He wasn’t just proving a dream date, he was proving a dream guy. He was fine with them splitting the bill, he didn’t get up when she excused herself to go to the restroom, no sly peeks at his smartphone when they were talking, no holding the door open for her – not for the restaurant, not for the car – although he did gesture her to both go in and sit in before him.
Fastening her seat-belt as he started the ignition, she noticed what she had missed when they were on their way here: not a single god’s idol on the dashboard or anywhere around. Wow, could he be the mythical, truly liberal guy? Why, she could go ahead and uninstall Tinder after this.
Hope coursing through her and culminating in a smile, she asked, trying to keep it as cool as she could, “So, how come you don’t have any godly pix or idols like every other car…?”
Smiling, he pulled out a small idol from the recesses of the cockpit, touched it and then his forehead, put it back in, and replied, feeling he had salvaged himself, “Here you go. I just keep Him in here to avoid Him getting dirty and dusty.”
‘Damn,’ she sighed, looking away. ‘Our babies would have ruled the world.’