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If you asked Oscar, how many successful relationships he has had, he would answer most of them, which isn’t a lot, since he is very much introverted, but it’s a good ratio.
If you asked Oscar, how many successful romantic relationships he has had, he would hesitate, because, again, he’s an introvert and that is a pretty private piece of information, but he would say most of them again. His relationships didn’t usually end on a bad note and that’s all you are to know about those.
If you asked him about how his first dates with his past partners usually went, you would hear an answer somewhere along the lines of “awkward” and “nerve-racking”, but overall good.
Now, if you were to ask how his blind dates usually went, he would honestly say bad, since this one was the first one and he already got stood up. The guy he was supposed to meet in this restaurant an hour ago wasn’t answering text or calls, so Oscar had no legitimate way to know if he was just unapologetically late or just turned out to be an arsehole.
He felt people around him starting to stare and whisper among themselves, he felt the pitiful glance the waitress gave him when passing by, he felt his hands getting clammy and heartbeat echoing in his ears.
Oscar lowered his gaze, nervously checking his phone for any apologetic messages from that knobhead of a man, but was only met with radio silence.
When Oscar’s imagination was on his third escape scenario, a voice suddenly came from in front of him:
“Hi, babe! Sorry I’m late, the boss decided to be a dickhead again, but, oh, you know how he can be.”
Oscar looks up to see a complete stranger sitting at the opposite side of the table. To be clear, Oscar hasn’t seen his date for today, but the voices didn’t match, so he was certain the man across from him was not the one he was waiting for. Almost certain, he would later, much later, correct himself in his thoughts.
Likely, seeing the confusion on Oscar’s face, said stranger leans closer whispering:
“Play along”, then winking at Oscar.
And usually, Oscar was not that easy to fluster, but this strangely strange stranger (good job forming sentences, idiot) was quite charming for someone this bold.
That Stranger, he’ll stick to that as his name for now, with his messy brown mop of curls, sparkling mischievous green eyes and dashing smile suitable for the cheeky first impression he made, was now looking at Oscar expectantly.
“Hey, no problem, but you owe me for waiting for an hour,” after a second of hesitation Oscar answers The Stranger with a daring look.
“Well, I’m sure we can figure that out. Let me treat you to today’s dinner. Have you ordered yet?” The Stranger asked, picking up the menu.
“No, not yet.” Oscar said, almost sounding like the situation he was in right now didn’t bother him one bit. “Have never been here before actually, d’you have something you recommend?”
“Well, if you don’t want to fall in my eyes, then I don’t recommend getting fish. Other than that, I heard they serve banging meatballs.”
“What’s so wrong with fish? Is it that bad here?” the earlier confusion was back on Oscar’s face, though now accompanied by a toothy questioning smirk.
“I wouldn’t know, I don’t eat that rubbish,” The Stranger answered as if it was basic knowledge, stunning Oscar one again.
“And why, pray tell, not?”
“Obviously, because it’s an abomination of a dish. The smell is deadly. The texture makes me want to wash my mouth with bleach and scrub my skin ‘till it’s bleeding. All around disgusting, it has not a place in any cuisine, honestly”
That kind of bold, but bland answer punched a stunned laugh out of Oscar. Seeing his reaction The Stranger frowned, making himself look even more solemn.
“I’m serious, fish should be left in the sea, not on a plate, and especially not on mine.”
And that send Oscar into a full chest laughter, making him fold in half and cover his mouth with the menu he was still holding. The Stranger seemed surprisingly pleased with the reaction.
“You-” Oscar couldn’t finish, or rather start, the sentence without bursting out laughing again.
“Wha’?” The Stranger asked, finally easing his expression into a similar to Oscar’s recent confused smile.
“You do know there are pescatarians?”
“Who?” The Stranger’s expression changed to pure confusion. He was very expressive, Oscar has decided.
“Pescatarians?” a nod, “Those are vegetarians, who also eat fish”
“Oh, so basically fish and grass?” this startlingly abrupt response raised another huff from Oscar.
“Pretty much, yeah.”
“Crazy people. Absolutely mental. Who in their right mind would sentence themselves to only eating fish? They must be masochists. Or mentally ill. Or both.” The Stranger was now almost pouting. Still in shock, but pouting.
Oscar couldn’t help but find it somewhat adorable but refused to address that even in his thoughts.
“Are you ready to order, gentlemen?” came suddenly a voice of the previously unnoticed waitress.
“Yes, could I have your meatballs with a side of mashed potatoes and-” The Stranger pause glancing over the menu again, “Do you serve energy drinks here?”
Again with the unexpected responses. Oscar giggled quietly. Oscar doesn’t giggle. He’ll have to reflect on this later in the privacy of his small studio. For now, though, he giggled and ducked his head into the menu again.
“No, sir, we don’t, unfortunately, serve energy drinks here” it could be heard in her voice, how the waitress was battling laughter to stay professional.
“Aw, bummer. Then a coke will do, I suppose.”
