FAIL! (Dana)

Book 1, Story 1 – An introduction to Dana

ALL RIGHT SPEED DATEEEEEEERS!!!! ARE YOU READY!!!?????

Forty hopefuls, including a petite woman sitting in the corner with hair the vivid red of a warning sign. Stick thin legs poked out from under her little black dress, one beating a staccato rhythm with her black stiletto heel. Hunched over, with her nose far too close to the table, her face was partially obscured by the thick, teased strands of her unruly mane. Gripping a pen with more force than seemed necessary, she aggressively darkened the number ten on her table marker, hoping it would help suitors remember her.

Satisfied it could now be seen halfway across the room, she put it back in place, gulped down the last of what she could only describe as “wine” and zeroed in on the group of men now filtering in. One beauty after another, forced to give her two minutes of their time. It said so in the event’s description. Well, maybe not so strongly worded.

Reasonably certain they couldn’t just run away, Dana’s optimism was growing. She hadn’t come here with much. In all honesty, she’d gotten to the point where she would have taken a chainsaw enthusiast with six personalities, all cannibals, if she thought it could lead to something.

As the parade of testosterone fuelled hopefuls fanned out to head to their assigned tables, Dana double checked her phone for the twenty-third time to make absolutely sure the app she’d had to download was ready to go. After each micro-date she was meant to tap ‘yay’ or ‘nay ’. Simple enough. When it was all over, they’d discover who they matched with and mingle next door where the men had been hiding just now. All annoyingly out of sight, where she couldn’t picture what they looked like shirtless.

The booming voice of an organizer through a far too loud microphone signalled the imminent start. An exuberant cheer rose up from all sides as the first bell rang.

A remarkably attractive man came over and took his seat. Too attractive. Chiselled features, piercing green eyes and thick golden locks straight out of a shampoo commercial. What was he doing here? He looked like he could get any girl he wanted.

When he opened his mouth to speak, she was astonished. His voice was so smooth and soothing. Soooo incredibly sexy.

“Hey” he asked with a wink, flashing his perfectly even pearly whites. “What’s your name?”

She grabbed the table’s edge and belted out her response. “HI!!!! I’MDANAI’MSO

GLADTOMEETYOUIVENEVERBEENTOONEOFTHESEBEFOREHAVEYOU?THEY’REABITINTIMIDATINGOHMYGODIMEANIAMSHAKINGRIGHTNOWITISSOHARDTOKNOWWHATTOSAY!”

The poor man’s eyes kept widening as she carried on.

“BAAAH!!! IMEANREALLYRIGHT?AHAHAHAHAHA!!”

“I-“

“IMEANABSOLUTELYCRAZYNUTSCOMPLETELYBONKERSIMUSTBETOBEDOINGTHISOHYEAHIMSUREYOUFEELTHESAMEWAY!!!”

She kept gushing out words like a broken water main, drowning him in her white-water rapids of run-on sentences until, with only a few seconds left, he finally had enough.

“DO YOU EVER SHUT UP!?” he bellowed, followed promptly by the bell. 

Giving her a look of disgust, he gladly moved to the next table. She watched him go, surprised by his outburst. What a temper! No wonder he was single. Upon reflection, however, she might have dominated the conversation – just a little. Perhaps she should speak less next time.

The next candidate seemed wary. Maybe he’d overheard her on the first date. She smiled encouragingly. Well, she thought she did anyway. He seemed unsettled by her effort to display every one of her teeth. 

“Hi, uh, I’m Daniel. What’s your name?”

“Dana,” she replied, pleased she could do so using only one word.

“What do you do?”

She prepared for this. Morgue attendant probably wouldn’t go down very well, so she’d thought up an alternative.

“Clerk.” Close enough.

“You like your job?”

She nodded politely.

He seemed a bit perplexed. She wasn’t giving him much to work with. There was no indication she planned to ask any questions either. She just sat there stiffly, hands clasped between her thighs, with a weirdly fake looking smile, like some robotic customer service agent.

“I volunteer at the children’s hospital,” he offered, hopefully. No response.

Her expression never changed as she nodded, thinking Wow! What a catch! Every ovary in this room is going to be pumping out eggs in reflex response. Maybe she should just hit ‘Yay’ now and hope she wound up at the top of the list.

