My date had gone to the restroom when the woman from the other end of the bar walked past me, holding my gaze long enough for me to notice. I was already on a date. This was an inconvenient time for the evening to become interesting.
The date itself had started going wrong almost immediately. I’m in my late fifties, and I’d met this woman through online dating. Within about thirty seconds of meeting in person, I had the impression she would rather have been somewhere else. Her arms and legs were crossed, her posture seemed closed off, and the conversation felt forced. None of that came with an official explanation, but the overall presentation wasn’t exactly encouraging.
At first, I put it down to nerves. Meeting a stranger you’ve only known online can be awkward, and an uneasy beginning doesn’t necessarily settle the whole evening. I gave that possibility some time. As the date continued, though, keeping the conversation going felt increasingly like work. We had managed to meet; enjoying it was proving more ambitious.
Later, I noticed a woman at the other end of the bar. She looked perhaps twenty years younger than me, and I found her attractive. She was with a man who looked around five years younger than me. I assumed they were on a date, although I had no way of knowing that either.
The bar wasn’t crowded. I hadn’t noticed them earlier, but I caught her looking in my direction once or twice. Then my date got up to use the restroom, and this other woman seemed to follow her. As she passed me, there was that longer stretch of eye contact. For a brief moment, the most promising part of my date appeared to be someone else’s.
Maybe she was flirting. Maybe I was giving an ordinary glance a very generous interpretation because the conversation in front of me had become such hard going. I’m aware that noticing an attractive woman look at me is not the same as receiving an invitation. The man sitting with her was another good reason to avoid writing the rest of the story in my head.
Still, it brought back a peculiar impression I remembered from before my marriage: being out with a woman sometimes seemed to make it easier to catch someone else’s attention. On my own, I could feel as though I’d been placed on a deserted island. Apparently, the presence of a date might improve my visibility even when the date herself showed little interest in the view.
When she returned, we brought the evening to a close. I walked her to her car and thanked her for the evening. Whatever the woman across the bar had meant by looking at me remained unresolved. My own date was more decisive: she had unmatched me before I reached my car.
