Just Shake!

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A couple weeks ago, I wrote about a date with a Charming Man who has since been nicknamed “Apple Juice.” Here’s the conclusion:

The following Wednesday after the gelato/apple juice date, a friend and I met at a neighbourhood spot to enjoy the unseasonal yet Ari-approved temperature. I had actually cancelled this particular get-together because I had so much on my plate to finish (bacon was not one of these things). She messaged me midday and asked if instead of gorging on food we just met up for a quick drink. My arm need not to be twisted to suck back some sauce so I agreed – obviously. I’m not one for knowing hot spots nor great spots for grabbing a drink – so she gave me some options, I chose Allen’s on the Danforth and we met up later that evening.

Upon arriving, we were promptly seated on the patio, placed our orders and I begin filling her in on the adventures of Apple Juice.  She told me what I already knew and got my head back in its right place.

I hear my name from the starboard side of the patio table (I was in Pioneer Girls as a child, I know this is to the right-hand side. DO NOT TEST ME DURING THE RE-TELLING OF THIS STORY!) Can we all guess who it was? Of course we can because this is my motha-f*ckin’ life.

Me: HI! (said way too excitedly, my friend in front of me looking from me to the glasses-wearing giant beside the table)

Apple Juice: *offers his hand, then shakes my hand* Hey, how’s it going?

Now let me stop the script right here for the following reason: I’m mostly sure I’ve blocked the rest of the conversation like a trauma. Did he just shake my hand? I do know that I introduced him to my friend and he shook her hand but did he actually shake my hand? I’m unsure…the answer may reveal itself as I keep going.  Small-talk, small-talk and he’s back to his table on the patio DIRECTLY BESIDE US. How did we not see him when sat down?  Did he show up aft–WHAAAAAT THAAAAAA FUUUUUUUU—and he’s on a date.  He’s on a date, y’all!  He’s on it and he’s beside us. My friend is obviously curious and asked me who he was. I replied: THAT is Apple Juice. Her eyes widen because what are the odds of this happening? His date is a Zooey Deschanel-type and I think I was most offended for her. How about he doesn’t get up in the middle of his date to say hello to someone he’s been on a date with that very same week?  She doesn’t know how we know each other, but he sure as hells does….sooooooooo that’s disrespectful in my eyes. Maybe he wanted to pre-empt awkwardness but he shouldn’t have assumed that’s how I roll.  We’ve been out twice, I obviously know you’re still dating. Just be cool, dude. Do not come over to my table and say hi.  Also…I think he shook my hand.

My friend and I complete our drinks and snacks and are constantly breaking out in fits of giggles because the entire situation is ridiculous. I had choices of places to go and I picked this one on a whim, the patio is huge and he’s sitting directly beside us, and oh yeah…did I mention the reason we couldn’t get together that week is that he had to work on a school presentation that night. *single blink*  I was so tempted to stick around to see if he paid the bill because they were eating/drinking a lot more dollars than gelato and Tim Horton’s apple juice would ever cost! But alas, it was cold and we were done with the evening.

That Friday, he sent me a text telling me he caught a bit of a cold and hoped I had a great rest of my week.  I replied and said I hoped he felt better and thanks. Last week he sent a text thanking me for suggesting that he take his suit jacket to a tailor and told me about a show he played for CMW. *infinite blinks* What do I do with this? Is this text-small talk? Really? REEEEALLY?  I didn’t respond because he didn’t give me anything to respond to.  I feel very confident ending this particular chapter because no one (me) has time to waste.  But mark my words, WHEN I write my book, you best believe it will be called “Just Buy Me The Damn Apple Juice.”

This Charming Man

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I had this date recently with a real cool cat. You must understand this is very rare for me and I was quite happy about it.  I received a text the Sunday after St. Patrick’s Day asking if he might see me because the weather was amazing and it would be nice to take a cute girl (THAT’S ME!) for ice cream.  I was knee deep in laundry and house-cleaning but I’m not dumb nor dead…I was accepting this invitation!  He let me know where to meet him and off I went to prettify my face and subway to a fun evening out.  He decided gelato would be a better idea and gave me his recommendations. Once we decided on our desired treat, he ushered me to make my order. When the cashier asked me if there was anything else to add to the order, I turned to him and he kind of…leaned back and looked as though he was super-duper interested in something happening on the other side of the counter. *single blink* I realized at that moment I wasn’t being treated to a delicious cold dessert by a charming man.

Now let me clear this up before anyone gets upset - I’m not sayin I’m a gold digger…I’m just saying pay for my damn ice cream…

Read the rest of this post on Gail Vaz-Oxlade’s Other Voices here.

The beautiful Toronto skyline