Status: Finally complete.

Seven Date Me

The Happy Date

Sunday came much faster than I thought it would. I had texted Gerard Friday night to tell him that I would meet him out the front of the Starbucks at twelve o’clock – that’s when my shift ended. He took a while to reply to my message, and when he did I could clearly see his remorseful personality in it; he apologised for how much time I must have been spending organising this and told me I could still back out if I wanted to do. I realised then that this wouldn’t be as easy as I’d been telling myself it would be. Never again could I forget what day it is, because a slip up like that could destroy everything between us.

I worked quickly all morning to keep up with my orders so I would be able to leave right on twelve o’clock. Five minutes before midday I told Michelle that I was off for the day and headed to the back room where I stowed my apron and changed my shirt from the regulation black polo to a plain white t-shirt and shrugged a worn denim jacket over it. I waved goodbye to Michelle on my way out while I slung my backpack over my shoulder and grabbed the coffee I’d made for Gerard earlier. During our text messaging I had told him not to come into the store for his usual morning coffee during our date week. I figured our dates would be better if I hadn’t already seen him before I collected him.

Gerard was already waiting out the front when I exited Starbucks. He waved at me immediately, a broad smile on his face, one of those ones that actually reached his eyes.

“Hi, Frankie!” he greeted me. “You’re looking well.”

I glanced down at my clothing – which really wasn’t all that impressive – and met his eyes again sceptically. His smile didn’t waver and I found myself unable to fight the urge to smile back.

“You look good, too,” I replied. He was dressed

“So, date one – what do you have in store for us?”

The great thing about today’s date was that he was genuinely happy all the time. That meant that I could pretty much organise anything and he would be pleased. As this was our first of seven dates, it really took the pressure off me. Later in the week I would have to start pulling out all the shots, but today things could be relatively laidback.

“Something first date worthy,” I replied, handing him the coffee I’d almost forgot about.

Taking the cup, he linked his free arm through mine and looked down at me with a small toothed grin. “And I bet whatever it is will be amazing.”

As we walked away from Starbucks and proceeded I soon realised that happy Gerard really did come with no off switch. He was exuberant the whole time, chatting happily, always smiling. It was hard not to be infected by his happy attitude, and soon I found myself smiling as much as he was.

I learnt a lot about him in that short walk from Starbucks to our first date destination. For instance, he told me about his family; he had a younger brother who he was very close to, and despite being very close to his parents, he only saw them a few times a year since they moved to Florida after his dad had retired. He explained that working in the library was one of the only jobs he could hold down; he had told the librarian there about his illness and to work around it he would be put in different sections of the library depending on the day.

“That’s the worst thing about having MPD,” he told me, “people always tiptoe around you and change everything to suit your personalities. But hey, at least I always get my own way, right?”

That was the thing about Gerard on Sundays that I came to really like. No matter how good or bad something was, he would always find the positives to it. I was jealous of his ability to do that, but at the same time I felt sorry for him because he couldn’t hate anything on Sunday even if he wanted to.

We walked for about half an hour – because I intentionally took the long way – before we arrived at Monster Mini Golf. Sure, it wasn’t the most original idea for a first date, but I didn’t want to come on too strong too early. Also – monster themed mini golf!

“I haven’t played mini golf since I was a kid!” Gerard exclaimed enthusiastically as I led him up to the doors.

There was a look of genuine excitement on his face right from the moment he realised what we were doing through to when I paid for us both and handed him his club.

“Are you sure you won’t take any money?” he asked light-heartedly as while we walked beneath the cemetery arch to the first hole.

“Positive,” I replied. “I asked you out, remember?”

Spring had just begun, meaning the weather was still quite chilly, so I was thankful that this mini golf course was indoors. The building had no windows and inside the walls were black. There’s no fluorescent lighting there either; it was all glow in the dark artwork. Crazy, twisting, swirling roads, neon green hand prints, dark purple clouds, evil trees with faces, and a bunch of other demonic things glow to create a source of light. Each hole connected to the next through a series of winding paths like a hedge maze. There weren’t many other people there that day thankfully, otherwise trying to play through all eighteen holes would have been incredibly tedious.

I let Gerard go first, mostly to be polite, but partly because he was wearing quite tight jeans and I knew he’d have to bend over to put the ball on the glowing pink plate. He lined up his shot and tapped the ball lightly. It hit the corner and went right, stopping just short of the hole. I stared at him with my mouth open; he simply smiled, shrugged his shoulder, and took a step back so I could take my shot. It took me a moment to recover from his serious skill before I stepped forward and took a swing myself. My shot was shit. It went straight past the hole and bounced back again, landing yards away from Gerard’s ball.

“It’s okay, Frankie,” he said with a smile, “you still have seventeen more to get right.”