“Would Pepsi be ok, sir?” The Stranger looked up at the waitress with something between disbelief and pain in his eyes, and both Oscar and the waitress were now fighting to stay at least remotely composed.
“I don’t know, would it?” and it sounded so pitiful, that Oscar couldn’t help bending in half and almost laying on the table laughing his heart out. Poor waitress cracked a tortured smile and looked up at the ceiling in a last attempt to hold the laughter in.
“And-” she took a deep breath and looked down at Oscar, “And for you, sir?”
Oscar repeated the waitress’ deep breath and straightened in his seat looking at the menu again.
“I will do your classic fish and chips, please,” he looked at The Stranger, who was now looking Oscar straight in the eyes, betrayal on his face. Oscar smiled at his successful mischief and spoke again.
“Actually, no, could I have a schnitzel and a side of baked sweet potatoes, please. As well as a glass of apple sider. Cheers.”
The waitress nodded, wrote down their order and gathered their menus. Once Oscar and The Stranger were left to themselves again, the silence between them was loud, almost deafening.
“So-” “Why-” they spoke at the same time.
“You go first.” Said The Stranger after another brief pause.
“I wanted to ask, why did you come over to me? Not that I’m against it or anything, it’s just that you don’t know me. At least not that I know of. Maybe we’ve met. Have we met before? I would’ve probably remembered. You have a memorable face. Is it offensive to say you have a memorable face? I didn’t mean to-” Oscar interrupted himself, “I’m rambling, sorry”
The Stranger had an amused expression with a relaxed smile on his lips. Why was Oscar looking at his lips? Nevermind that. No, he wasn’t.
“It’s ok,” The Stranger said with a weak laugh, “I came over, because you looked pretty lonely. No.” a pause, “You looked pretty and lonely. Like a lost puppy. Or bunny. A lost bunny.” A pause again, “Do people ever lose bunnies?”
And, damn, Oscar thought The Stranger was cute. A shy smile creeped its way onto Oscar’s face.
“Not that I know of, no”
“Then you’re the first ever lost bunny. The lost bunny-” The Stranger looked expectantly at Oscar, as if asking a question Oscar failed to decipher, “That was a que to exchange names. I guess it was too subtle, sorry. I’m Lando.”
“Oh, right. I’m Oscar.”
“Oscar the lost bunny. Sounds about right.”
“Yeah, I guess it does.”
Then there was silence again, but not an uncomfortable one anymore. It was the one you could relax in, maybe let yourself stare at the person across a bit, making out his petite frame and a bit pointy ears cutely sticking out from under the chaotic head of curls.
“So-” Oscar spoke after a minute or so, “What was it you were about to ask me?”
“Actually, I was going to ask for your name with another stupid joke, but I know it now,” The Stranger – Lando – paused, “Oscar.”
Despite knowing Lando for roughly half an hour, hearing his name was quite pleasant. Oscar will need to reflect on that too, after he gets home. For now, he could enjoy his first successful, truly blind, date.
***
“Oscaaaaaah!” a whine was heard from the bedroom. Oscar calmly, still with a toothbrush in his mouth, emerged from the bathroom.
“Where’s my black jumper?” asked Lando, turning away from the cupboard he was rummaging through, as soon as he saw Oscar in the doorframe.
Oscar tilted his head a bit back and managed through the toothpaste in his mouth, “You’re not wearing a jumper to our anniversary dinner.”
“Well, you didn’t tell me where we’re going, now, did you? How am I supposed to choose my outfit” Lando was now standing turned to Oscar, and, while he was making a frankly valid point, Oscar couldn’t help but roll his eyes and go back to the bathroom to finish brushing his teeth.
Lando, following close behind, continued, “No, but seriously, you were so secretive about this date, I have no idea, what to wear, love.”
Oscar spit out the toothpaste and raised his head, looking at Lando through the mirror in front of him.
“I will let you wear the jumper only if you wear a blouse under it and some smart pants, deal?” not that Oscar had any actual authority over what Lando wears, but that black jumper did look good on Lando.
“Depends. What are you wearing?”
“Beige dress pants and that bordeaux polo you like on me.”
“Yeah, I do” Lando responded with a flirty smile, leaning to peck Oscar’s cheek and wrap his hands around Oscar’s middle.
“You’re a swine, mister,” still, Oscar pressed back into Lando and turned to peck his cheek back, “Get ready now, we’re leaving in fifteen minutes.”
“Fifteen? And you let me scramble around for a jumper?”
To that Oscar only laughed. He would never tell Lando, that they didn’t have to leave for another half an hour, but after three years together, he knew better than to let them both be late. He would also not tell Lando, that the reason he was so “secretive”, as Lando put it, was because they were having dinner in the very restaurant they met in. Although Lando later will find out, the real secrecy was because of a little velvet box in Oscar’s sock drawer, that he thought back to watching Lando run around, rushing to get ready.
Oscar could really get used to this. This could be his forever, and he would be plenty happy.