Caroline - my blind date with a petty god

"Hey...um...hi! You must be Caroline."

I squinted in the dim light of the upscale restaurant. The Sovereign Steakhouse was near enough to campus that I had heard of it, but I had never been there before. It had the reputation of being an anniversary spot--like for major anniversaries--or the place business professors might take their prized students. Considering I was already blanching at the required valet parking, it was a bit outside my budget as a Pre-Med student, and for that matter a ballsy pick for a first date.

"That's me."

I raised my hand in a mock wave, my skin looking even paler in The Sovereign's low light. Between the white tablecloths and smoky exposed wood, I felt a little out of place in my $15 heels and borrowed cocktail dress. I surveyed the waiting area, following the wainscoting on the dark walls, before making eye contact with the source of the voice: my date for the evening, Nick.

Nick and I had matched on Hook, Line, & Sinkr, the dating app for people whose grandparents took them fishing, and hadn't really gotten to know each other. I knew he was a year older than me and maybe an inch taller. His bio mentioned that he was looking for a long term relationship and had been in one previously. We had messaged a little bit, but he had suggested the date pretty early on and intrigued by his boldness, I had agreed. Shamelessly, I had asked him to clarify though who would be getting the check, but Nick had said he would be paying for both us. Not one to turn down a free meal, especially at so ritzy of an establishment, I had told my roommate Hailey and she was quick to start making sugar daddy jokes.

"Oooh, think he's interested in a side piece," she had hooted as she tried to snatch my cellphone for a peek. I rolled across the couch laughing as she worked to pry my fingers off the phone. "Just...don't do anything...Auntie Hailey wouldn't do," she cried, jumping on top of me to pin me with her legs. Chortling, she had unlatched my thumb, but couldn't get past my password until I relented. Unlocking the screen, I brandished the picture of him in a nice looking suit accepting some award before showing her the messages he had sent so far. Upon seeing the proof, Hailey concurred but made me promise, "You don't put out until the third date or you get a purse worth over $500 dollars."

With the date set, we had done our roommate due diligence and setup my emergency contact. If Nick was a creep, I could message Hailey and she would fake some sort of disaster that me to leave. She even lent me a dress from her closet since none of mine seemed Sovereign Steakhouse material-- a wine red number that hugged my slender curves nicely. It was held up by thin straps that formed a small "x" behind me, but otherwise left my back exposed. My dark hair was pulled up in a messy top bun to show off a pair of tassel earrings, hanging on bronze rings. And to top it all off, my heels were open-toed and we had painted my nails to match the earrings. When you meet your sugar daddy you want to look classy, I had joked to myself, and looking in the mirror after I finished my makeup, I certainly felt chic.

Trouble was, seeing Nick, he hadn't put in any effort at all. Oh sure, he had slacks and a button down shirt, it wasn't as though they were going to throw us out, but he failed on a lot of little things you notice when first meeting someone. Or at least a girl notices when they first meet someone.

• His shirt was wrinkled.
• His pants were too short.
• He wore white socks with his black dress shoes.
• His hair looked uncombed.
• His under arms looked sweaty.
• His belt was frayed from too much use.
• He stood with his hands in his pockets, no confidence.
• And though clean shaven, he had a soul patch that he either forgot to shave or god forbid, he was growing out on purpose.

Trying to remain positive, I looked for something about him to compliment. Reaching, I told him, "nice tie," with a smile. It wasn't a clip-on, I guess.

As if following my train of thought, Nick nervously adjusted his hair before answering with a cough, "sorry about my appearance, it's been a--uh--crazy day." He smiled winsomely and reached for his right pocket before seeming to think better of it and said, "thanks for noticing the tie, at least. You look amazing."

I nodded curtly, causing my earrings to bob back and forth and did my best to maintain the pleasantries. "Um, nice to finally meet you," I offered cheerily.

He paused and looked at me askance. "Oh--uh--have you been waiting long?" He inquired moving in closer. On impulse, I backed away slowly.

"Um no, I guess not..." I lamented. Not sure what he meant, I played it off cooly, "...just something people say I guess?"

Nick thought this over and shook his head. "Right, yeah when meeting...for dates." He made three pensive clicking sounds from behind his teeth, and swallowed, before looking out to the parking lot as if expecting someone else. Not sure what he was doing, I gestured to the red-haired hostess at the front. "Shall we then?"

"Hmm," Nick thought for a moment then nodded gruffly, "Of course." I smiled demurely as Nick ambled forward. What a weirdo, I thought to myself.

Our hostess eyed Nick imperiously, no doubt observing the same defects I had previously catalogued. She had shocking red hair that fell down to her shoulders and was dressed in a white blouse and black vest. Her ensemble was crisp and immaculate, curated to not show a hint of imperfection, and with the light just above her I could make out the name "Madeline" on her gold name plate. Drolly resting a hand with an engagement ring on the ornate podium, she finished her assessment of my date and said, "It's reservations only." The subtext was crystal clear: we don't serve your kind here.

