I SUCK AT SMALL TALK

It was at that moment that I knew it was going nowhere. “So, it was really hot today, huh” I said while she brushed a glance at me before looking at her plate. “Yes it was.” Again throwing me a brief glance and quickly looking away. I knew I had to do better but my brain couldn’t get the right words to say. The awkwardness was followed by an even more awkward silence where for a moment our eyes met but we quickly shied away because I could not bear to see the look of disappointment on her face as I am sure she did not want to reinforce my failed attempt to impress.
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This was our first date and besides her unforgettable red dress and the amazing food, nothing else was going right. I found myself talking about the weather, the cutlery and occasionally about the waiter that served us and the way his English left a lot to be desired. With every passing minute, I felt my male pride shrink and my ego get punctured. I was nervous and my legs shook beneath the table. I slowly started to sweat as I thought of a method of redemption from this ever growing nightmare.
Should I go to the bathroom, find the waiter, clear the bill and escape? Maybe not. Should I just suggest that we eat in silence then go our separate ways? That wouldn’t work either. At that moment, she puts her phone to her ear. Her face changed from a slightly tense look to one of freight. “She what?” she said out loud. “Okay, I am on my way.”
I did not know whether to feel sad or relieved to hear this because much as it was well played, I knew it was an excuse to leave. The mixed feelings soon turned to disappointment. Why didn’t I think of that? She talked about her friend and a dead dog, at least that’s what I think she said. My mind had drifted off so far away that she ceased to exist. Feeling disappointed as I watched her go, I called to the waiter to bring me a glass of whiskey. Every sip tasted better than the last and the walk home felt even better.
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