Veronica: A Date with a Star

Richard looked at her, surprised she was so tiny, next to his tall frame.

She tried to stand tall, despite being only five feet. Stomach in, chest out, back straight, shoulders a little back, chin up, and smile. That was what the personality coach always told her to do.

Even when they sat next to each other she still had to look up at him. She was initially thrilled at the thought of having a date with him, a basketball star. Someone whom people get to see on TV. After all, he's handsome, he's popular, and rich. Not that it mattered. All she wanted was a picture with him that she can show off to her friends at the office.

They talked about many things: current events (good thing she liked to read the newspapers), music (Killing me Softly by Roberta Flack was the hit of the day, and they both liked classical music), movies, ambitions, school.

"So, who's your favourite basketball player?" he asked her as the waitress set their dessert plates.

"I don't know," she said shrugging her shoulders.

"Girls are agog over Francis or Atoy or Bobby."

"Nah, not me."

Then he asked her, "Tell me, do you like me enough to want me to be your boyfriend?"

The cheesecake was halfway to her mouth and she had to put her fork down.

"Are we being frank here?" she asked.

"Yes," he replied, and she saw that his eyes were full of honesty.

She smiled, no longer shy, and dabbed her lips with the linen napkin from her lap.

"You're nice and everything..." she started to say.

"You've never been out of the country," he cut in, the deep set eyes glinting in the candle light, "and yet where did you say you learned to speak English this good? I swear you grew up either in the States or in Britain."

She furrowed her eyebrows. "In high school," she said, rather hesitatingly. "I was the oratorical champion. We had a subject called 'Speech 1' and my teacher taught us how to pronounce properly. We used the IPA, that's the International Phoenetic Alphabet."

"Is that in a lab with all those gadgets, headphones, what-have-you?" He looked at her through the rim of his wine glass.

She shook her head. "Just in the class, my teacher would just produce the sound herself. She was very good. We studied the symbols."

He nodded as he placed his glass down.

"So you were saying I am nice and everything. Sorry to have interrupted, I just had to ask."

"You're nice and everything, but you're not my type." She sheepishly covered her mouth with the napkin. "Sorry."

"Why am I not your type? You don't like basketball players?" He feigned hurt, putting his hand over his chest, but he was smiling.

"It's not that you're a basketball player. It is that you have so much..." she hesitated.

"What?" She got him curious.

"I don't like men with too much hair!" She brought her shoulders an inch up not knowing how else to react after her statement.

He bursted out laughing. "You mean I'm getting rejected for my body hair?"

"Nobody's getting rejected here," she said, "but..."

He reached out and placed his one long hairy arm around her shoulders, pulled her close and kissed the top of her head. He let his face linger for a brief while as he took on the scent of her long black hair and kissed her again.

"Thank you for being honest, V," he said as he let go of her, but his arm stayed on her shoulders a while longer. "I like you, I like your honesty. I think we can be friends."

She nodded. The cheesecake was good though, so she picked up her fork again and finished it.

"There was a boy in high school who was the basketball star of the varsity. I heard he's gone professional." She told Richard over coffee.

"He was your boyfriend?" he asked, his eyes teasing her.

"Almost, but not quite."

"Why almost? What's his name?"

"Jason. Apart from him asking me to watch him play, nothing ever came out of it. I wasn't really the most attractive girl in high school."

"High school is always different. But, believe me, you are a very attractive girl."

"But I'm not your type either, huh?" she said, her face blushing.

"Well, I haven't gone out with anyone as short as you. But I like you very much. I'd like to go on another date, if you would agree."

She gave him a look of shock. "You mean this is a date?!"

They both laughed and gave each other a high five.


A week later, a large bouquet of beautiful red and white roses arrived at her desk. She dialed Richard's number and told him she's allergic to flowers, did he mind if she gave it to the girls in the office? The next day, he sent her a big box of imported chocolates. She never dated Richard again nor seen him again in person, but every Christmas time, for the next seven years, he would send her gift baskets. There was always the same message: "To the unforgettable girl with the most beautifully scented hair. Love, Richard, your hairy admirer".