Nick looked to me and then stuttered trying to meet the woman's eyes. "Oo--uh--we--uh--we--uh have a reservation," he managed to finish, reaching for his right pocket to fiddle at keys or something.

"Name?" Madeline answered coolly, unperturbed and drawing out the "n" the way one might say "hmm" to a question they hadn't quite heard.

"Um Scarborough. Nick Scarborough," the boy offered, reaching with his free hand to help her search the list. Madeline simply brushed him aside.

"Oh I see, yes," the redhead pursed her lips. I smiled guiltily not quite at Nick's side as he stared at the hostess, expectantly. Finally Madeline spoke.

"It'll be a 10 minute wait," the fastidious redhead responded making a note on her booklet. "You can use the patio." Madeline produced a black and red-light up buzzer that she handed to Nick before gesturing to the windowed doors. I had a sinking suspicion that it was a slow night and we'd gotten lucky. That or we were inevitably going to be sent to some back table--the noisiest one Madeline could find by the kitchen. Possibly both. Nick for his part sneered, his hand fussing with his pocket again, but I reached out to comfort him before he did something rash.

"It's fine, Nick. We're early. We can talk outside a little while," I chided, trying to keep the evening upbeat. Nick seemed to falter at my touch and hung his head before mumbling, "I was thinking I could fix Madeline's attitude."

Figuring he was trying to look tough on the date, I made a counter offer, "Well, you know, it'll give us time to get to know one another. Who cares what she thinks, right?"

Nick's soul patch crinkled as he frowned. "You'd care if you knew," he admonished cryptically, but he relented and followed me past an outdoor space heater.

The patio was sparsely populated, but we weren't alone. A group of guys with a real stock-brokery vibe were laughing in one corner, and a blonde in an evening dress and her besuited date were talking animatedly on the opposite side. The restaurant had a couple wicker benches setup with couch cushions in the center. They were chilly and had collected a few leaves from the surrounding foliage, but I settled onto one and watched Nick do the same. He wasn't exactly my type. The boy was solidly built, not strictly fat, but with a silhouette you might get from a hockey jersey. Just sort of bulky, from his head to his thighs, with even his hands seeming to be larger than average. He put the buzzer on the table in front of us and rested his elbows on his knees, meaty fingers clasped as he looked out to the parking lot once again.

"So, um, which of your grandparents took you fishing?" I asked, trying to make conversation.

"Oh, my uncle did. Sorry, I lied in my profile," Nick joked lamely.

"Mmm, scandalous," I smiled to save face, but Nick seemed to notice my distaste.

"Sorry, not sure why I'm so nervous," he shrugged and sat forward on his couch. "Er well, I know why I'm nervous--but I really shouldn't be, most everything seems to be going alright."

"Well thanks for taking me to such a nice restaurant," I supplied before he rambled on too much. Then seeing if he'd take the bait, I added, "I know this place is a bit expensive, you must have a really nice job."

"Eh, I'm between gigs right now." Oof, that almost sounds like he's unemployed. And yet he took me to Sovereign's. Maybe he's a trust fund kid?

I pivoted off his recurring parking lot interest. "Which car is yours? Can you see it from here?" I wanted to see if he drove something nice.

"Oh, no, I don't have one. I...um...took the bus here." Mm, strike two. Not looking good, Nicholas.

"Well I hope tonight's not going to break the bank. I can get a small steak if you prefer." I went a bit more direct this time, but I was losing hope fast.

"What? No, no, no, I got tonight covered." He laughed and waved his left hand. "Ah what the hell, it's actually kind of a funny story. You see, I supplement my income with--ah--I guess you'd call them dolls."

"Dolls?" I choked, failing to hide my dismay this time.

"Yeah, it's a bit of a hobby. Nothing weird though," Nick tried to backtrack but only seemed to double down, "I'm just really interested in how different cultures approach dolls, sometimes for spiritual purposes but also for recreation. Like there's all this nuance in how different people dress their dolls, display their dolls, use their dolls--I'm saying the word 'doll' too much."

Nick started equivocating, describing his dolls as antiques or figurines or idols, but I started to fish my phone out of my purse all the same. Seriously was I being catfished? No longer listening to Nick, I pulled up Hook, Line, and Sinkr and flipped through his pictures. It definitely was the same Nick, soul patch and all, but after the suit picture there was one of him holding up a Victorian baby doll in a badly lit bedroom. I could even see a few dusty museum pieces in cases behind him. And in the third picture--sigh--some more modern dolls posed with him by a desk as he went through a stack of tiny clothes. Oh God, what had possessed me to go on a date with a doll collector? Had I seriously ignored these red flags at the promise of a $69 steak?

"So I go to the museum as a consultant...," he continued, not noticing my panic, "...and the idol they described, it's the genuine article. Paleolithic European, probably neanderthal, which you know should've psyched me out."

