The smell of stale coffee filled the air. Although there was a few eager faces around, most of the single people in the room looked exactly like me. . . bored. The flower in the middle of the table even looked sad. I stroked it’s weak leaf, which felt quite rough on my fingers. The bell went for another round and I gave a polite reply to the poor guy who had to endure my boredom for the past one hundred and forty seven seconds.
“Is this seat taken?” A husky voice asked me. I stopped stroking the sad leaf and looked up at my next victim.
I faked a smile.
“No, go ahead.” I indicated.
He was taller than me, which was unusual. Having two parents as part of the marines sometimes didn’t always work in my genes favour. On the plus side, I never got bullied in school. I looked up again when I realised we hadn’t said anything to each other.
“No, don’t mind me. Go ahead.” He told me while lightly touching his attempt of a beard.
I shot him a confused look and he laughed.
“You’re a writer. I can tell.” He told me. It was now my turn to laugh.
“I’d hate to date a writer. They never pay attention to anything but the failure of a novel they’re trying to perfect.”
“Nah, that’s only men.” He informed me, and took a sip of his stale smelling coffee.
“Is it? I’ve never dated a woman writer.” I informed him with a smirk.
“Yes it is. A man will sit here and then suddenly get an idea and rush off back home to his computer or notepad. A woman, however, will remember every detail. I bet you’ve already memorised your surrounding senses to maybe use for a later piece of writing.” He told me and I looked up at him, guilty.
“But if somehow I end up marrying this woman, she’ll be able to recall this day to our grandchildren like it was yesterday.”
I let him speak, intrigued as to what he had to say.
“A man will recite the same line,” He cleared his throat. “‘She walked through those two doors and I knew she was the one for me’.” He acted out.
The bell for the next round went, but we ignored it.
“It’s a cop out, pathetic..really.” He scoffed.
“But every woman believes it.” I offered.
“Because the most part is true. We all like to believe in love at first sight. That you don’t remember anything else happening because they were the one. But it’s a lie.”
“Women want to believe thats how it happens.” I took a sip of the coffee. I instantly regretted it after the taste filled my mouth.
“It could happen like that. But usually when it does, he remembers the scene like it was a movie playing before him”. He sat back in his chair a bit more. It was in that moment I realised I didn’t know his name, nor did he mine.
“The stale coffee, the sad foliage, the bored faces. I bet you made a mental note of all of this before I sat down.” He smirked.
“The handsome stranger smirked before me like he knew all the secrets of the universe.” I leaned in towards him.
My granddaughters eyes beamed like it did when the princess finally realises she loves the prince.
“Then what nana?” She urged me.
I looked over at the handsome stranger sixty years later. He stopped reading his newspaper and drooped his glasses towards us.
He smirked at me. “It turns out…. he did.”