His confusion grew deeper. He should have gotten a better reaction. It was his best pickup line. This woman was baffling. A minute ago, she was babbling so wildly, her voice was disrupting the first of his ‘dates’. What had she found so unappealing about him that it shut her right up?

They stared at each other for a while from across the table, neither knowing what to say. One puzzled by the lack of response, the other thinking it was going rather well. The bell brought their stalemate to an end. He stood up in silence, grateful to be leaving. Pleased she hadn’t scared him off like the last, she cheerfully tapped the ‘Yay’ button with an energetic bounce, delighting in the PING! it produced.

Number three was a tailor. He made it clear in his scripted introduction. He was also named Sanjay, was 26 years old, and came from a region in India she didn’t think she would be able to repeat. It must have been at least twenty letters long. It did catch her interest though which snapped her out of her silence.

“I’m sorry?” she asked.

He laughed, having expected that answer. “Thiruvananthapuram!”

“Thiru…”

“Vananthapuram.”

It was going to take the whole two minutes to learn how to pronounce it.

“Can I just say ‘India’ instead?” she asked with hesitation. She didn’t want to offend him.

“It’s all right!” he laughed. “I use it as a conversation starter!”

A delighted, wide-open smile crept across Dana’s face, bringing radiant colour and life to her cheeks. She was definitely liking this one. He seemed so effortlessly happy, with dark dancing eyes and the gentle shake of his shoulders.

He placed his elbows on the table and leaned in a bit, mesmerizing her with his confident charm. The first three buttons of his yellow shirt were undone, revealing a tangle of chest hair beneath. It looked so soft and luxurious. She had to bite back an urge to reach out and check.

“I like your chest hair,” she beamed.

“Thank you?” He was surprised by the comment, but not yet deterred.

“It looks really soft. Do you have to shampoo and condition it?”

“No… Just, soap.”

“Are you hairy everywhere else? Like your back? Oh, or your belly? Or bum?”

He shifted in his seat, his smile fading. “I uh, yeah, I’m pretty hairy.”

Dana brought hand to her mouth, biting down lightly on a fingernail. “Can I run my fingers through it?”

He was now feeling some discomfort. He’d expected to meet a few oddballs, but this one was in a whole new category. Best to shift the focus away from him before she reached over the table to help herself. 

“You know,” he began, carefully sitting back up to reduce the appearance of his man-cleavage. “Your hair is pretty interesting.”

She fluffed up the lightweight strands with the fingers of both hands, grinning. 

“It kinda does what it wants. Sticks out all over the place like some crazy lady!” she exclaimed, finishing off her statement with a high-pitched cackle.

Her last comment seemed pretty apt.

“I don’t have hair everywhere else though. My arm hair is really fine, see?” she said, excitedly, displaying her forearm for him to inspect. “They’re there, but they’re practically invisible.”

She continued by showing him her legs as well, popping one of them up on the table. She seemed pretty proud of the fact that she never had to shave them. He couldn’t decide whether he wanted to run or keep listening. This was one of the strangest conversations he wasn’t expecting to find himself in.

“You know, there’s hair elsewhere, buuut, that wouldn’t be nice to talk about to a stranger. Well, not on the first date, you know what I mean?” she replied with an exaggerated wink.

Thankfully, the bell rang.

She enthusiastically hit ‘Yay’ on her phone. She’d felt really comfortable around him.

A weaselly character in a white shirt that used far too much hair gel happened to sit down next. She disliked him immediately, which was saying a lot, given that her standards were exceptionally low.

“FUCK OFF!!!” she roared with such force, he sprung back to his feet, backing off instantly.

When date number five approached, Dana groaned.

You have GOT to be kidding. 

The man was clearly the winner of ‘unbelievably gay of the month’. Why the fuck was he here when someone she might actually have a chance with could be sitting in front of her? 

“You’re gay!” she barked, as soon as he sat down. “You’re gay aren’t you!? AREN’T YOU!?” The poor man was stunned into horrified silence, wondering if everyone had just heard that.

 “GET OUT OF THE CLOSET ALREADY! YOU’RE ALLOWED TO BE GAY NOW; DID YOU KNOW THAT? NO ONE CARES!”

His jaw dropped. “How did-?” he stammered, one of his hands flying to his chest in a dramatic manner. 

