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Ron found himself readjusting the same tie in the same way, several times over.
He hadn't expected to get this far- After all, who would? This plan was stupid, he'd heard his friends say it more than once- but he still took pride in managing to pull it off.
A week ago today, he had given up on the traditional methods of dating (it was hard to really get to know people, bonding wasn't something that came easy to the small man- a lack of social skill and a bad childhood both staking claim in his inability to form relationships easily) and switched to what he found to be the next best option. One download of an app and listing of a 'shy but playful Schnauzer who loves affection and nearly has a mustache' later, he found himself set to be 'adopted' after a dinner not-date to 'check out his potential owner'.
His hands moved to feel out the weak mustache that years of weekly shots willed his body to grow, and gave a small nod. "Nearly a mustache was right. I really did a good job with that listing."
The bus ride that followed his nervous game of dress up felt just about as anxiety-inducing, if not more. The too strong smell of weed drifting off the person sat to his right, the music that was just audible over the headphones of the person to his left- the lights that were, jesus fuck, WAY too bright- if the bus ride were even a minute longer than the 15 minutes from his house to the restaurant he was meeting this woman at, he might have given up and been a no-show.
But Ron F. Stampler was nothing if not a man who pressed against the odds if they were against him! He stepped off the bus once he saw the sign- 'Le Feu'. He didn't know what it meant, and it was also a bit out of his typical comfort zone in terms of price, but it's where the dog-woman agreed to meet. Dog-woman isn't something you should call a potential love interest, he mentally scolded himself, then panicked as he realized he had, unfortunately, showed up late.
Muttering several mashed up swears to himself, Ron practically charged the place, walking right up to the greeter and immediately putting a hand on her shoulder. He cleared his throat, putting on his best (it was still awful) French accent, and saying, "Bob-jour, ma'am, have you seen a- um- uh, a, a wom..anne?"
She blinked.
Just as he was about to assume his poor attempt at Frenglish had confused the greeter, she spoke to him in a perfectly fine American accent, "Jesus, dude, yeah. Plenty have come through here. Got any specifics? Do you know your date's name? This better not be a weird way of flirting- And can you please stop touching me?" His hand immediately lifted, and he could feel his face heat in embarassment as he dropped his faux French.
"Uh, yeah, i'm sorry- Um, my d- Well, she isn't a date, technically, i'm uh.. I'm helping her.. adopt.. a dddddd.. well, no, i'm the dog technically, but, it's-" He cut himself off, waving his hands for a second as he tried to gather his thoughts. ".. Samantha. Sam, maybe? Her name's Samantha, the.. woman.. i'm.. here to... mmmmeet?"
The greeter was eyeing him curiously. "Well, there is a Samantha here. She got here about ten minutes ago, and-"
Good, she was late, too! Now he looked like less of a disappointment! He brushed past the greeter, who immediately seemed to get frustrated and pull a walkie-talkie from her belt, muttering something about a possibly drug addicted creep on the loose. Ron had no idea what she was talking about, and, quite frankly, he didn't care. He was on the lookout for any woman that looked like a Samantha. He went to about every woman in the restaraunt, putting a hand upon their shoulder and asking if they were 'Sam4theWinz', and most people just responded with confusion or aggression. Soon enough, he had ran through almost every girl in the entire place, feeling close to giving up before his eyes landed on.. her.
Her.
The most beautiful woman Ron swore he had ever seen. Beautiful curly black hair, beautiful golden-brown eyes, beautiful field drab skin- he couldn't stop the word beautiful from bouncing around inside his skull, each reverberation making his hands tremble and his heart skip a beat. There was no way this was Samantha. Samantha must have left when he was 5 minutes later than her, and this last woman took the table she was at. There was no way this was the woman he had come to meet after lying for a week about being a dog.
Ron realized he was staring as the woman seemed to process his presence. With a voice so sweet he could almost believe in a god, she softly spoke, "Are- Are you Ron?"
And he was frozen. Stood there. Had he actually been a dog, his tail would be doing this odd mix of wagging and tucked between his legs, insanely nervous but extraordinarily excited. Samantha was pretty. Samantha was pretty and he had lied to her about having a dog for adoption, but Samantha was here to see him nontheless and she was pretty.
She tilted her head, not blind to his staring. " Are you.. gonna sit?"
