I stood in front of my mirror, adjusting the sleek black dress that hugged my curves just right. The soft fabric shimmered under the light, and for a moment, I felt like a star. I'd paired it carefully with strappy heels and delicate gold jewelry—every detail whispering sophistication and the promise of a fresh start.
Tonight felt special. My date had hinted at a "special dinner," and my mind danced with images of candlelight flickering over exquisite cuisine, wine glasses clinking between shared laughter. After the year I'd had, I was more than ready for a night that felt… hopeful.
Just a few weeks earlier, I had finally—at least mentally—broken free from a two-year relationship that had soured long before it ended. My ex-boyfriend had cheated on me, leaving my heart bruised and my confidence cracked. The real punch to the gut came later, when I learned I had been the unwitting third wheel in my own relationship. How could I have missed the signs? The humiliation still stung.
A year of focusing on myself had slowly pieced me back together, and now I was ready—cautiously, tentatively—to dip my toes back into dating.
My close friend from the same industry had all but shoved me toward this step. "You have to meet my childhood friend!" she'd insisted. "He's single, amazing, and treats women with respect. Total family-man material!"
After the chaos of my last relationship, the idea of someone genuine and grounded felt like a breath of fresh air. So, with hope simmering quietly in my chest, I agreed to meet this friend of a friend. Maybe—just maybe—there would be a spark.
As I stepped outside, the cool evening air wrapped around me like a reassuring hug. I allowed myself a moment to revel in the excitement. But as soon as my gaze landed on my date waiting by the car, the warmth drained from my body.
There he was—grinning ear to ear in an Arsenal Football Club jersey, bright red shorts, and… beach slippers.
I blinked. Hard. Surely my eyes were playing tricks on me.
"Hey, you must be Arisa! I'm Edgar."
His gaze ran over my outfit, and his face lit up like he'd just won the lottery.
"Woaah—okay, wow. You look hot!" he blurted, grinning proudly, as if he were responsible for my entire appearance.
Meanwhile, I stood frozen, caught between confusion and mild horror.
"Uh… thanks," I managed, my smile tight. My mind scrambled. What was he thinking? This was supposed to be a special dinner—wasn't it?
I slid into the car, careful not to wrinkle my dress.
I folded my hands in my lap, thumbs tracing small circles as the city lights streaked past the window. Each passing minute tightened the knot in my stomach.
The hum of the engine and the faint scent of his sports deodorant filled the space, and I forced a steady breath, trying to convince myself this was just nerves and not a sign from the universe.
"So… where exactly are we going?" I asked, trying to break the tension.
"Oh! My favorite spot! You'll love it. I go there all the time!" His eyes gleamed with enthusiasm.
My heart sank a little deeper. Your favorite spot?
Vague. Concerning.
He kept glancing at me with this earnest, almost nervous smile, like he genuinely couldn't believe someone had agreed to go out with him.
The silence that settled between us felt thick, like fog rolling in on a cold night.
After what felt like an eternity of driving, we turned into a familiar parking lot. I leaned forward, squinting at the glowing golden arches ahead.
No.
No, no, no.
My heart dropped. McDonald's?
I was dressed like a glamorous leading lady… for fast food.
"Surprise!" he said proudly as he parked.
I wanted to laugh, cry, and scream all at once. But mostly I wanted to scream.
At one point, he reached over to unlock my door for me—a simple, old-fashioned gesture that caught me off guard.
"I… uh, I didn't realize we were doing fast food," I stammered, glancing at my gown as if it suddenly felt ridiculous. Glamorous leading lady for fast food. Perfect. Just the kind of night I imagined when I fantasized about candlelight and violin music. Sure. This is exactly it.
Inside, the harsh fluorescent lights cast everything in a too-bright glow. Children darted between tables. The smell of fries and grease clung to my expensive dress.
I felt wildly out of place—like a rare jewel tossed into a bin of plastic toys.
Edgar and I approached the counter to order. He handed the cashier his tray like it was a crown jewel, grinning as if he'd just discovered the secret to life, while I hovered behind him, praying my dress didn't betray me by brushing against sticky surfaces.
"Two burgers, large fries, and one… uh… ice-cold soda, please," he said, sliding his card with a flourish that suggested he was negotiating world peace instead of lunch.
The cashier beeped in acknowledgment, and Edgar's grin only widened. "All set! Let's grab a table."
Seemingly oblivious, Edgar pointed at the Happy Meal toys displayed at the counter with genuine excitement. "Look! They've got the new superhero ones! Want to pick one?"
Pick one? I thought, staring at the tiny plastic heroes as if they were a test I hadn't studied for. I could barely pick myself up without tripping over my own dress.
I followed him, clutching my tray like a tightrope walker balancing a porcelain vase. The fluorescent lights turned my elegant dress into a glaring spotlight, highlighting every stitch of fabric that clearly didn't belong in a fast-food joint.
Around us, kids zoomed by like caffeinated missiles, and frazzled parents navigated the chaos with the skill of battle-hardened generals.
Edgar weaved through it all effortlessly, waving cheerfully at the passing children as if he were a beloved uncle in a sitcom. I trailed behind, silently counting my steps and calculating escape routes.
I clutched my tray like it was a ceremonial relic, daring to imagine that somewhere, a photographer was capturing this epic moment for a modern tragedy.
Finally, we reached a corner booth. He plopped into the seat with an exaggerated flourish, gesturing for me to do the same. I eased myself in, trying to ignore the cold vinyl and faint scent of fries lingering in the air.
As I slid into the booth, a ketchup packet rolled off the table and landed near my shoe. I nudged it away with the tip of my heel, silently hoping it wouldn't explode.
Edgar, however, was perfectly at ease, happily munching on his burger while I awkwardly picked at my fries, trying to express my dismay without sounding petty.
"So… what do you think? Cool place, huh?" he asked, beaming, completely oblivious.
"It's… unexpected," I said, forcing a smile that felt more like a grimace.
"I know, right? Best burgers in town! And no long wait for the food. Plus—look—unlimited ketchup!" He gestured at the dispensers like he was revealing buried treasure.
Unlimited ketchup.
Wow. How could I ever deserve such luxury?
Heat crept up my cheeks—embarrassment mixed with disbelief. I tried to focus on the absurdity instead of my disappointment. Each loud crunch of his enthusiastic chewing twisted my stomach—not from hunger but from sheer anticlimax.
I was supposed to be enjoying a romantic dinner, not questioning my life choices over a plastic tray.
I sipped my soda, wishing it had the power to wash away the evening's fiasco. Instead, bitterness bubbled inside me while he launched into stories about how McDonald's reminded him of his childhood.
Doesn't he get it? I thought, feeling like I'd walked straight into the world's worst sitcom.
Finally, after a long silence, I couldn't hold back anymore. "Listen, this is… fine. But maybe next time, give me a heads up? So I can dress for the occasion?"
His eyes widened. "Oh! Yeah, I didn't even think of that. Sorry! But hey, it's what's inside that counts, right? Doesn't matter where we are."
Doesn't matter?
Maybe not to him.
He talked about his long work hours and how he spent his weekends helping his parents with errands. Unexpectedly wholesome.
I watched him slurp his soda with pure contentment. Something inside me shifted—not quite resignation, not quite amusement. Just… perspective.
Sure, this wasn't the elegant evening I'd envisioned. But in a strange, absurd way, it was almost funny. Like the universe reminding me not to take myself too seriously.
Before I could stop myself, a laugh bubbled up—small at first, then genuine.
"Okay, I can't believe I'm saying this… but this is kind of funny," I admitted.
His face lit up instantly. "See? I knew you'd come around!"