Draco to Tiny Race Cars: Pt. 1

     Draco to Tiny Race Cars Part One
'But I don't want to go among mad people,' said Alice. 'Oh, you can't help that,' said the cat. 'We're all mad here.’ ~ Lewis Carroll
Due to the sadness of my last week or so… I have decided to try and fight that back with a humor post. Laughter is supposed to be the best medicine right? So when your heart is broken you should laugh… hard but here goes.
 
I suppose some of the funniest events in my life have been my dates. If they even qualify because most of the time it ends in me running for my car or a can of pepper spray… 

The first really odd date I can recall was a guy who I met through a mutual friend. Someone somewhere thought that I would be compatible with this guy… We agreed to meet in front of a local store; I was not comfortable having him pick me up at home. He told me he had a black car with limo tint and “ground effects”. I had no clue what that was… but luck was on my side! His was the only black car in that back parking lot that day.
 
We will call this man, uh… Draco. Draco cracked his window and I could see he was wearing dark round Lennon-type sunglasses. He was really pale and had bleached his hair recently as his scalp was still irritated from the shoddy job he had done of it. He calmly said he could not come out of his car for very long and perhaps we should go in his car. Not being one to relinquish complete control to a stranger I said I would just allow him to follow me to the destination; a really exciting meal at was then the “new” restaurant in town wait for it… OUTBACK STEAKHOUSE! Sweet Jesus, it was going to be a hot time in the city that night! Wallaby Darneds for everyone!
 
We get there and he parked his car in the shade on the farthest side of the building. I typically park as close to the door as I can but this guy obviously does not. Fine, whatever. I park a couple spots down. I watch him carefully as he gets out of his car; I am pretending to reapply some lip gloss or something. My father taught me to observe my situations so I am eyeballing this guy pretty carefully; he did already set off some weirdo flags by only cracking the window and wanting me to ride with him. Draco literally darted up to the side of the building staying in the shadows and skirted around the side the whole time in the shadows. I am a sun sensitive, pigmently challenged individual myself so I get the idea of avoiding sun exposure but this was ridiculous. So I was cracking up and attempting to stifle this amusement as I walked inside. He was waiting… in the shadows. I told the waitress we needed a table for two; Draco added that we would require the blinds to be shut around us or a table in the darkest corner. At this point, he has yet to remove the stupid ass hat he has put on OR his really stupid ass sunglasses. I notice now also he is wearing white makeup and had powdered his lips to give them no color. Suddenly I am thinking you freaking shaved for this. 
 
The hostess gave me a sympathetic look as if to say “You sure you want to sit with this guy?” He did meet some of my superficial requirements of my early 20s or late teens… whenever this happened. Of course, I am only 24-ish so this was really not THAT long ago. I digress. He was at least 6 feet tall and had a confident stride, a swimmer’s build, his mannerisms were jerky and seemed overly controlled but I wrote that off to nerves. Draco’s choice of clothing, black with more black, was a bit depressing but typically you can help guys in this area by giving them clothes or going shopping with them. Besides, maybe he is color blind and who am I to judge? 
 
So we sit down in the darkest hole Australia has to offer.
 
The girl took our drink orders and he just wants water; I needed a drink and I prayed she would not card me. She didn’t I think she knew I needed something stronger than Coke to deal with this asshole. Strawberry Margarita, with the extra shot, salted rim. Thanks. He starts looking at the menu I know what I want so I just pretend to look and watch him. I cannot figure out where I have seen “him” before. He seemed so familiar. Once he has decided on something and puts his menu down the bread and drinks have arrived. I, in my best southern drawl, ask if he plans on removing his sunglasses, it is such a dark corner surely the light is not bothering him here. He seems to look around; I am thinking yeah asshole we are literally alone back here no one is going to see your lazy eye or whatever you are trying to hide. 
 
He whispers “I will take them off for you because you may as well know.”
 
