The Girl With the Pink Bat
Copyright© 2025 by DB86
Chapter 1
My phone pinged and I took a quick look at the screen. It was a message from my best friend in high school, Ray Clarke. He and his family had moved out of Middletown as soon as he graduated from high school. We sent each other yearly birthday and Christmas cards and texted from time to time, but we weren’t in close contact after he left.
What would he want?
I was tempted to type something back, but texting on a date might be considered rude, even when my date was boring me to death and I was dying to go home.
I placed my phone back on the table and did my best to focus on the guy in front of me. Not an easy task.
I met this guy at the mall. He was obviously a tourist. I was bored, so I let him start making conversation. I learned that he was an architect, and he was thinking about moving to a small town.
“How is it living in Middletown?” he asked me.
“Small towns are not for everyone. Most residents have lived here since they were born, and they’re very, um ... set in their ways, protective, and routine-oriented,” I explained.
The guy just looked at me.
“Middletown is a quaint old place. It has kind of a weathered feel...” My voice trailed off. “We are surrounded by all the best Mother Nature has to offer. It’s a very small town, quiet, and peaceful. People ride their bikes around in the summer. On warm nights, they sit out on the front porch and watch the sun begin its nightly symphony of painting the sky in vivid shades of orange, red, and violet. Anyway, this is how it feels living here.”
Then, he had said he would like to ask me out, but he said he was too shy. I thought it was a cute way of asking-slash-not asking me out. I know how some guys feel about that stuff, so I helped him ask me out and we went on a date.
So, here I was. Worst date ever.
He went from cute to having issues in no time. Everything he had said about himself was negative, like “I know I’m not really at your level;” “you’re probably used to dating better-looking guys;” or “my life is not really that interesting.”
“So, you’re a Leo?” he said.
I shrugged, “So I was told.”
“I’m a Libra.”
I had no idea what that said about him or me. Astrology had never been my thing. I did my best to avoid yawning.
“How many siblings do you have?” he insisted.
“Still just the one I told you about.”
I was not trying to be a bitch, but he made it difficult when it was clear he didn’t pay attention to a single thing I said.
Here he was this handsome guy, and all he could do was tell me what a loser he was, while putting away drink after drink and getting more and more depressed.
Needless to say, it was a big turnoff. No one wants to date a conceited ass, but who wants to date a person that thinks so little of himself?
So, I started asking him questions, but he was as interesting as a wet noodle. Which I suppose, to some, could be thrilling, but not to me.
I yawned a few times and said I was tired.
He wanted to walk me home, but I firmly told him I was fine. I ended our date early with a handshake.
It was not easy to find your better half in Middletown. It’s true that in a small town, there is a greater sense of community and the potential for more close-knit relationships, but it also offers a limited supply of dating material.
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