The Date from Hell

This is a work of fiction. No true person's story was depicted here to the best of my knowledge. If I said your story or a part of it, or a story you know, it was by pure chance. The story and all good and bad parts of it or in it are mine. I don't have an editor, so please bear with any typos. I tried to get them all, but they always tend to creep up where you don't expect them to.

As a final word: I don't usually erase any comments. If you want to be an asshole to me, rest assured I am a bigger one, hence the name, so feel free to being your true selves. You literally cannot offend me.

Anyway, hope you like it. If not, sorry for your time. This last bit, from asshole to asshole.

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It was a nice evening at the coffee shop down the corner from my house, where my dear friend Joyce was trying to put some sense into me, the poor bastard named Rob. Joyce truly cares for me (please notice the present tense, all is thankfully good today as we speak), and shows it in a mother-hen sort of way, and I absolutely adore her. Don't get any funny ideas: all this as a friend - she is the wife of my lifelong best friend and work partner George, but at this point I have a hard time choosing between the two of them, and thank the Universe I don't actually have to; they are a package deal, and I do love the package. I care for them both that much.

She, for some reason unknown, felt that I definitely needed to find a "good woman, and yes, there are some of those too, you know!" and worse of all, she needed to be the one to find that elusive entity for me. She had tried to do that for a while, and the results were very... questionable, at best. But Joyce is such a sweetheart, so I knew she meant well. And she is so cute, talking with that sing-song voice of hers. A voice of a great heart. When we met we instantly knew that we would love each other as best pals - no romance or sexual chemistry at all - but she is perfect for my friend and a treasure of a friend for me. I would, without a shadow of a doubt, murder a village to keep her safe, although I would never see her as a romantic interest or she me for that matter. Weird maybe, but it happens. Still, her matchmaking abilities, unfortunately, left a lot to be desired.

"Joyce, you have been pestering me for over an hour now. I believe you need to stop this," I said.

"Rob, I wouldn't be on your case if I wasn't sure that you two are made for each other!" she exclaimed.

Did I say I love her singing voice? There you have it.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Like all those times that you said the same and it turned out to be... sub-optimal? No, scratch that. A bona fide horror story is more like it!" I remarked and chuckled.

"Oh, poor darling, how terrified you must have been. Poor you, against all those... girls! Poor, poor baby!" she said and laughed.

Well, to be honest, for an outsider, it did seem ridiculous; if you weren't there. If you were, it truly was a collection of horror stories for generations to come.

"Girls? We are still talking about the nutcases that you have been trying to send my way? Again and again? Certifiable, loony-bin wackos?" I asked, smiling at her.

"Oh, come on! I always warned you about any... traits you should know beforehand. You were forewarned, mister!" she playfully said in her melodious, sing-song manner. Such a sweetie, Joyce is.

"Forewarned?" I asked her. "Definitely not! I mean, yes, technically you did tell me to expect *something*, but you warned be about a light wave on a pond and I got myself against full oceanic deep impact mega-tsunamis, repeatedly so in fact."

She couldn't help but chuckle at that.

"Joyce, there came a time that I seriously thought you were playing me. Laughing your cute little butt off my demise. I mean..."

"Cute and little?! Hahahaha! I only wish! Hahahaha! Anyway, please be serious for once. Everyone has their own peculiarities. It is not a big deal. Oh, poooor little maaan!" she said and laughed.

"Poor for sure, Joyce dearest. Poor me, again and again! I mean... that last one... Debby she was? Yes, Debby. Oh Lord, she did not let me utter more than *three* sentences the whole night! I mean, for crying out loud!"

"OK, I told you she was talkative. I did warn you!" she sang.

"Joyce, talkative is one thing. Monopolizing the utterance of human speech for two hours is another. We are talking about a hostage situation here! I seriously hoped to be saved somehow. Do you understand that I was actually hoping for my very own wing-knight in a shining armor to scoop her up and save my ass? And damn, do I look like a friggin' princess to you? Yeah, thought not!"

She laughed hard with that one.

"And that other one, what's her name... Helen? Yes, Helen. Oh my God. Beautiful, I'll give you that. But..."

"Careful there, buster. She is my friend!" she warned playfully. What a combo. Warning but playfully. Joyce can pull this up like nobody's business.

"Joyce, please. One minute passed and she started crying over that guy... Justin something?"

"You mean Jacob, her ex..."

"Yes, thank you! Jacob. Well, you remember, I told you all about it. I learned *everything* there is to know about Jacob. How he smells, how he so beautifully farts when he makes that Godly sweet, sweet luuuuv..."