I am thinking such a great friend of mine that fixes me up with a gothic freak. Little did I know or was prepared… He removed his sunglasses and his contact lenses gave his eyes a weird white tint. I managed to maintain a polite smile and told him he had interesting eyes. Draco claimed that he wore contacts to protect his sensitive eyes; the sunglasses were an added precaution. He placed his hands on the table and I noticed he had a better manicure and longer fingernails than any man I had ever seen. Of note as well was that his hands were also exceptionally white and powdered like his face. He slid off his coat and I notice some sort of animal skin pouch around his neck. Hunting in the south is not all that uncommon but this guy did not strike me as the really outdoorsy type. Curiouser and curiouser. 



 I was about to ask, but the waitress arrived for food orders. I gave her my order and he looked at this poor girl who had apparently lost the straw draw back in the kitchen for this table. .. And said to her none of your food is really something I can tolerate but if you will indulge my tastes I will try. At this point, I am glaring at him. He orders steak, VERY RARE steak. He said he wanted it to moo when he stuck it with a fork. She tried to explain that state laws… blah, blah, blah. Still, he kept on explaining that if he needed to speak with a manager he would. Poor girl just rolled her eyes and asked him what side he wanted. He requested veggies raw. She looked at me with a look that seemed to be waiting to see if I would mouth that I had been kidnapped.  As she left I ventured to ask about the animal pouch. He held it out for me to see; but told me I could not ever touch it. Okay, why is that?
 
“It holds my talisman,” Draco replies.
 
“I beg your pardon, what?” I say as sweetly as possible. 
 
“A talisman, for protection from those that would seek my demise.”
 
Well alright, points for knowing the word demise and using it in a sentence, even a fragment sentence. So obviously I HAD to ask.
 
“And who is seeking your demise? And should you be sitting with your back to the door?”
 
Draco answers “Oh I will know if they come for me. I am a vampire.” 
 


I did not have Crohn’s disease at this time, yet I still nearly crapped in my pants. The pressure from trying to choke down any laughter made me feel I needed to poo. This man clearly believed his story and I did not want to question him. Twilight was not even a sparkle in that Mormon lady’s mind yet… so it was not really cool to believe, or pretend, you are/were a vampire. I surmised I was sitting across the table from a luna-fucking-whack job.  

I feigned as much interest as possible; though not before taking the sidecar shot of tequila STRAIGHT without mixing it in the drink first.
Then it hit me, mid gulp, I had seen this before. He had watched “Interview with a Vampire” enough to have perfected Lestat’s mannerisms and in fact some of his speech patterns. Draco still gave his own inflection to it, with a vaguely forced Eastern Europe accent. (Even though he had told me he was raised in the South.)  Food arrived, thank God. Although I was thrown off my food by his bleeding steak; I think if he thought I would have stomached it he would have drank the juices off his plate. Of course, I cannot be sure; that would have been most impolite and well Lestat was a gentleman.
 
It really was unfortunate; Draco was intelligent and well-read. He enjoyed theater, ballet, and all the classical arts that I am fond of. We were able to discuss Chopin and Debussy, politics, art, and famous literature. I had never met a man until that point that had read Jane Austen… by choice. Nor had I ever known a Southern man to have seen an opera or admit to it. 
 
The fly in the sweet tea was that whole vampire thing. I asked him how he came to that conclusion; he smiled baring his teeth. He had some caps over his canine teeth that made them sharp and like a vampire. He looked ridiculous. The rest of his ensemble was what he called his adaption to life in the modern world. His grander garments of time gone by were at home; you know because he came from a different era. Draco began to tell me his elaborate story of how he was “turned” and of his master. That was around the time I excused myself for the restroom. I found my waitress and gave her thirty dollars more than enough to cover my bill and give her an overly large tip. I asked her to let him know that his undercooked steak had made me ill and that I had to leave.
 
He called for a while after that… I think it is needless to say I never returned his calls. Nor that of the friend who thought we would be good together. That cow must have thought it was funny or that my pale skin and his pale skin would make great pale-skinned babies. No, according to the things that Draco told me I would have to convert to his lifestyle and babies are not part of the equation. Well damn it all to hell, that is a deal breaker…