After an I-N-C-R-E-D-I-B-L-Y delightful dinner, Reindeer immediately reaches for the bill and pays. We both have long train rides home and need to use the unisex loo. He goes first. When it is my turn, I debate leaving my purse at the table. There is no cash to steal since I don’t carry any, ever. On the off chance Reindeer is a serial killer and rifles through my things, he won’t find my address because I still use my Minnesota Drivers License. The New York DMV is not an inviting place. Either is the bathroom so I leave my handbag behind.
While washing my hands I notice a dozen three-ounce votives adorning the six-foot long sink area, each with a trimmed yellow rose. One votive is missing a flower and I contemplate taking a flower for myself. They are so pretty. But they are in the toilet room and my pants don’t have pockets. So Reindeer will know I stole a toilet flower.
We collect our things and leave. Under a cloudless, starless, rainless sky we walk in a blissful, perfect silence. At the traffic light Reindeer presents me with the missing toilet flower. I am at once moved and disgusted.
We’re back in Grand Central Station and Reindeer has about 10 minutes before his 11:11 pm train leaves. At 11:08 pm the weird moment of goodbye arrives. He does not initiate a handshake, hug or kiss. Instead he says, “So…I’ll…we…see…talk…later.” What? Am I dating the desi Yoda? Don’t we have a totally amazing connection? What else could a toilet flower mean?
While Meera would have my head (we can all agree I have made a dating faux pas here and there) I lean forward and hug the inarticulate Mr. I’ll-We-See-Talk-Later. He seems to be fine with the hug. As we draw away, I peck him on the cheek so there is no mistake about my interest. The next move, i.e. making a second date is now in his court.
I walk away smiling so big my face might break. For the first time I KNOW he will call again. I am unable to shake the feeling that he is the elusive, THE ONE.