Writing from the perspective of the opposite gender, discuss your date. This person is trying really, really hard to hook you, for sex or otherwise, and it's blatant, and they're not picking up on your signals regarding how turned-off you are.
It was the wink, I think. I didn’t know if he meant to do it first time, but it became more pronounced. His glossy white teeth glinted as the corner of his mouth pulled up toward his iceberg blue eye. Wrinkles creased his face and the eye opened again, leaving a lingering smirk.
I had to stop listening to what he was saying. I had to put down my fork. I hid a bite of chewed salmon in my napkin, because I could not swallow it.
He laughed a careful laugh, scripted act and scene. His head tilted back. The gel in his hair had dried cloudy.
“You are quite the foxy lady.”
My smile was a smile of top teeth and scrunched forehead. I don’t think he noticed. He was busy trying to pour more wine into my glass. It was still full from the last pour.
“I need to use the ladies room.”
Take your time, he told me. I certainly would. I could feel his eyes on me, and I hated that I’d worn heels. I took a long path to the restroom. One that put tables and diners between him and my ass.
There was a woman staring into the mirror. She was wearing a red dress, and had her heels in her hands.
I stared at the mirror too.
“What the fuck are you doing?” I wanted to ask myself. “You’re a good looking, intelligent woman. Why did you agree to a blind date? A blind date set up by
“You too?” It was the woman in red, and I wondered if I’d spoken. I hadn’t seen my lips move.
She smeared her hand across the mirror, leaving a dim streaky handprint.
“Don’t forget your heels.”
I sighed and stared at myself, still young, still smooth, still firm. No wrinkles yet. Yes, I’d become a beautiful woman.
I smeared my hand across the mirror, wondering if I could see what was underneath.
I doubt The Other Side had any better luck.
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