I arrive at the restaurant 15 minutes early as usual. The last thing any man wants to do is leave that bad taste in a girls mouth when she's been waiting for you. It's hard enough as it is to live up to a girls expectations and I don't want to start off on the wrong foot.
The restaurant is your standard pretentious fare. Dim lighting dark enough to not see who you’re really with, cheap replicas of expensive items placed just far enough away that you can't tell how much of a knockoff they are, and plants surrounding the entrance, like a fucking potted jungle. Seriously? Plants? Are people really going to judge a place by how much greenery is in the waiting area? ‘Oh dahling, I love this place! They have ferns out front! We must eat here!’ That person doesn’t exist but I hate him with every fiber of my being.
The waiters in places like these always seem to kiss ass just enough to get that extra tip, which I'm forced to give no matter what so I don't come off as a cheap fuck even though I just paid three times as much as I should for a fucking salad and three ounce steak with grass clippings spread all over it.
OK, it's been like five minutes. Where is she? Am I not important enough to be nervously early? You know, I could be at home right now doing better things than waiting for you! I've been watching this one show on Netflix that I can't get enough of. I so would rather be watching that than sitting here in this dark hoity toity waiting area with too many plants... Hey! These plants aren't even real! They have plastic fucking plants! And they're dusty, too! What the fuck!
I look over and see this guy staring at me. Shit! I quickly avert my eyes back to the plant. He knows I'm being stood up. I bet right now he's talking to the woman next to him and laughing at me. Damn douchebag with his t-shirt and sport coat combo. 2002 called, they want their fashion sense back. I should fucking walk up to him right now and... No. Later. Guys like him always need to get up and use the bathroom. It must be something with the fucking product he puts in his hair. It must leak into his brain and tell it to go and pee every thirty minutes or something. Fuck him.
I glance back over and he's gone. Where'd he go? To his table? The bar? I should stand and check. That would be too conspicuous. God damn it. And it's been another five minutes! Where is this fucking bitch?
"Jacob?" I hear, lifting up my head. As I do so, I get a quick glance at Carla. 3 inch heels, dark who gives a fuck top and a small purse with really long straps.
"Um, hey Carla," I say as I stand.
She puts out her hand to shake like we're in a fucking business meeting. Did I already fuck this up? "Were you waiting long?"
"No, I just got here." We awkwardly shake hands.
She smiles and pulls her hand back, then tilts her head slightly. "You ready?"
"Yes! Of course, let's go."
We walk up to the desk and this gorgeous woman walks up. I mean, like her hair is blinding in this dim cave of a restaurant, her lips have that slight pout that drives me fucking crazy, and her eyes make me lose 20 minutes of my life staring into them, even though it's only been 2 seconds... Like... Damn!
Why the fuck do they hire these fucking supermodels to fucking take us to our fucking tables? It's hard enough to impress a girl these days without having to pretend that women like this don't give me mental erections. 'Why no, this perfect goddess looks like shit compared to you! Seriously!' Ugh. And they say they always want you to be honest. Don't fucking believe that. I was honest about that once and the date didn't make it to the fucking appetizers.
"Hi, welcome to Connard Prétentieux. My name is Paige! Do you have a reservation?" Her greeting knocks me out of orbit and back to my body. It hurt a bit, I think.
"Yes," I say. "It's under Jacob Dahl."
She nods and her hair bounces soft and fluidly like anime boobs. I force myself to turn to Carla and I smile in her direction. I feign eye contact by staring at the bridge of the nose. She doesn't notice and I see that she smiles back. Good sign!
"Right this way, Mr. Dahl." Paige turns and begins to walk away and I follow. My date trails behind me. I think. I swear the entire fucking world has shrunk down to only this womans ass as it shakes back and forth.
Too soon we reach the table and she walks away, leaving me alone with... With... I know it starts with a C.
She sits down. She. Her. Who is she again? This whole night has been sabotaged by this fucking douche cunt place and an ass that sways smoother than any rocking chair ever could!
I'm still standing! How long has it been? Quick, do something. Sit, you stupid fuck!
I pull out my chair and sit. Thankfully I don't get that wrong and my butt lands square onto the stupid uncomfortable chair. I hate this place so much.
The woman whose name I have completely forgotten says something, but I didn't hear. Jesus, what's wrong with me?
"Pardon?" I awkwardly spit out.
"This is a nice place," she repeats.
"Yeah, it is. I come here all the time."
Why the fuck did I say that? I never come here! I despise this place now! I mean, what's with these napkins? They're green! Who the fuck has green napkins?
There's a pause already, isn't there? This is the first awkward pause of the night! God fucking damn it!
"Was it hard finding the place?" I blurt, trying to cover the silence with anything at all.
She shakes her head. "No. I just used my phone."
"Oh," I ever so smartly retort. "Those things do everything now."
God, I'm such a cunt! What? She's giggling! Was it a polite uncomfortable giggle or a real one?
She's actually responding! "I know, right! Last week this friend showed me how I can ask it what song is playing and it will listen and give me the song name. So cool!"
OK, this woman does not know technology at all if that old piece of software acquired by every smartphone manufacturer to pimp out their own music selection actually impresses her. I bet you five bucks she bought that song just because.
She pulls out her phone. "Look, here's the song right here!"
She shows me her music collection. You fucking owe me five bucks, bitch!
I smile and nod to that. "That's awesome!"
Without even thinking I rub the back of my neck with a hand and roll my head around, popping a vertebrae. My eyes roll around, glancing at the other patrons of this fine fucking establishment when I see him. I see him! Yes! The assfuck with the sport coat and t-shirt combo.
