The Surgeon

I am meeting the Plastic Surgeon right after my work meeting at the Cheesecake Factory. Even though it’s early May, I’m wearing my ski parka, hat and gloves. He calls just as I’m finishing up with the meeting and we meet outside. He looks a bit different than in his picture, but not so much that I could say I was at all deceived.

I accidentally call him by the wrong name and he doesn’t laugh or even crack a smile. We go to a frozen yogurt joint down the street because I really like it there and I was able to keep myself from going crazy on cheesecake only by telling myself I was holding out for the yogurt. He says he doesn’t like sweet things so declines to order anything himself.

There are about 15 teens ambling about inside the shop. I feel like I’m back at work suddenly. I eat very quickly and zip up my jacket for a cold and rainy walk around downtown.

Conversation is fine. He’s good at asking questions and is very intelligent. I like his kind blue eyes. Unfortunately, I don’t feel any sparks and there is virtually no laughter between us. This seems like a tell-tale red flag to me.

After about 30 minutes, we agree to say goodbye. I again call him by the wrong name. The name I’ve been calling him is another guy I’ve been talking to. Serves me right. Again, I get no laughs from this. We briefly hug goodbye and go our separate ways.