"Oooh...for sure," I half-listened as I opened up my group chat with Hailey. Do I just call this date now?

"Right?" he responded taking my affirmation as genuine, "but I'm still riled up. So while I'm looking it over, I thought about the dating app and I wished..."

"Wow," I nodded at the prattling nerd, long having lost the thread. This wasn't good. Maybe ditching him would be a kindness. I'd save him money on what was clearly an over the top romantic gesture. He might even thank me.

"...and I'm like BOOM! WHOA, did I just create that out of thin air?! That's impossible..."

"Hey Hailey," I typed in the messaging app, "CODE RED, sorry could you get me out of this?" I mean it was a shame I'd be out the valet money, but it was a small price to pay for leaving this date early. I checked the time, we hadn't even made it five minutes. Jesus, Nick, why did you lead me on?

"...but see, that's when I remembered the cave painting--whoever possesses a piece of the god will have the power of the god to do with as he sees fit," Nick was gaining speed, no longer stuttering as his doll nonsense reached a fever pitch. I checked my route home, thinking I could grab some food to split with Hailey once I got back. Oh shoot, I realized I forgot to hit send.

"So long story short," Nick reached into his pocket just before I could message the CODE RED, "I swiped the sucker and took it home with me."

I looked up. Clutched in his hand was an egg-shaped, sallow rock that was pocked with little indents. A ridge went around its rough surface at the top, giving the appearance of a shallow hairline, and two large grooves were set beneath it, a la a pair of sunken eyes. The place a nose might be was now smooth as though one had been there before but had since fallen off. And there was no indication of a mouth, just a chin without lips or means of speech. However by far the artifact's most striking features were its little holes. From forehead to chin, the palm-sized face was dotted like a teenager’s with acne, covered in little punctures that shown blood red in the outdoor light.

"What is that?" I looked aghast.

"It's the god head. It's what I've been talking about--weren't you LISTENING?" Nick suddenly snapped at me, and I recoiled, a tad apprehensive. Pro-tip girls: when someone's waving a Swiss cheese rock idol at you, they're no longer sugar daddy material. They're just full-on crazy.

"I'm not...(sigh) crazy," Nick seemed to deflate entirely unprompted.

"I didn't....say you were," I smiled, but checked the area to make sure the other people were still around if I needed backup.

"I thought it made you actually attracted to me," Nick whined plaintively, "What are you just here because you thought I was rich?"

It had been the working theory up until a few moments ago. I wanted to smirk, but I remembered my Marilyn Monroe and tried to be diplomatic. "Nooooo, Nick," I soothed and did my best to defuse the disgruntled man-grenade in front of me. "A guy being rich is like a girl being pretty? You wouldn't date a girl just because she's pretty, but it doesn't hurt, right?"

"Don't lie to me," he lay back on the couch throwing out his arms. "I told you, when I hold it I can read people's thoughts."

"Hold the uhh...what? The god head?" I blinked at Nick with growing pity, but moved to unlock my phone all the same.

"Yes! The god head," he pointed the trypophobia-inducing rock at me again and added, "I wish you wouldn't send that message."

Oof busted. I clicked my tongue and locked the phone, putting it away for the time being. I guess I would have to tell him I wasn't interested face-to-face. It might be hard, but hopefully I can let him down easy. I know some guys get pretty defensive when shot down by a pretty girl.

"Look, Nick--"

"Oh please. Don't act all high and mighty now," he interrupted, averting my gaze, "besides you're not even that pretty. I could have any girl I want, I'm a god!"

Boy, I knew how to pick 'em. Say what you will about his misplaced confidence or his mental state, he was perceptive. Nick figured out where this conversation was going before I could say three words. Oh who was I kidding? A passing sailor on a boat 50 miles away could spot this relationship-wreck. Granted him leaping at the chance to insult my looks before I broke things off was a new wrinkle. Gave off some real incel vibes there, though I guess that wasn't surprising. Typical men, this is why texting Hailey to be my dying aunt is better for all involved. If only I could send that text.

"Nick, you're not a god. You seem like a nice guy," I lied, "but you're not a god."

"Jeez, you really weren't paying attention," the doll-collecting oddball shook his head, "If I'm not a god, why'd you agree to go out with me ON THE DAY we started messaging?"

I started a retort, but paused, genuinely confused. Not about the god thing, obviously, but it was really weird that I had agreed to all this sight unseen. Had we really only just matched today? I frowned, that couldn't be right. But I thought about it a little more, and yeah I guess he had a point. I usually was quite selective, making sure I knew someone thoroughly before we even had coffee. Heck, Hailey even made fun of me for how slowly I decided on matches, but I wasn't like a guy just swiping on every pretty face I saw, I wanted a genuine connection. Yet here I was with Nick after the promise of a nice steak.

"I suppose...I was...curious about Sovereign's mashed potatoes?" I reasoned aloud, still perplexed.

"Bull shit," Nick rolled his eyes, the nervous stuttering boy no longer present.