The Dating Game
by
Heidi Mannan

    I knew club music would be loud, but I didn’t expect it to shake my eardrums so hard. I didn't expect the women dancing in string bikinis either, and I certainly didn’t expect Minnie to be one of them.
    I squeezed through the crowd, tripping over someone's Doc Martins, grabbing onto one of the waitresses carrying a tray of drinks. My hand rubbed against her breast. I felt the blubber of it and my heart wouldn’t stop running. "Uh, sorry," I said, but my voice vanished in the music. The waitress didn’t seem to notice. Men probably grabbed onto her boobs on purpose all the time. I wondered if I could get away with it again. The only other boob I’d touched was my girl cousin’s when we were in junior high. It was much smaller and had cost me five bucks.
    I spotted Minnie among the crowd, wiggling her voluptuous hips to the beat of the synthesized drums. Watching her, I wanted to wiggle my hips too. When I swung them back and forth, though, I felt like my mother had just caught me in a private moment. I suddenly wanted to go home and read the third book in the science fiction series I’d started a couple nights before. But Minnie was only a few paces from me, this time in flesh and blood, not just in my wetted down imagination. I knew if I didn’t act now I’d die a lonely man.
    I walked right up to her and tapped her on the shoulder, since it's the proper gesture to ask someone to dance and all. She turned around and glared at me. "Watch it, buddy."
    Apparently, she thought I’d tripped into her. I didn’t know what to do. I couldn’t dance if my life depended on it. I just stood there like an idiot next to these totally hot babes in string bikinis. I had a feeling that everyone in the place was watching me. They'd probably kick me out soon, for being such a looser.
    That meant one thing: I had to act fast. I brushed the loose hair from my eyes, prayed the dim lighting hid most of my zits, and walked up to Minnie, from the front this time. I smiled big, like a king-sized dork, I’m sure, and waved.
    She looked at me like she was seeing toilet scum. I thought she might actually throw up.
    "Minnie!" I shouted over the music. I could smell onions on my own breath. God, why did the world always have to work against me? "Minnie, don’t you remember me?"
    Minnie, hips moving, breasts jiggling, hair swaying, muscles pumping, oh-so-hot, looked at me a little closer.
    Please God, don’t let her see the zits.
    She shook her head and turned away.
    I tapped her on the shoulder again and felt my face flush red at my bravery. Thank God, again, for the dim lighting. "Last weekend," I yelled onion breath at her. "I saw you at the park, remember? I was reading under a tree and your dog peed on my leg." Suddenly my cheery voice, screaming into a room in which the music had temporarily stopped, sounded absurd, and totally inappropriate for what I was saying.
    Minnie flung her hair over her shoulder, that glorious golden sheet of silk. "I told you I was sorry about that," she said.
    "No, no, no. I’m not here to complain. It’s just that, well, I heard you tell your friend to meet you here tonight."
    "Are you stalking me?"
    "No, well, maybe. I don’t think so. I just thought maybe, well, you probably have to walk your dog all the time."
    Minnie looked lost.
    "Well, you know, I thought I’d make a great dog walking companion."
    "Oh, you want to walk Oscar?"
    "Great! When’s a good time for you?"
    The music started again and Minnie had to put her lips next to my ear so I could hear her. My pants suddenly felt tight in the zipper region.
    "Come by tomorrow." I felt her hot breath whispering into my oh-so-lonely ear as she recited the address.
     I reached out for her. I didn’t mean to, it’s just how my body reacted to having her so close. She turned away before I could touch her boob.
     I couldn’t believe I actually had a date with Minnie. It was the best moment of my entire life, next to winning a free trip the Star Trek convention. I couldn’t sleep that night. I’d get to see Minnie all the time, I’d know what the interior of her apartment looked like, I’d be able to bump against her a feel her various body parts against mine.
     Eventually, I was sure, I’d get her to kiss me. And I figured once I got a girl to kiss me, she wouldn’t want to stop there. I figured I’d be a pretty good kisser, too, since I’d had so much practice: with my pillow, on my hand and with certain magazines.
     I stopped by the address Minnie gave me every day for a month. The weird thing was that she was never home. I didn’t want to admit to myself that women don’t normally live in pawnshops. Especially ones where the guy working there has never heard of her.
     I’m over Minnie now. Now I have my eyes set on the girl in the returns department at Wall Mart. She’s no Minnie, but I overheard her telling a coworker that she’s going to a certain bar this weekend. I bought a new shirt for the occasion, and I’m thinking about using some of my mother's cover-up. God, I hope nobody heard that.

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