She almost lost it laughing. I kept going.

"... how his farts smell better than the Roses from the Garden of Eden and his asshole sings better than the trumpet of Louis Armstrong, and..."

She almost tossed her coffee laughing. I continued.

"... his shit smell like carnations, taste like Pizza Hut's special and ain't just edible, but nutritious too. Even Keto-friendly if you're lucky. Mmmmm, shit gets me hungry, for real."

She almost fell off the chair. But I did not stop.

"Lady, I heard it twice the first time! OK, he is *God*, the one and only. Then what the hell does she want with a mere mortal like me? I know MY shit ain't Keto. They don't have any nutritious value to save my life. Nobody could live much on a steady diet from my excrement, that much I can guarantee."

I watched her struggling to compose herself and chuckled a bit myself, before continuing my tirade.

"And, what's her name, Amanda? Oh Lord oh mighty, don't get me started there. When she opened her mouth I felt like a little girl on a steady diet of French, piano and savoir-vivre, as opposed to her, the proverbial sailor with a 30-inch super-dick! Her language was swear words interspersed with a few regular tidbits. 'Asshole this, fuck that, bitch this, fucking cunt that, motherfucking this, lousy piece of shit that, your mother's fuckhole this, your father's shithole that'. A true wordsmith. A woman's woman, feminine to the core. I get a hardon thinking about her. 'Fuckity Shit motherfucking fuck', oh Lord I'm ready to soil my pants. Yes, that was an actual transcription, no joke!"

She gasped for air. I had to put a lid on it soon if I wanted George not to assassinate me for the death of his wife, even if it was death by laughter.

"These were actual phrases she used, I shit you not! I am an altar boy, compared to her. No, scratch that, an altar gurlie. I sincerely looked at her pants fully expecting a hardon the size of John Holmes, but to no avail. And, my dearest Joyce, as you understand, I can go on and on and on, many more niceties like the aforementioned where these came from. Each time, a new level of shitshow. We should Reality-TV it. We are losing revenue here, I'm telling you! You should make this a business!"

"Oh stop it Rob, you're killing me! Ah, I can't breathe! Oh Lord!"

After a while, both of us with a semblance of composure.

"Rob, this girl is the one. I am telling you. She is your other half. Your soulmate. I just *know* it!" she said.

"Joyce, please leave it alone. It will fail. For sure. I can smell it from a mile away."

"Rob, stop it. She really is. The one for you. She is like, molded on you, it's not even funny."

"So, she's like me with a vagina? Is that what you are saying?"

She almost snorted her coffee through her nose.

"Joyce, f.y.i., I would *not* fuck myself given the chance. Except if you count masturbation, that is. But it is a different concept from fucking oneself, isn't it? Or is it?"

She totally lost it. She waved me to stop, she needed air. I obliged, chuckling.

"Look Joyce dearest. I know you will be on my case for eternity, so let's just get on with it. As the Greeks say, 'If a soul is bound to exit - a body - let it exit'. So, once you can breathe again, would you mind telling me about her? So that I know what lies ahead in my date of torture?"

Once she came to, she looked at me with a mild surprise.

"So you will get out on a date with her? You will do this?"

"Joyce, for some reason I cannot understand, I love you beyond words. You are like the sister I never had. I can easily say I love you as much as George, and he is my very best friend and has been so for so many years, but if I were to choose between him and you, it would be an incredibly hard choice for me to make. You know that."

"The feeling is mutual, sweetie. And I love him so much, I don't think you will ever have to make that choice."

"I know, my dear Joyce, and he you. And that is why I cannot say no to you. I will do it. But *please* tell me about her. I need info on my tormentor of the day, when it comes. And please don't understate the facts this time. You know that I will eventually find the exact truth, so please don't go PC on me."

"OK! Well, she is beautiful. And I mean, really beautiful. Like, beautiful beautiful. You'll love her. Also, she is super smart. She dresses well. She is not rich, but not poor either. She is middle-class. Single obviously. Uhm..."

"Joyce."

"...What?"

"The catch."

"What catch?"

"Tell me the catch."

"I don't understand..."

"Tell me the 'peculiarity', the 'idiosyncrasy' that I should be informed about. What is it this time? An ex boyfriend? Jealousy? Too much in love with herself? A serial cheater? An axe murderer? A nymphomaniac? A self-believing delusional liar? A schizophrenic? A pornstar specializing in all-holes-filled, many-to-one scenes with Bubba and Co.? A trans-woman with a bigger dick than mine? A fucking member of the Proud Boys?? What?! Come on, don't keep me in agony here Joyce!" I implored.

