Is Speed Dating a Crime?

 

I never thought I would try it!  But then again, I never thought I would be thirty-five and single.  Desperate times call for desperate measures, or so I’ve heard.  Career first seemed like a great idea when I was twenty. Its starting to seem less appealing as the years tick by.   

 My best and only friend suggested it.  She has stuck with me through the canceled dates and procrastinations that ended the rest of my friendships.  She has a home and a husband and a family.  She is a fulfilled human being.  On Tuesdays she takes a break from decorating and diapers to chat.  We compare our lives over espresso and low-fat muffins.  I think want what she has, and she thinks she knows how to fix me.

 Of course she couldn’t come with me.  Gary wouldn’t be impressed.  So I found myself standing alone in the doorway of Neighbor’s Tavern on speed-dating night.  What to do, what to do?  Everyone was done up so fancy.  The girls were pushed-up and painted-on, the boys slicked back and clean shaven.  Everyone was so shiny.  I was frozen in the doorway, and probably would have left the way I came if a new group hadn’t flowed into the room, and I, caught up in the flow, followed. 

 Someone rang a bell, and we were ushered to tidy candle-lit tables for two. Feeling like a show dog, I waited for my table mate to appear.  Minutes passed, all the other tables filled up, I sipped my complimentary wine alone.  That would be the ultimate rejection, having no one who even wanted to speed date me.  Nausea burned upwards and I once again I pushed back my chair to leave.

 The doorway was blocked again, this time by a pair of policemen.  They stood, hands on official hips, clearing their throats for attention.  I tried to inch my way around them, but a meaty arm reached out to block my way. 

“Nobody leaves,” the voice attached to the arm announced.  “There’s been a murder…”

The End

5 comments about this story Feed