I got a very unpleasant surprise when I arrived at the restaurant he suggested, only to find that it was outdoors and it was scorching. The flowers around the tables and the olive trees were all very well but where were the fans? Where was the air conditioning? Do they not cater for those prone to a bit of sweating at all?
I had met him online and from his photo I could tell that he was good looking but I was not prepared for the man in front of me. He was tall, dark and handsome; every girl’s dream with a flashing smile in a fitted shirt. I could feel my armpits start to dampen. Oh no, please god, not today.
As soon as we made our introductions I realised that I was in big trouble. The hot guy coupled with the hot sun was making my sweat positively stream from my under arms.
By the time the food comes I realize there’s no way I can stay sitting there without turning into a swimming pool. I wish had my No Sweat underarm sweat pads that I’d bought from Amazon. Damnit. I’m going to have to go to the bathroom and fashion myself some form of pads. I notice the cloth napkin by my plate and slyly slip it into my bag. Just one won’t do though.
I see that he has a napkin right by his arm and I can feel my hands start to itch for it. ”Look how beautiful the sun is today!” I say emphatically pointing behind his head with my finger. Looking mildly alarmed at my sudden awe for nature, he turned his head to look at the sun. Seizing my chance I grab the napkin by his plate and put it into my bag. Success! He turned back to me squinting and amiably agreed that the sun was very lovely today. What a nice guy.
“This pasta looks delicious!” he said happily picking up his fork. He looked quizzically around the table for his napkin, picking up his plate to check it wasn’t there. ”Lost something?“ I asked. ”My napkin seems to have disappeared” and looked under the table. I peered under the table with him and remarked that the wind must have blown it away. ”I’ll just ask the waitress for another” he said shrugging. I silently congratulated myself for my oscar winning performance. ”Can you excuse me just for a second, I’m just going to the bathroom” I said and with my arms clenched to my sides I dashed away.
In the bathroom I inspected the damage. My heart sank as I saw the big damp rings under the arms of my dark red top. I sighed when I thought of the Cosmopolitan article I had read stating that men found red to be the hottest colour on women. Thanks Cosmo I definitely look hot… hot like I’d been sitting in a furnace. With a flash of relief I saw the hand dryers and shoved my armpits underneath… but why was it so weak? This must be the least powerful hand dryer ever made! The owners of this restaurant would be getting a vehement email as soon as I got home. ”Your food may be Michelin star and your service may be excellent but your hand dryer efficiency is quite simply abysmal”.
Suddenly a woman enters the bathroom and I’m forced to dart out from under the dryer. I make a great display of drying my hands and give her a nonchalant nod. She gives me a sympathetic smile in return. She definitely saw. There’s nothing for it but to go back to my date now. The sweat circles have gotten smaller but they’re still quite visible, especially if I move my arms. I decide to just somehow keep them tightly to my sides. I lodge the cloth napkins firmly under my armpits and walk back out sending a prayer up that they’re thick enough to soak up the sweat and not slip out of my outfit!
Back at the table I managed to eat my food with my arms tightly by my sides and keep up a pretense of listening. He was a great guy. He enjoyed wine tasting and travelling and wasn’t averse to the occasional shopping spree and if that isn’t husband material then I don’t know what is. But all I could think about was the growing wetness under my arms!” I hope you don’t mind but I ordered us a bottle of wine” he said. Of course I didn’t mind.
When the wine came to the table he poured himself a glass and then I watched in horror as he placed the bottle down in the middle of the table. How was I supposed to reach over without exposing him and the rest of the world to my sweat rings? Ok I’ll try using force of mind. I look at him intensely and then look pointedly at the glass. He smiles and asks how the food is. ”Oh just lovely” I reply impatiently. I try again looking deliberately and intensely at the wine glass. He looks concerned now. “Are you ok?” he asks. ”Fine! Thankyou!” I reply. I really need a glass to help with the nerves but I can’t outright ask him to pour.
The sweat. The nerves. The sweat. The nerves. This is making the sweat even worse I can feel it trickling down my sides. I am just a big hot mess of sweat. I know that he must see me shaking but like a true gentleman he averts his eyes to his plate and pretends he doesn’t notice. I can’t take it anymore” would you mind pouring me some wine?” “Of course!“ he says jumping. He looks a startled mixture of embarrassed and taken aback. I cringe at what a princess he must think I am. I might as well ask him if he’s prepared a horse and carriage for our departure.
It’s finally the end of the date and I can almost feel the cool embrace of the cold shower that waits for me at home. Oh surely, surely he isn’t going for a hug. I fight the instinct to race like a cheetah out of the restaurant. ”Thank you for a great afternoon” I say and quickly proffer my hand for a shake as he steps towards me with his arms wide open. He turns an embarrassed pink as he shakes my clammy hand.
I wonder if he’ll call me again.
sweatyserena 