By Misti Lake
Date: 14 April 2001
Deaf Date
She opened the front door with a beach towel wrapped around her naked body. Her dark hair was wet and tousled.
"Close your eyes!" she cried out.
Slightly startled, yet somewhat turned on, he wordlessly obliged.
"Come on in. Here, I'll guide you to the sofa. I'm going to put on some clothes and makeup and fix my hair. There's Red Dog in the fridge and my stereo and cds are in the corner. Be right back. I'm Shiloh, by the way."
"Oh, good. I got the right apartment. I'm Steve."
"Good, good. I'm not at all disappointed. You've got hair and everything. Okay, I'll leave now so you can open your eyes. Thanks for your cooperation."
When Steve opened his eyes, he saw white candles burning all over the small den and adjacent dining room. Instead of a table there was a computer and desk and stacks of books and magazines in the dining room. An "Abbey Road" poster hung above the computer.
A soulful country & western song was playing on the stereo in the corner. Steve walked over to the cd tower, thinking he'd put an end to the madness and play something more substantial. To Steve's dismay, the cd tower only contained six cds and they all sucked. The soundtracks to "Beauty and the Beast" and "The Little Mermaid," the greatest hits of George Jones, the Bellamy Brothers and Dolly Parton and "Sounds of the Rainforest."
"This could prove to be a long night. I might need a beer...or two or three," Steve said to himself.
Steve wandered into the candlelit kitchen. He opened the fridge and grabbed a cold Red Dog longneck. Twisted the cap off and took a long swig.
They met at a "Good Times" fan site on the Internet. For two weeks they e-mailed back and forth and talked on the phone. Tonight was their first time to meet in person.
Two Red Dogs later, Shiloh emerged from the bathroom.
"Wow," Steve said.
"Really? My hair's kind of frizzy," Shiloh said.
"You look gorgeous. Come sit down. I brought you a surprise."
"I love surprises!"
Shiloh sat down beside Steve on the sofa. He handed her an egg wrapped in purple tinfoil.
"But it's not Easter. It's not even Valentine's Day," Shiloh said with a laugh.
"It's a white chocolate prize egg. I got it in Germany last December. You told me you love white chocolate."
"Oh! Absolutely. Yum yum yum."
Shiloh unwrapped the egg. It was lilac and the halves easily came apart. Inside was a little pink and white plastic ballerina.
"Oh, wow! This is so pretty. I'll put her in my shadowbox. Thanks so much!"
Shiloh kissed Steve on his cheek. He laughed and gave her a hug.
"Do you like my apartment? I wanted to create a certain mood with the vanilla votives and Conway Twitty cd."
"To be honest, I like your apartment but I'm not too crazy about your taste in music. I thought you told me you liked Sonic Youth and L7 and They Might Be Giants."
"Well, I did. I still do. But that's a sensitive subject. Please don't bring it up again."
Steve's initial enthusiasm began to wane. Shiloh wasn't girlfriend material, after all. But maybe she'd be good for a one-night stand.
On the drive to the restaurant, Steve played his new Eminem cd. He couldn't help but notice that Shiloh wore a murderous expression on her face. Her fists were clenched.
"Is this music bothering you?" Steve asked.
"No. It's lovely," Shiloh snapped.
"I can put something else in. Do you like Limp Bizkit or Dr. Dre or the Insane Clown Posse?"
"Those are my choices? Why don't we just smoke some blunts, drink some 40s, have sex doggy style and call it a night? Don't you have the Beach Boys or the Beatles or Buddy Holly?"
"No. Sorry. How 'bout the radio?"
"It's a vapid wasteland of mediocrity. I'm really not in the mood for 'Oops! I Did It Again' or anything by the Backstreet Boys or Celine Dion. Let's just have some contemplative silence or getting-to-know-you conversation. Cool?"
"Uh...okay."
Steve turned off the stereo and glanced at Shiloh's bare legs. They were long and white and hairless. She was wearing a short red dress.
"I don't sunbathe or fake bake," Shiloh said.
"Good on ya. Both are evil. You look fine."
"But you're tanned."
"Can't get nothin' past you. Yes. I'm tanned. I work at Sea World, remember?"
"Oh, yeah. I forgot. Hey, would you drive through that McDonald's right quick?"
"No! They'd arrest me!"
" Could you go through the drive-thru, then?"
