I am the victim of a series of awry dinner dates. Let us not use names, dates or idiosyncrasies to describe the gentlemen in question. I guess there is none to blame, but the Fates. Let me blame the music that I listened to just before I went out each evening.
So back to the topic, dinner and a date. I started each of these encounters a very excited girl starting out the friendly banter that separates the men from the sheep, so to speak, just to tell whether there was going to be some kind of dinner conversation. I have no doubt that there is something about the wind after the rain that drives me to want to talk to people that I would never otherwise have met.
Take for example the Musician pastor, who goes to church maybe 6 out of 7 times a week. There are no parallels with the men of the cloth back home, apart from the preaching of similar message. I still wonder what drove me to go there, in a date. So we went to this sandwich bar here in the town, as an icebreaker. Convinced by those 20-20 news specials that I did not want to become another unidentified body found washed up on the banks of the River, I told all of my friends where I was going and when to call the police if I did not turn up. We went and had sandwiches at the local café here.
I wanted the conversation to flow, for us to meet, greet, and feel like we had known each other our whole lives. I wanted the fact that he opened the door for me to cover for the faux pas of eyeing a girl seated next to me the whole time that we were having dinner. Maybe I am selfish, but I wanted the fact that he offered to pay to compensate for the jerky conversation that seemed to revolve only around him and gym and church.
Do not get me wrong, I am as firm a believer in the glorious resurrection of Christ, and celebrating Easter, but why did it have to be that I should experience fellowship only at his church. Why did he want me to forget that he had another personality apart from the three things that he resolved to talk about the whole time, whether I was involved in any church where I was from, whether I was working, why I was not willing to accompany him to church. All this ran through my mind as he hungrily eyed my sandwich, which he was foregoing to have a leafy salad, after mumbling through a diet explanation.
I do not think that I have been as acutely aware of time when I am out with someone as much as I was at the 22nd minute of the hour I spent out with the Musician Pastor. I insisted on going back at school as soon as the last bits of the sandwich went down with the iced tea that I was having.
I went back just as the clouds were threatening to drop a world of drops on the thirsty ground outside my dorm room. I wanted to sink and become one with the grass. I guess I was tired, because there was no way to describe the sinking disappointment with the last hour’s antics. I spoke my goodbyes and watched the tiny car disappear round the bend. Watching the sunset rain, I hoped for more smiles than tears, I hoped for Spring again.