The Simple Words Are, "Check, Please"

Story Submitted by Jesse:

Mary stuck out to me for a lot of reasons: her profile was well-written, she sounded like she had an actual, specific personality, and she was a very pretty blonde.  Also, her hair was short, and I've always liked short-haired women.

I wrote her a brief introductory message, and she wrote back.  She said everything right, and I asked her out for dinner and drinks.

We hadn't been talking for a couple of minutes before she said, "Cards on the table: I have trust issues."

"Okay," I replied.

"My last two boyfriends kind of screwed me.  One of them ruined my credit score, and both of them took out restraining orders against me."

"Why would they do that?" I asked.

"Because they called the cops first, in both situations.  Why would they believe a frightened, crying girl when the big, strong man called them first?"

During this time, she was sliding her leg up mine.  In normal circumstances, such a thing would be a turn-on, but these were not normal circumstances.  I shifted away slightly, to make it seem as if I wasn't shifting away from her on purpose, which I was.

She took my hand.  I pulled away after a few moments, explaining that it was a bit soon for that.

"You're a guy, right?" she asked.

I said, "Yes."

She said, "Then there shouldn't be a problem with this," then took my hand again.

Just stick it out, I thought, it's just one date, and then you're free.

"You're not a commitment-phobe, are you?  There's a special place in hell reserved for commitment-phobes."

"I just like taking things as they come."

"I like you a lot."

"Thanks."

After we placed our orders, we graduated from holding one hand to holding both.  Her foot was sliding up my leg again.

"So," she asked, "Had a lot of girlfriends?"

I told her that I'd had a few, but nothing serious in some time.  She asked me their names, and I told her that I wasn't really up for telling her their names as of yet.

"What if we have sex?  Then will you tell me?" she asked.

"Let's talk about your job, instead."

"You're not really a guy, am I right?" she asked.

She slid her foot up, towards my junk.  I asked her what she was doing, and she said, "Are you a guy or aren't you?  You don't seem all that interested in me, and that's weird."

I said, "I barely know you.  Plus, that whole thing with the restraining orders kind of has me a little–"

"I didn't do anything!  It was all them!  A hundred percent!"

"I–"

"First you say you don't want to fuck me and then you move away and then when I say restraining order you automatically assume that it's all my fault and you won't even ask me to explain it and..."

"Fine.  Explain it."

She blew her nose in her cloth napkin and put it on the table.  She then turned away from me and folded her arms.  "No.  That's it.  I'm done.  You've had your chance."

Dinner was served, she didn't touch hers, I ended up paying for it, but not before having it boxed up for myself to take home and enjoy.

When the meal was over, I asked her if she was ready to go.  She said, "You go ahead.  I'm waiting for a real man."

So I left.  As far as I know, she's still waiting there.