"Was it the midget, or the woman that slapped you in the face?" She says this in all seriousness as she fishes a barely dusty peanut out of her pocket and begins to eat it, momentarily distracting him from having been caught having done something warranting a black eye from either a midget or a woman.
"Well?" She stares at him, bringing him back to the events of the night before.
"I don't remember, but I know it wasn't a fucking horse that bit your inner thigh." His response breaks her surface with a smile. She laughs, they are even.
They met months ago, better or worse timing could not have been planned. She had a boyfriend, but he treated her badly. She was taken immediately. He didn't even remember her face. Later, friends would let her down gently, "Um, sweetie, he's not really sure who you are...and I think maybe you should take that as a sign." She took the sign in hand and walked through the door.
They met again weeks later in a smoky bathroom where neither could meet the other's eye. She was on a date. He had to leave early to catch a plane to see his mother. She flew up into the hills for interpretive dance and to watch a man urinate on himself. She thought of him...and his barbecue sauce. When he offered to cover her in it and throw her on the grill she thought briefly of fava beans and hannibal lecter.
She took pepper spray on their first date. She takes pepper spray on all her first dates. Not that she is in the habit of dating murderers and rapists, but one can never be too careful. They ate pizza and salad with their hands. She thinks they watched a movie, but can't really be sure. The conversation was stilted and peppered with nervous giggles. She noticed that he seemed to be sweating a lot and commenting on his bad circulation.
As the days turned into weeks they settled into that level of comfortability which comes from familiarity. She got to know his dog. He grew to love her cat.