So I dressed up as nice as I could; I wore
a short, purple dress with sequins that sparkled
like the ocean and tall, black heels that made
my ankles hurt. I also tried to wear a fabulous
smile and a sincere look as if I could save the world.
He was late.
When I asked why, he said
“in that dress, you look like an eggplant.
But those heels are nice, on the street you'd
be worth a few hundred dollars more, at the least.”
Then he laughed.
A waiter appeared with our drinks. I drank red wine
while he sipped his whiskey. Really, he slurped his whiskey
and it sounded disgusting. So I said,
“You sound like a hippo. A very handsome
hippo. The pride and desire of all the female hippos.”
He snorted into his drink, proving my point; sort of.
Before we left, he reminded me of his eggplant line.
He stared at my dress thoughtfully and I could tell that
he thought he was hilarious.
Somehow, I managed to keep my fabulous smile and the sincere look
stretched across my face.
Maybe next time I'll wear my blue dress.
But that comes with the risk of being called a blueberry.
And I hope that he doesn't, because I might lose
my fabulous smile and sincere look.
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