The sad thing was, he was being one hundred percent sincere and not mocking me like most men would do in the same situation. But the date got even sadder as Gerard continued to flog my ass. He got more than three holes in one and didn’t go over par once. Who does that? Seriously! I was making a fool of myself in front of the devilishly sexy Gerard Way and quickly became angry for it and angry at Gerard for being so good at mini golf. However, my anger toward him quickly disappeared; when he smiles at you so innocently it’s impossible to stay mad.

“You could have told me that you were good!” I complained at Gerard as we returned our clubs and golf balls. He had well and truly beaten me.

“My telling you wouldn’t have made you a better golfer,” he replied, that beautiful smile of his still in place.

He was right; there was no way I could have argued my way out of it, even if I had have tried.

Monster Mini Golf also had an arcade section with various video games and crane machines. I wanted to prolong my time with Gerard, so I suggested we stay a while longer and play some of the games. He gave me another one of his happy smiles and nodded enthusiastically. This extra time with Gerard was also the perfect opportunity for me to regain some of my dignity. I led him over to the air hockey table, grinning inwardly; this was by far my best skill in an arcade setting, and I had over a hundred wins under my belt.

“Should I tell you whether I’m good or bad at air hockey?” he asked jokingly.

“Go on,” I instructed while I slotted a few coins into the table.

“I’ve only ever won at this a couple of times in my life.”

It was difficult to keep the smile from my face when he confided that in me. I was sure to win at this game, which was good because I needed at least one victory to hold over him.

We started playing, timid at first. I skilfully sunk the puck within the first fifteen seconds. Gerard congratulated me on my goal and placed the puck back up on the table. He hit the puck harder than he had before, sending it quickly toward the goal, but I blocked it and sent it flying back down the table. The puck narrowly missed Gerard’s hand and slid into the goal.

“You’re doing well,” he enthused.

I shook my head and said in a slightly sultry voice, “Don’t try and sweet talk me, mister, just play the game.”

He winked. “As you wish.”

The next thing I knew, the puck came shooting towards me and landed straight in the goal.

“Lucky shot,” I mumbled, placing the puck back on the table.

I shot the puck back down the table on a strategic angle, but Gerard anticipated the action and blocked it skilfully. In one swift movement he diverted the puck from his goal and sent it careening back up the table. In my attempt to stop it I accidently knocked it backwards into the goal. We were equal and I was furious.

“Oh, it’s on!”

We began hitting the puck frantically. The yellow disc was moving so fast that it became almost impossible to see it on the table. Gerard accidently scored a goal for me, I knocked the puck of the table once, and the game was that vicious that we both ended up with bruised knuckles. In the end, Gerard beat me by one goal.

“You hustled me!”

“I didn’t hustle you,” Gerard defended himself calmly, “I just wanted you to feel like you could win against me after earning yourself such an awful score in mini golf.”

“How kind of you to mask your insult with sweet sentiments,” I said sarcastically, but I couldn’t keep a small grin from my face to match the remark.

He took my hand gently in his and looked at me through warm hazel eyes. “Let me make it up to you.”

Gerard guided me over to a crane machine by the entrance to the course. It was filled with stuffed animals and characters from cartoons. He extracted a few coins from his pocket and pressed them into the slot. The machine came to life with its small red lights flashing on loop and jaunty music. Gerard manoeuvred the large claw around the glass enclosure until it hovered over a creepy looking Frankenstein toy, moving it ever so slightly to line it up accurately. He pressed the red button on the control stick and the claw dropped, latching onto the toy and lifting up again. Both of us watched on nervously as Frankenstein dangled precariously from the claw; it looked like it would drop back down in the sea of toys each time the claw jutted its way across the glass enclosure.

“You got it!” I exclaimed to Gerard as it dropped from claw down to the flap.

He bent down and pulled it out, handing it to me. “For you,” he said sweetly, “for being a reasonably good sport.”

“And a good date?” I probed.

He shook his head lightly. “A great date.”

“I’m glad you’re having fun,” I replied truthfully, feeling relieved that I wasn’t screwing this delicate relationship up just yet. I checked the time on my phone. “How about a late lunch?”

“As much as I want to spend more time with you, I’ve got to get back to the library. This has been fun, though.”

My heart fell a bit when he said that, but I understood; we both had to work around our work commitments. I called Gerard a cab, then walked him out to the street to wait for it to arrive. We exchanged details for Monday’s date – time, attire, etc – but it, at least on my part, was just conversation to stop my mind wandering. What were the rules for first date intimacy? Should I kiss him, hug him, stroke his cheek? I didn’t know. I felt awkward, so I just pressed on with conversation until the cab pulled up in front of us.

“Thank you for such a nice date, Frankie,” Gerard said warmly, opening his arms out to me for a hug.

I was glad he made the first move, and I easily stepped into his arms and hugged him back. It was definitely too long to be a “friends” hug, but it wasn’t too romantic either. When he pulled back I made the bold move to kiss him on the cheek. He beamed at me and returned the favour.

“See you tomorrow, Frankie.”