My Imaginary Date with Alcide Herveaux

June 11, 2012 § Leave a comment

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It’s really hard to find a photo of Joe Manganiello with his shirt ON.

Alcide arrives on my doorstep 10 minutes early for our Saturday night date. He’s wearing tightish jeans and a grey crew neck T-shirt under a weathered brown leather jacket. I invite him in for lemonade while I finish getting ready. I’m wearing dark skinny jeans and a white tank top under my vintage 1970’s motorcycle jacket with my barely broken in Frye boots. I go easy on the jewelry and makeup, but I do throw on some special occasion mascara.

He sniffs my jacket and even through my perfume he recognizes the scent of its former owner- a packmaster from upstate New York Alcide met on a couple of road trips. He asks if I often date wolves. I can’t tell if he’s joking or not. I tell him I found it in a consignment shop. He gives me a toothy grin, shifts his weight and chuckles at the coincidence. As we head out the door, he nods toward his big black Harley-Davidson. I suggest we ride together. He scoffs at my Honda Rebel, but also looks a little impressed and agrees.

We roll up to a local BBQ joint and stake out a picnic table near the water. He goes up to the window to order for both of us. I check in on foursquare and Yelp, bookmarking the place to review later.

Alcide sits across from me and talks a bit about his surveying company. He asks me about my writing, my childhood and other generic first date topics. He likes my smaller tattoos, but not my half-sleeve. I sense that he feels it obstructs my femininity as he seems to like uber feminine girls. He likes my eyes and curly hair. He says I remind him of the forest at night.

Our food arrives- two hearty plates of pulled pork, baked beans, corn on the cob and lavish slices of corn bread. We debate Carolina vs Texas style BBQ, Louisiana falling somewhere in the middle. We both like a little kick in our sauces. He dives into his plate foregoing his utensils. It vaguely reminds me of the way my dog eats wet food and I find it both endearing and slightly repelling.

I point out that he’s got a little BBQ sauce on his shirt and he nonchalantly tears his whole shirt right off. I am immediately uncomfortable. Alcide senses my discomfort and sheepishly puts his jacket on. We continue pleasant chitchat and discover we have similar tastes in music, movies and meat.

After dinner, we leave my bike and go for a ride on his. Alcide likes that he doesn’t have to give me riding instructions and I like having my arms wrapped around him. Our banter has gotten better and we’re laughing at every red light before careening off into the night again. He stops near a trail in the woods and we walk for what seems like an hour- me clinging to his arm because I’m terrified of the woods at night and him with his free hand gently clasped over mine as he leads me to a small dock overlooking a lake.

I wonder how many dates he brings here as we sit on the edge of the dock with our toes in the water. Alcide seems much more comfortable here. He puts his arm around me and we play connect the dots with the stars reflecting on the water’s still surface. He tells me he feels like he can really be himself around me. I wonder if that’s just a line.

When I start to yawn, Alcide rides me back to my bike and then back to my place. He carries my helmet for me as we approach my door. I thank him for the nice evening and he leans in with a meaningful kiss that lasts just long enough before handing me my helmet. He tells me he had a great time and that he’ll call me next weekend.

He calls on Tuesday and we talk all night.

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