She gave him an incredulous look and started on her list: “The pink shirt. Your posture. Your pack of extra-long, ultra slim menthols. You are far too clean, too prissy, too fashionable. When you talked, your hand flew up like it was your very own personal punctuation mark! Not to mention you walked over so smoothly it’s like you were on a travelator! WITH a little wiggle to boot! *AND* you were so busy staring at THAT guy, you forgot to say hi when you sat down!” she practically shouted, indicating the tailor she’d been talking to previously.

Slack-jawed shock was soon followed by a ruffle of his shoulders and unexpected titillation, “And I’m cute too!”

She glared at him so hard he felt like he’d been struck. “Why are you here!?”

His gaze moved over to bachelor number three, sighing with evident longing. “He’s gorgeous, isn’t he? I followed him in, figured it was worth a shot.” Growing confusion faced him when he looked back. “Next thing I know, some woman’s slapping a number on my chest and shoving me towards a table!” 

“Why didn’t you just explain?”

Straight-backed, with haughty dignity, he replied, “I didn’t want to be rude.”

Groaning, Dana sank into her chair. “His name is Sanjay and he’s adorable.” 

“Think he’d be interested?” he asked with cautious hope.

As the bell put an end to their conversation, Dana shrugged her shoulders apathetically. “Sure, why not.” Watching him hurry off, she winced. With her luck the tailor would fall for him.

Another potential suitor made his way to the table, looking at her squinty-eyed with a curled upper lip. He might as well have been trying to make out the writing that companies crammed onto bottles far too small to accommodate them. What had she done to earn herself such a look?

“Did you know there’s a spider crawling up your shouder?”

To his surprise, she smiled with delight, lifting a hand to her tingling skin to let the bloated, long-legged arachnid crawl onto a knuckle.

“Aww! He’s kinda cute!! Look at him!” she cried, reaching over to show him. 

He shrieked like a little girl, knocking over his chair on the way out.

So, this date wasn’t going well either. 

It pretty much went downhill from there. Every hopeful that sat down ended up scared, repulsed, stunned or all three. By the time it was nearly over, she was getting desperate. 

As number 20 took his seat, she lunged at him, fully standing, slamming her palms on the table. “I will have sex you with now! FOR FREE!”

She almost had him until the final bell rang, signalling the end to this nightmare.

As her last chance got up and left, she slammed her forehead down on the table, then repeated the gesture again, and again, hoping to erase the memory of this night from her addled brain. “I am never ever doing this again,” she grumbled to the wooden surface.

“Are you okay?”

Her head shot up to find another man before her. That wasn’t the last bell after all.

“You look like how I feel,” he said, cautiously smiling.

She quickly scanned the room. Every table was similarly occupied by hopeful women with their new potential suitor. 

She looked back at the one before her. He was clean shaven, a bit younger than her with carefully combed brown hair and kind looking eyes. His ample belly strained at his light blue dress shirt, the last few buttons hanging on for dear life. He wore a necktie too, which was odd, because he clearly wasn’t adept at knotting it. Even she could do a better job than this misshapen wonky thing. He looked nervous too, fidgeting slightly with his hands between his knees, sitting up straight like he was there for a job interview.

“I am A-OK,” she replied cheerily, giving him a hearty thumbs up before wincing at her own response. Why the hell did so many stupid things fall out of her mouth when she opened it?

“I take it the night isn’t going that well for you.”

“I really hate this,” she admitted.

“Who’s the worst person you’ve encountered so far?”

“Me,” she answered without missing a beat, attempting a smile but only managing a curled lip. It hadn’t really been a joke.

The nervousness seemed to melt from his shoulders as he laughed, taking it as a humorous self-roast. He had a nice smile. His eyes, when they caught the right light, had a sparkle about them, suggesting his humour was genuine.

“You couldn’t be half as bad as me!”

She opened her eyes wide, her eyebrows leaping above them. “You wanna bet?”

“I, uh, saw your hair from two blocks over,” he proffered, hoping she’d find it funny.

She let out a single soundless laugh, twisting a lock around her fingers. “The colour’s called pillarbox red. I dye it myself.”

“Are you in the arts or something?”

“No, no. Well, I mean, I have my projects but it’s not my job.”

“What do you do?”

