giddy. Needless to say, that’s the last time I went out with Bob, and the last time I ever trusted anyone who ate at the Italian place.