Jae Ham
"Is this your first time on a blind date?" asks Kathleen once the waiter leaves after writing down our orders. "Frankly, no," I say while surveying the interior of the restaurant. Simple but still classy. Almost a full house. Res is the one who recommended this place. He says the food is good and the prices are reasonable. My gaze settles on Kathleen's shy smile. Oh she's a clever one. She's playing the timid card, speaking bashfully since we met up, but the gleam in her eyes suggests another story.
So far, Kathleen seems like a nice girl. But the night is still young, and first impressions don't always last. Her silky raven hair is cut cleanly just above her shoulders in an elegant way that's also manageable. She's attractive, not in a glamorous, high maintenance way, but definitely a young woman whose passing will cause men to turn their heads. She's wearing a taupe theory dress with a modest v neckline and cap sleeves. Her heels are low, implying that she's confidently beautiful without a height elevation.
"Do you prefer initiating small talk or should I get the ball rolling?" Kathleen asks me from across the square table. Briefly, I look down at the tiny vase of flowers on the center of the white table before flickering my eyes toward my date's patient smile. "I'm not a fan of small talk," I respond gaily. "But I want to ask, what are you studying right now?"
Kathleen raises one eyebrow. "Culinary Arts." All of a sudden, her face brightens. "You know, they don't allow us to carry pepper spray for self defense because they claim it's a weapon. Every student is carrying several hundred dollars worth of knives with them and they teach classes on how to break down whole animals easily with said knives. But no pepper spray. No, that's way too dangerous." She rolls her eyes heavenward, her words are dripping with sarcasm.
I nod, letting her know I'm paying attention. "What do you usually do in the morning?" I ask Kathleen, who blinks at me but answers anyway. "My morning routine includes ten minutes of sitting on my bed thinking about how tired I am." She purses her lips then adds, "I set my alarms extra early to make sure I have extra time to lay in bed and be angry about having to wake up."
The waiter returns, serves our orders, then leaves again to serve another table. I pick up my silverware and sample the food I asked for. "Don't you think dreams and the internet are similar? They're both areas where repressed conscious minds vent," I say out of the blue.
Kathleen chews for a few seconds.When she swallows, she shoots me a look of perplexity. "You're strange. Your friend told me about your unique way of thinking, but I didn't expect for you to be.. this unusual," she observes, resting her chin on the back of both her joined fingers.
I lean my left temple on my left knuckles. I smile crookedly at Kathleen. "Do you ever wonder how boys look good without makeup?" "No, how?" "Because society hasn't told boys they look good without it." At my words, Kathleen's forehead creases. "Are you insinuating I'm unattractive without cosmetics?" she asks. Her question came out calmly, even politely, but somehow I can sense its undercurrent of anger.
"I'm sorry if I offended you." "Who says I'm affronted? I was only asking you something." I can't resist a little dig. "Then how come your elbows are digging into the cloth of the table?" Her eyes fall to her elbows, which she quickly removes from the table before glowering at me.
"You're very delicate for a guy," she comments, putting in a supreme effort to tame her temper. I smile, shrugging as I say, "I prefer perceptive. I'm a psych major. It comes with the territory."
We continue to converse in between bites of dinner. I open my mouth once more. "In a society that profits from your self-doubt, liking yourself is a rebellious act. Imagine if people stop caring about their looks. A lot of companies will go bankrupt. Spas. Salons. Cosmetics. Designer brands. Plastic surgeons will be put out of business."
