How'd You Make it Home So Fast?

Submitted by Erik:

I commute from the suburbs into the city each weekday, and, as I've been doing it for some time, I've fallen into a bit of a groove.  I would sit on the same seat on the train every morning for probably close to a year.  There were even other "regulars" who I would greet almost each day.

One of these was Mallory.  She was very pretty and worked in an architect's office.  We'd exchange pleasantries, but never much else.  We were just train acquaintances, after all.

Around Christmastime, I was therefore surprised that she gave me a bottle of wine with a ribbon on it.  It was a touching gesture, and even more unexpected was her suggestion that we share it.  It was a Friday, and I suggested meeting up in the city after we were both done at work.

She picked an expensive place for dinner, but I was, stupidly, smitten with her, and I didn't think much of it at the moment.

She didn't say very much at dinner, despite my best attempts to make conversation.  I figured that she was shy, and was willing to forgive that.

After dinner, she suggested that we go back to her friend's place to share the wine.  The evening was potentially looking up.

We made it back to her friend's apartment.  No one else seemed to be home.  We opened the wine and then she started opening up a little.  For some reason or another, she started talking about her friend.  She told me how smart, fun, attractive, etc. her friend was.  It honestly felt as if she was setting me up.

All I could say to all of the friend's accolades was, "I hope to meet her, someday."

Mallory gave me a look and said, "My friend's Jason.  I think you guys would make a great match.  Want to meet him?  He's in his room."

I'm not gay.  Maybe I unknowingly give off the vibe, but the idea that the evening was just an excuse to liquor me up and set me up with another dude... no.  Not my thing.

I told Mallory that I wasn't into guys, and that I had thought that the evening was a date between myself and her.

"Why would you think that?" she asked, "I have a boyfriend!"

It would have been nice to know this going in, but she wasn't done.  "Just meet Jason!" as if me meeting him would be enough to change my orientation.

She knocked on Jason's door.  No answer.  She knocked again.  Nothing.  She pulled out her phone, called him up.

"I'm going to go, I think," I said, standing up.

"Don't!" she said, "I'll get him here.  He'd love a guy like you.  Just meet him!  Don't worry!"

Oh, I was worried, all right.  We had drank most of a bottle of wine between the two of us, but my sober-emergency-backup-generator kicked in, and I stumbled out.

"Wait!" she yelled, "Wait!  He's on his way!"

But I was long, long gone.