Same Week, Different Dude
I go out with Hakeem the same week I go out with Oleg. Hakeem was two hours late for our first date, which you’d think meant that there was no date. Looking back, I’m still shocked I didn’t immediately take off my makeup when the big hand struck the twelve for the second time. I’ve never been one to take time-wasting lightly.
Sitting in a restaurant booth, two hours after I had expected him, Hakeem explained what had happened (and at that point I had to take at least a little pity on the guy). Hakeem didn’t actually live here; he was staying with teammates in Surrey during training and hadn’t exactly gotten the hang of the transit system. The man WALKED to the skytrain which as it turned out was a bit of a hike (even for a 6’4 svelte athlete) taking thirty minutes instead of the five he had been expecting. Then it was a skytrain and then another skytrain and finally a seabus. Then, when he arrived in North Van, his phone died and so he’d been wandering around trying to find somewhere to buy a charger (and a place to let him charge his phone) so he could get the address and directions to the apartment not to mention let me know that he’d arrived. All was immediately forgiven (ish, I mean what kind of idiot doesn’t map out his route and charge his phone in advance for a big date? A twenty-five-year-old, that’s who). We drew a line under it and reset the night. After all, who was I to hold anything other than my body against a young hot professional athlete.
I closed my menu and looked at Hakeem. “What are you going to get to eat?”
“I actually ate before I came, so I’ll just get something to drink.” And then he took a sip of water from one of those Gatorade bottles athletes are always guzzling from on the field. Like, he’d brought it with him (which seemed both bonkers and like good for him, hydration is important). But now we were sitting at a restaurant, and he was chugging water from a massive (and leaking) Gatorade bottle like we were in the second half at the Superbowl.
“Oh,” I said dejected. I hate when men act weird on dates like what am I just going to sit here eating alone? I didn’t eat before our date because I knew we were going out for food. Who eats before a dinner date? I was fucking starving since I was still fully in my “if I don’t eat before a date, I’ll look thinner” fatphobic-mindset. Newsflash: I’m fat. I’m fat at breakfast and I’m fat at lunch and I’m fat at dinner, even if I didn’t eat dinner.
Hakeem looked at me expectantly, “What are you going to get?”
“Well, I’m definitely getting something,” I said regaining my confidence. I wasn’t about to starve because this man was two hours late had already had dinner. “I’m either going to get this thing or that thing,” I said pointing at the menu.
“Get both,” he said. And just like that he was back in my good graces. I swear my mouth fell open which really shouldn’t be the reaction a woman has to a man suggesting she get two different appetizers but there we were. It’s not like I was ordering a steak and lobster but still, this must be what it feels like to be a princess or a celebrity or a thin woman without food issues. I told him I couldn’t possibly, and he genuinely seemed shocked like he really just wanted me to be full and happy and wasn’t that just the sweetest fucking thing you’ve ever heard. When the waitress came, he ordered a water because his Gatorade bottle was beyond leaking, and I ordered both appetizers and a diet coke.
He told me that he’d gotten a business degree while playing college ball and was now just trying to make it as far as he could in the CFL. I told him about my writing, my hopes for my first book.
“Do you think you’ll be famous for your writing or your personality,” he asked turning very serious.