"Oh, oh, no! No! Hahahaha! Proud Boys! Hahahaha!! None of that, thank God! Hahahaha! Good one! Hahahaha!" she said, almost in tears.

"You mean to tell me she has nothing for me to watch out for?" I said skeptically.

"...well... not exactly..." she said in a sort-of hesitant manner.

"OK Joyce, spill it."

"Well, she is an independent woman."

"OK...?" I said, questioning her in the same time. What was the big deal about that?

"I mean, she has done very well for herself."

"OK. Great. Is that a problem?"

"If it is not for you, then it sure is not for me!" she said in a very sing-song speech pattern.

"Joyce, for real. Is that the peculiarity? That she is independent as a woman? That is pretty great actually. Come on, tell me. What is the catch?"

"Seriously, if you have no problem with independent women, there is none!"

"You ain't fucking with me?"

"No Rob, of course not! She is all I said. A beautiful, independent, strong woman."

"That's all?"

"Yeah, that's all. Maybe..."

"Maybe what, Joyce?" I uttered.

"... well, sometimes she does get a bit competitive. But this is something that most independent people have. I mean, you have it too up to a point, don't try to deny it!" she said, looking me in the eye.

"No, I don't deny it. That is true. Anyway, that's all you have to report?" I asked her.

"Yes, nothing more" she answered, smiling with a hint of enthusiasm.

"Well, OK then. Let's do this!" I said with as much enthusiasm as I could muster, after all the shit I went through in other Joyce-sponsored dates.

"Great! All settled! Here is her number. She expects your call!"

"Oh... OK. When should I call her?"

"Actually, wait..."

She fished her phone out of her bag, and called her 'beautiful beautiful' friend. She was on speed dial, which meant that she was a very good friend of Joyce's. That in itself had zero weight unfortunately, as past experience showed.

"Hey Alice, it is me! ... Yes, all great, thank you! And you? ... Great! Listen, I am here with Rob... yes, *the* Rob. Well, we talked, and he is super excited to meet you!!"

I frowned visibly and showed it. She dismissed my frown and continued as if nothing happened.

"...Oh, sure. Here, Rob, talk!"

She shoved me her phone. I didn't expect it, but had to compose myself in that short time-span physicists love to call 'dt'.

"Uh...Hello there..."

"Hello Rob."

Uhm. Beautiful, deep, sensual voice. A voice for a hardon. Good job so far, Joyce.

"Hello Alice. Nice to make your acquaintance, even in such a manner."

She chuckled.

"Yes, Joyce is a bit of a pushover, but I love her."

"That is something we have in common. I love her to bits. She is here all puppy-eyed, mocking the both of us as we speak."

The beautiful voice in the phone chuckled.

"So, how should we do this?" she asked.

"Well, I suppose we should find a free date first, and then see how we meet, correct?" I answered in an aloof manner.

"Yes, I suppose that is the way to do it." she countered half-giggling. Velvet of a voice. Uhm.

"Well, are you free, say..."

"Tonight?" she interrupted me. That was fast! Good job, Joyce.

"Uhm... OK, why not. Yes, tonight!" I answered, a bit surprised.

"Can you pick me up at, say, six?"

"Uhm... the shortest I can make it is 6:30. Will it be alright?"

"Yes, it will be fine."

"OK then. Where do you live?"

"Joyce knows my address, she'll help you with directions to find my house, it is pretty easy to find. She has my phone number. If she sends you my contact info, I would appreciate it if you texted me yours."

"Sure, I will do it right away."

Joyce signed for me to return the phone to her.

"Joyce wants to talk to you, so bye from me. We will see each other at 6:30."

"OK Rob, see you later. Would you hand the phone to her?"

"Sure."

And I handed the phone over to her. My face showed good enough signs for Joyce to be radiant and happy. She momentarily halted the conversation to send me a message labeled "Alice Johnson" with her contact info, email, telephone numbers and even a GPS location for her house. As soon as I entered her into the system, I sent her a "Hi, it's me, Rob." message and a message with my contact info, email etc. She replied very soon with a "Got it, thanx! xxx" with an assortment of hearts and emojis. All this time, Joyce was talking to her on the phone, chit-chatting as girls do. Alice probably had her on speaker or with a headset.

After Joyce ended the call, she was overjoyed.

