Brett Talbot Imagines

Blind Date

She sat on a stool at the end of the bar in her favorite dress, hair and makeup done, pantyhose covering her legs. Her feet were bare, her heels have dropped from her dangling feet the moment she sat down. She was nursing her third alcoholic beverage since arriving and her fifth of the night. She scrolled through her phone, hardly paying attention the few patrons of the far less than full bar, until someone sat down beside her.

"Can I buy you a drink?" He asked.

She looked up to see a tall, conventionally handsome man, with muscles and a smile that she was sure had broken more than a few hearts. "Oh, no thank you. I should really get going soon."

"Really? You practically just got here." He said with a laugh. Her eyes widened at the statement. As if he had realized how strange that sounded he stopped laughing and turned to her. "We came in the same time. I held the door for you." He explained.

"Oh. Well yeah, I did just kind of get here, but this will be my fifth drink of the night and if I have many more I may never find my way home." The two laughed together for a moment.

"Well, if you won't have a drink, will you at least tell me what's with the sour look on your face?" He asked with a hopeful look.

"Blind date gone awry. Or rather another blind date gone awry."

"How so?"

"Why should I tell you? I don't even know your name."

The man held out his hand and introduced himself. "Brett. And you are?"

"Y/N."

"It's nice to meet you Y/N. Now on with the bad blind date."

"You're rather pushy aren't you?"

"It's part of my charm."

"I can see that. Alright, well for starters when I showed up he looked at me like I was some kind of creature been brought before him for slaughter. Then he opened his mouth. He's an accountant and spent half the evening talking about that exciting line of work. I mean, I like numbers just as much as the next smart fat girl but a lady can only take so much. Plus he made a snide remark about feminism and when I tried to explain to him, to enlighten him about things such as political policies, the government and what feminism really is, he looked as if the teacher had just told him there was a pop quiz worth half his grade and he hadn't been to class in a month." Y/N shook her head and took a swig of her drink.

"What did he say? About feminism I mean."

"Oh right, he said that it was, and I quote, 'just another way for women to demonize and demaine men.' and that 'men are just as oppressed as women and other minorities.' that 'white men are the real minority of this country'. I tell you, I just about choked on my chicken."

"He sounds like a real douche. Anyone that knows anything knows that real, intersectional feminism is about equality for everyone. Not just about being terrible to men."

"I never said he knew anything did I? Have you ever just looked at someone and before they even open their mouth you know they're stupid? He is one of those people. I just hope I never see him again."

"Do you go on many blind dates?" Brett asked.

"Yeah, all of my dates are blind dates. My friends set me up. Most of the time the guy doesn't even know what I look like until I get there." Y/N replied as she finished off her drink and against her better judgment asked for another.

"And why is that?" He questioned further, each of them accepting the new drink in front of them.

"You really have to ask?" Y/N questioned but the only reply she received was an expectant look from the man beside her. She sighed and took a sip of her drink before answering. "No one looks at me, a girl with rolls and cellulite, bushy brows and untamed hair, a girl with a nose that looks perfectly acceptable from the front but from the side, well you can see, it's clearly not meant for this face. A girl with two chins and a family curse of no neck, no one looks at a girl like that and think. Her. That's the kind of woman I want to be with. So of course none of them see my picture. I can sometimes manage a second date solely on my charm and intelligence, or that fact that they don't want to seem shallow, but most of the time dates, like the one tonight, are cut short. Either because they are shallow or, and this is the reason I prefer, they can't stand sitting across the table from someone who looks like me and is smarter than them. It's a sad notion but most people believe all fat and ugly people are lazy and stupid. I am neither. Though the man tonight was rather kind, despite his anti-feminist views and cutting our date short he asked to walk me home. I declined, obviously, I could hardly stomach the sound of his voice for another minute, so I told him I would walk myself home."
"But you didn't."
"Didn't what?"
"Walk home."
"No I didn't, instead I came to a bar where I had my first nice conversation with a man that he initiated in at least 6 months, though I could argue it was longer, and not once did he make a face at the way I looked or look anywhere but my eyes." She smiled, looking to the man beside her.
"I'm flattered." Brett said with a smile.
Y/N laughed. "Oh no not you. I was talking of Sid, the barkeep."
His smile fell in embarrassment. "Oh."
Y/N laughed again. "I'm joking. His name is Timothy. He's my uncle. Can't you see the family resemblance? Neither of us have a neck." She chuckled and waved to the man behind the bar, but Brett just looked at her in confusion.
"Why do you pick on yourself like that?" He asked.
Y/N sat quietly for a moment, taking the last sip of her drink before answering. "Because if you do it to yourself it doesn't hurt as bad when other's do it to you. If you tell yourself enough times that a word doesn't matter, that it's just a word, that's all it becomes. I'm still in the process of teaching myself that they are just words."
Brett reached out and touched her hand. "Well, if it helps at all, I think you are a great many other words. Brilliant, funny, charming, attractive, and I would like to take you on a date some time."
"Really?" Y/N asked in confusion.
Brett chuckled at the look on her face. "Was I too subtle? Should I try a more direct approach? Would you like to go out to dinner with me some time?"
Y/N nodded. "I-I would like that very much."
"Are you busy tomorrow?" He asked.
"No."
"Would you like to go out then?"
"Yes."
The two smiled at one another and Brett pulled out his wallet, paying for both of their drinks. "Good, do you mind if I walk you home?"
Y/N shook her head and smiled. "I don't mind at all. I would love that."

With that Y/N hopped down off the bar stool, replaced the heels on her feet and followed Brett out of the bar and down the street. They would walk the streets for hours and even years later she blamed that sixth drink but she knew, even then, that she would never want to go out with anyone else ever again.