Should she reveal it this time? He was the last of the lot, plus she was starting to really like the guy. She would hate to blow it now by creeping him out. Maybe it was best to avoid the question.

“What do you do?” she countered.

“Me? Uh, nothing interesting. I work at one of those megastores in the south end.”

“I see. I don’t think you want to know what I do.”

He lifted his shoulders with an encouraging smile. “What have you got to lose by telling me?”

A hell of a lot it seemed. He was her last chance and the best conversation she’d had all night. “I’m a morgue attendant,” she sighed. Might as well get it out there. If he was interested in her he’d find out sooner or later.

The reaction was as she’d feared; he seemed uneasy.

“That sounds a lot more interesting than what I do!” he exclaimed.

“It does?” she replied, surprised. Had she misread his body language? 

“I’ll admit, I’m not really sure what that means.”

Her mind felt hazy from disbelief. The word ‘morgue’ should have sent him running. Before she could stop herself, a response fell out of her, like some internal program had just whirred to life, reciting a recorded message. An automated response she had said many times before.

“Mostly I just process bodies that come in. I weigh them, put them in compartment trays, enter the information on the system, that sort of thing.”

“Don’t you find it a bit creepy?”

She shrugged, grimacing. “You get used to it pretty quick.”

He shifted a bit, lowering his eyes, possibly uncomfortable. It was hard to say. She suspected a few dates ago she wasn’t reading people very well. Hoping not to lose him, she changed the subject.

“What do you like to-”

DING DING DING DING DING! “OK SPEED DATERS! MAKE YOUR FINAL CHOICES, COME FOR A DRINK AND SNACK WHILE WE FIND YOUR MATCHES!!”

Had it been two minutes already? They’d just gotten started!

He started to rise from his chair, extending a hand. “It was really nice to meet you.”

Her hand met his, seemingly on its own accord, shaking it only once. He smiled again then turned to walk away.

“Wait!” she cried, leaping to her feet. “I don’t know your name!”

He turned back with hesitation. “It’s Robert. You?”

“Dana,” she answered.

He indicated the other room with a hopeful finger. “Maybe I’ll see you in there?”

She flashed as many teeth as she could to express positivity and nodded. She would see him in there as soon as she went to the bathroom to screech out her jitters, get control of her raging excitement and empty her badly distended bladder. 

It took a bit longer than she’d expected. She screamed into her forearm for ages, biting down on it when the first technique didn’t work. She tried hyperventilating, banging her fists on her head, even holding her breath hoping to make herself light-headed enough to calm down. Eventually she did. At the last minute she’d remembered, deep breaths were the way to go. As she expelled the rest of her nervousness, she unfurled her legs and slid down from her perch on the toilet seat. Ready at last, she returned to the fray to get her match.

People had already paired up when she got there. They all looked so happy. She didn’t see him though. Worried he might have given up on her, she sought out one of the organizers. It took a few tries, but she found who she needed. A tallish, slim woman with a dark brown ponytail and a smile that said, ‘New and improved whitening strips!’  

“Hi. Uh, I didn’t get my matches,” Dana squeaked, wringing her hands together in terror. Her calming technique apparently didn’t last very long.

“What number were you?”

“Number ten.”

The woman looked at her tablet, frowning, scrolling down a bit. She looked back up with a consoling expression. “I’m sorry, you didn’t get any matches.”

The world fell out from under her. “W-What? No, that can’t be right.”

“We have another event next week if you’re interested?”

“No. Nonononononono. That’s not right! What about that last guy?”

“I’m sorry ma’am. There’s just nothing on here. I am happy to give you a voucher for next week. It gives you $5 off!”

Dana walked off in a daze, not caring to respond. If this night had been a cake, it would have been flavoured with chilli powder instead of cinnamon, dried out in the oven, fallen over during decorating, half eaten by the dog and then topped with the most delectable looking truffle that nearly saved the day. Until you bit into it and found it was lovingly filled with a dead frog.

She walked out into the warm night and took her phone out of her purse, intending on calling a cab. She could’ve driven, but wasn’t sure if she’d be drinking that night, or with luck, going home with someone.

As she unlocked the phone, she froze, slack jawed and horrified. The dating app was still open. 

Her tortured scream could be heard three blocks away.

She’d forgotten to hit ‘Yay.’  He never knew she was interested.