"I've got a corny sense of humor. Uh, we're on our way to Sal's Shrimp-N-Stuff. Can't you wait a few more minutes for some real food?"
"No. I can't. I need to pop my Prozac. I need a soda and French fries."
"Are you a schizophrenic or something?"
"Oh, no. Nothing like that. I don't think I'm Jesus or Eartha Kitt. I'm just mildly depressed, like millions of other Americans."
"Shit, I'd be depressed, too, if I only had seven cds. Just joking. Your wish is my command."
At Sal's they were seated at a booth near the lobster tank. To Steve's alarm, Shiloh began crying.
"What's wrong?" Steve asked.
"That is so tacky. You see the lobsters and get attached and then you see people eating them. I can't handle this."
The hostess seated them at a table across the restaurant. There was a painting of a clipper ship on a moonlit sea hanging above the table.
"This is perfect," Shiloh said, drying her eyes with a napkin.
"I've always loved fisherman lore. Have you seen 'The Perfect Storm'?" Steve asked.
"No. I don't like or respect George Clooney. He does a weird thing with his eyes that makes me uncomfortable."
"Really? Most chicks think he's hotter than hell. Man, the special effects are kick ass. I was seasick when I left the cinema. Then again, maybe it was the jumbo tub of buttered popcorn and sour pickle that did it."
"Those pickles remind me of specimens in formaldehyde."
"Hmmm. Never thought of it quite that way. You're one unique lady, Miss Shiloh. Anybody ever told you that?"
"Don't talk to me like that. It's so obvious you think I'm some kind of freak. It's written all over your face, Don Juan. You just want to get laid."
"What the hell? Look, I'm not like that. My mom's a Sunday school teacher. I have morals. I gave you a prize egg."
"True. I'm kinda testy. When we leave here, we need to make a tampons run."
Steve simply nodded his head. Tonight was not his night.
...During dinner, Shiloh rapidly consumed two schooners of beer and a Mai Tai.
"Whoa, Nelly. I'm going to have to drive you home," Steve teased half-heartedly.
"I can't believe you've already forgotten my name. You poon hound! I'm Shiloh, damn it! Let's go. I need some tampons."
Steve noticed nearby diners staring at them in disgust. He rubbed his eyes and his temples and gulped down the rest of his Tequila Sunrise.
On the short drive to the convenience store, Shiloh sang "Under the Sea" in a melancholy voice. Steve was too disillusioned to laugh.
As soon as Steve pulled into a parking space at the Hop-In, Shiloh demanded twenty dollars.
"For tampons and stuff," she said.
"You're a cheap date," Steve stated in a flat voice. He handed her four fives.
"I am NOT cheap. I'm priceless. That's why you're here."
Shiloh returned with a paper bag. She pulled out a *People* magazine, a box of tampons, a bag of Funyuns and a can of Mr. Pibb.
"See? These are my purchases. I'm honest. Here's your bloody change. No pun intended. Not that you'd know a pun if it bit you on your smug white ass."
"You Looney Tune. You didn't buy any condoms?"
"Condoms? Why would I buy those? One...I have no intention whatsoever of inviting you in for a nightcap. Two...I'm allergic to latex."
"That settles that. This date officially sucks. I'll drive you home since you're drunk."
"And they say chivalry is no more. Ha! Sir fuckin' Gallahad. And in the misty background, a Gershwin tune plays. Look, I'm off sex for awhile. The last guy I dated wore a crucifix, even though he worshipped Pan. It was an ironic fashion statement or some such shit. While we were getting it on he put on a werewolf mask and started growling. I still have nightmares. So...no sex for me, thank you very much."
"I don't think we're compatible."
"I don't think we're from the same planet. I don't even like your ears, Dr. Spock. Physical appearance usually doesn't matter to me. I'm not shallow. I hate George Clooney. I LOVE Jack Nicholson. But I really, really don't like your ears at all."
"Good. So this won't turn into a 'Fatal Attraction' type deal."
"No such luck. I'll never fuck you in an elevator. God, I'm NEVER going back to that website. You've poisoned it for me."
"Well, I'm selling my computer. I'm going to start clubbing again."
"Appropriate. You're excellent cave man material."
In bed alone that night, Shiloh curled up with her Captain Kangaroo blanket. Steve drove to a bar, where he shot some pool, threw some darts, got drunk on Guiness and met a redhead named Jane. She had a pierced tongue and a tattoo of barbed wire around her left ankle. Definite girlfriend material.
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