Ron immediately blinked himself out of his daze. "Ah, yeah- Jeez, sorry-" He mumbled an apology while taking a seat just across from her. They launched into casual talk, mostly about Samantha's life- she had a son, which he hadn't expected when he thought about this not-a-date, but upon worries that the dog he didn't have might not be safe around kids, she clarified that he was a teenager and could handle a rowdy pup.
Ron thought deeply about if he could handle a rowdy teen. Perhaps, even, a rowdy teen disappointed that the dog their mother arranged to buy is actually a sad man with a shitty mustache and way too many business cards.
She mentioned her house- A small rented space with only two bedrooms, one for her son and one that she started to say was for her and her... something or other, but she cut herself off and changed it to simply her bedroom. Ron assumed that she was married, simply not talking about it to be polite. Makes sense for the ring on her hand. Makes him feel worse about this dog plan.
"You know, uh, the- the dog actually doesn't do too well with.. too many.. people? So if there.. is more than you and your son, um, the dog would l- uh, I mean, I would like to know."
Samantha blinked in response to his words, her eyes barely lowering with an emotion he couldn't quite recognize. She cleared her throat and softly spoke, "I had a husband. That's all. It's just me and Terry Jr. now, though."
"Where'd he go?" Ron asked, oblivious to the emotional bone Samantha was throwing him with her sad, empty eyes.
But his innocent question made the eyes brighten in a way that he, much like lots of her expressions, didn't recognize. And she laughed. Her laugh made him smile, which made her smile, which made him chuckle. Ron was getting somewhere, somehow, and it was making him feel much better about his plan than he did mere minutes ago.
"My husband, um, passed away, actually. His name was.. Terry, hence.. the Jr." She explained, seeming glad that it didn't necessarily have to be heavy for her to discuss it. Ron immediately nodded, "Oh, that's great!"
Shit.
"I-I mean, not great, for you and your son, but, the- the dog will be happy.. to.. spend more time with.. you? Aha. Yeah." He sputtered out, feeling his awkwardness come in. Next thing he knew, the beautiful woman was laughing. Again! It really made him wonder if his father was wrong about saying he isn't funny so many times. Ron, despite not seeing a clear punchline from his own words, gave an awkward chuckle as well.
Once Samantha's laugh cleared to a snicker, Ron noticed her giving him a smirk- that alone was almost enough to make him collapse in on himself, good lord. But it did, also, spark his nerves. "Wh-What are y-"
She cut him off before he could even ask.
"So. The mustache is true, is the affection part?"
Ron blinked, brows slowly furrowing. ".. What?"
It took her a second of on-edge staring before she realized he was genuinely confused. She cleared her throat and explained herself in the way he had already done several times tonight, "It's- I'm sorry, I haven't.. tried flirting in a hot second, um, I was- the listing for the dog said.. said.. something about the mustache and loving affection, s-"
"Oh, um, yeah, the.. dog.. loves affection. I'm- uh, it-it's a cuddler."
"Oh, shit, n- okay, did I get it wrong? I thought maybe you were.. like.. lying.. or something and that.. you were the dog? But I guess that's a dumb idea, uh-"
"Oh!" Ron's eyes got big. "Oh, uh, yeah. No, actually. You got it."
Samantha blinked. "Oh. Oh, cool. Okay, so.. so this is just a.."
Ron finished, "A- A date, yeah. I mean, if you want it to be. Um- I'm- Aren't you disappointed?"
There was another look he didn't know how to read, but Samantha found herself explaining it without thinking, "Honestly? No. I've been.. lonely for a good couple years now. And I haven't really been letting myself have.. this kind of fun, this kind of.. thing. Dates. Flirting. Just.. nice convos with nice dudes. My son might be a little disappointed that I came home sans Schnauzer, but.. this.. this," She gestured between the two of them, "Has been.. pretty nice so far. I like it. And the.. ca- no, dog-fishing thing is.. definitely a dating tactic I won't forget!"
"Oh- Oh." Ron couldn't think of the right words, but he could feel how red he was. Pretty Samantha was okay with the dog thing. Dog-fishing. And it kinda sounded like she might want to go on another date? … Dog.. Fishing.
"I've been fishing before, uh, that's how my dad died actually-"
"Oh, shit, i'm so sorry-"
"No, um, he sucked, s-so.. it's fine, but-"
He found himself sharing more of himself with her, no longer having to worry with the lie of a dog, and freshly rejuvenated with excitement of a possible love-life. He really liked Samantha.
Ron could practically feel his tail wagging all night.