"I just have a feeling that this is it, Rob! I believe that this is the best thing that could happen to both of you!"

I would truly hate to disappoint Joyce, she was so happy for us both.

"I hope you are right, Joyce. I truly hope you are right."

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The house was truly easy to find, and I didn't need any help more than the GPS of my phone, and that was just for safety. At six thirty I was outside a pretty nice suburban house. I rang the bell.

"Coming!" I heard from inside. The voice was Alice's for sure.

In less than a minute, the door opened. And what I saw was... breathtaking. No other way to describe it. Alice was a vision of beauty. "Beautiful" didn't do her justice - she was perfection personified. Not a blemish, all the femininity Venus was famed to have. Perfect eyes, perfect nose, perfect hair, beautiful, elegant neck, a beautiful, toned body, voluptuous but athletic in the same time. Just slightly shorter than me. I was speechless when I saw her. She topped it all with a bemused and witty smile that short-circuited my brain. Syntax Error your honor. Does not compute.

"Thank God extermination came by the house and killed the flies, or you would have eaten a few!" she said with an amused smirk. Beautiful, sensual voice. Her humorous but slightly stingy words, a wake-up slap.

"Uhm... excuse me. I did not expect..."

Her face changed a bit. Negative connotations?

"What?"

"...forgive me, I lost it. You are so very beautiful, and it took me by surprise, that's all."

She smirked with half-closed eyes, half-amused.

"Why would you be surprised?"

"Well, Joyce told me you would be beautiful, she actually said 'beautiful beautiful', but even so... You are stunning. Gorgeous. Cover-face beautiful. Traffic-accident beautiful actually. Since I was somewhat taken aback, I could easily say you are 'shockingly beautiful', if the term carries any merit."

My answer seemed to amuse her. Still, I don't think it surprised her, she probably was well-aware of her looks. She probably was reminded of her beauty 24/7 by pretty much all males out there. Women too maybe.

"Sorry to make this so awkward. Would you accompany me to the car?"

She closed the front door, locked it and put the keys in her purse. I showed her to my car, and opened the door for her.

I sensed something at that precise moment. She seemed to lose her smile. For some reason, my opening the car door did not fare well with her. Why on Earth? Very peculiar. She looked at me with a half-serious, half-bemused look, and stepped inside. I couldn't shake the feeling that my treatment was, for some unknown reason, not welcome.

I went to the driver's seat, closed my door and turned the ignition.

"So, where to, Rob?" she asked me. Her expression was no longer smiling; I would say neutral, even a bit poker face. As if waiting to see what I would say. It made me a bit nervous for some reason.

"Well, if I may and if you find it agreeable to your tastes, of course, I would suggest we go to Giorgio's. He has some fantastic..."

"Hmmmm... no." she countered in a resolute manner.

Ooops?

"Let's go to Giovanni's." she said. Kind-of emphatically. Not totally, but still enough to warrant attention.

"Giovanni's? Uhmmm... ok then. Let's go there. If you prefer that to Giorgio's."

"I do, actually."

A bit forceful, aren't we?

"Well, Giovanni's it is then." I said, and entered the place to my GPS.

"Great." she said with some degree of finality, like it was a thing to be done with. "Let's put some music on the radio..." and before she finished her words, she turned the radio on, stopping at a pop station. Loud.

In my car. Not even asking for the typical permission, as it actually IS MY car. And Loud.

Oh Joyce, you little shit. This is not just some independent and occasionally competitive woman - the understatement of the century. This will probably turn out to be a disaster. But we will see, won't we? Damn, has Joyce told all her female friends that I am the guy to take a dump on? What the actual fuck?

In a semi-troubled state of mind, I started driving. Soon after, I thought it pertinent to try and start some small talk with her. As we are both supposed to adore the same person, namely Joyce, I thought she would be a great topic of discussion. Silly me.

"So, Alice, how long have you been friends with Joyce?"

Nothing.

"I said, how long have you been friends with Joyce, Alice?" I shouted.

"You are talking to meee?" she answered, in between the super-loud music.

"Never mind."

"Whaaat?"

"Nothing, sorry" I said loudly so that she can hear me, with a small hand gesture.

She nodded and just looked outside, all communications severed under the pop bullshit bombardment from the radio. Joyce, I'll kill you. Even though I love you to pieces.

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After a torturous half-hour - for me at least - we arrived at Giovanni's. I turned off the ignition and started to exit the car, but she was already out. A probable sign that she didn't want me to open her door as I had done before. But "I will test that theory soon." I said to myself.