Soon enough, the waiter arrives and hands us our menus. Why are they so fucking long and thin? What is this, a menu or an end credits roll printed out in book form? The waiter, named Zitwatrawawho gives a fuck french name, takes our drink order and wanders off, leaving me holding my long triangular dick.
We both silently peruse the menu. Well, I'm guessing she is looking at it, but I'm still trying to think of her god damn name! C... Ca? Ce? Ci? Co? Cu? Cy? Gah!
The night sputters on about as well. I ask my standard questions about her life and she rattles on all the relevant answers. Honestly, I couldn't really tell you much of what she's been saying. Not because I wasn't listening, but really... I just fucking met the girl. She hasn't built up enough 'give a shit' credit to want to retain much of it. I think she said something about a dog, but I'm not sure if she owns one or just likes them.
In the corner of my eye I see douchefuck stand. I try not to look too excited as I see him head for the bathroom.
"Pardon me," I say as I set my stupid green napkin on the table. "I need to head to the mens room."
"Hurry back," she says with a grin. Weird. Am I doing well? How? Are her expectations that low?
I stand and begin walking to the bathroom. There is a bounce in my step that I try hard not to show. I don't know if it works, but I feel like I'm weaving through the crowd like I'm fucking Riverdancing! Fuck this guy!
When I get to the bathroom door, I pause and close my eyes. I wonder if he saw me with... What's her name? I bet he's been laughing all night about me.
I step into the bathroom. There he is, pissing into the urinal! Of course he's using the fucking middle one! Asshole can't be considerate enough to use the side ones, can he? Who the fuck wants to be shoulder to shoulder with a guy while they pee? Not me!
I snuggle right up to him in the urinal next to his, brushing our shoulders ever so slightly. I feel him pull away from that. I turn to him and he glances over at me. I nod.
He looks back down to what he's doing. OK, it's time for a different tactic.
"So," I start. "Remember me from earlier?"
He looks back over, confused, and replies "What? No."
"We were in the waiting area. I was sitting by the fake tree waiting for a girl. She did show up, by the way... Just in case you were wondering."
"I wasn't." The guy is tunnel vision looking down at his dick now.
"Sure you weren't. I know you were sitting there judging me. Oh, poor guy got stood up! Let's both laugh at how pathetic he is!"
The douchebag cunt zips up his pants, presses the flusher and walks away. I turn and grab his shoulder. "She did show up!"
"Don't touch me!" He waves his hand pushing mine off his shoulder. What a complete asshole!
"Hey now, there's no need for that."
He heads for the door saying "Don't fucking touch me."
He grabs the door knob and twists it, pulling the door open. I push forward and slam the door shut again. My hand tingles from the force. Before I know it, I've flicked the lock as well.
"I know what you're going to do. You're going to head back to that cunt you're seeing and tell her all about how the crazy pathetic loser found you in the bathroom and tried to convince you that he wasn't alone, aren't you?"
Don't fucking do this, Jacob...
"I don't know who the fuck you are, man! I've never seen you before!"
"Sure you haven't."
Just walk away! Seriously, you don't want to do this on a date.
My knee connects with his midsection, sending him bending forward. I pull on his stupid sport coat and send him flying into the urinal that he just pissed in. His head slams into the bottom ridge with a loud clang and he falls hard.
God damn it, Jacob! What did I say?
He's still moaning. Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!
I pick him up and pull the coat back down. His head is bleeding. I am not prepared for this! I can't get these clothes bloody!
Either way, I need to finish it now. He stumbles. I grab the back of his head and slam it into the urinal three more times when a pipe comes loose and water runs down to the floor. I let the limp dick fucker go and he drops face first into the water.
CARLA! That's her fucking name! Carla! Fuck yes!
He coughs a bit and weakly tries to shift his head, but I step on the back of his neck, pointing his face right into the water. It isn't long until his arm stops moving. Jesus. Took long enough.
And I have a fucking date to get back to...
I head to the mirror and touch myself up. No blood. No water. No evidence that I was involved at all. Perfect. I wash my hands and dab a drop of water under each eye and let them roll down a bit. I dry my hands, then unlock the bathroom door.
OK Jacob. Time to play this up.
I burst from the bathroom in a panic. The simple people sucking down overpriced underportioned food will eat this up! Oh the horror! A waiter walks up and I explain in blurry detailless fog what I saw. This poor poor man was laying on the ground bleeding with his face submerged in water! I of course didn't know what to do so I came out to get some help!
You may ask yourself 'but Jacob, what about the people that saw you go into the bathroom minutes ago?’ To that I reply with a big fat HAH! Do you honestly believe that these people aren't so completely and totally immersed in their own asses that they could see what anybody else in this restaurant is doing?
The waiter goes into the bathroom to check out the situation and I head back to the table. Carla looks worried. I don't really understand why, it's not like she knew the fucker.
"Is everything ok? What happened?"
"It's too terrible to explain," I say, annoyed that I need to keep this charade going.
Her eyes take on this sheen and get slightly pink. She really is saddened by this. Huh...
"Maybe we should call it a night," she suggests, with a quietness to her voice. Damn fuck shit cock! I fucked this up, didn't I. I'm going to be tainted now as 'that one guy who saw the dead guy' and that will be the end of this. Yep, I can see it now. It's fucking over.
"No! Why? It's still early."
"I can't be in a place where someone..."
"Sure. We can find somewhere else," I ask, hopefully.
"I think I should just head home."
I nod, defeated, and stand. We walk out of the restaurant without paying, because really, when the fuck would I ever want to come back here?