First Date Number Two

I went on a date with someone new. I still took my ex to dinner.

His name was Marcus, from Hinge. Cute, funny, actually asked follow-up questions. A green flag in a hoodie. Everything I told myself I wanted.

He asked where I wanted to eat. And my mouth said, "Oh, there's this little Italian place on Elm Street."

The same place Ethan took me on our first date. The same one with the red candles and the wobbly corner table.

I didn't even think. I walked in, asked for the corner table, and ordered the exact same pasta. The same dessert. The same sparkling water with lemon because Ethan once said it made me look "classy."

Marcus was lovely. He laughed at my jokes. He told me about his sister and his dog and his terrible year at work. He reached over and said, "I'm having such a good time."

I smiled. Said, "Me too."

But I kept looking at the door. Waiting for someone who wasn't coming.

On the ride home, Marcus asked, "Do you come here a lot?"

"First time," I lied.

I got back to my flat, kicked off my shoes, and finally let it hit me. I'd planned the entire night around a memory.

Marcus took me on a date.

But I was still taking Ethan.