Modern Dating
John and Jane, middle-aged friends who connected at a Feeding America rally almost a year before, ate dates by the swing set. Passing strangers shot them bizarre, darting looks over the playground’s fence posts. John thought these looks were deserved, but Jane didn’t. Jane always ate her dates by the swing set. Not John, though. He usually only did so in private. It felt wrong—the open display of it all—somehow.
When the police car pulled up, John’s first instinct was to run. Sure, we’re eating our dates, Jane and me… but that can’t be illegal? And playgrounds are public property. Surely there isn’t an age restriction that applies to being on public property.
“Are you insane?” Portly Officer Chooch yelled out of his window to John and Jane. “What on earth are you eating?”
“Dates!” Announced Jane. She smiled at Officer Chooch. The moisture from a fresh bite dribbled down her petite chin and plopped onto the woodchips.
“Look. I’m going to need you both to step away from the swing set. You say those are dates you’re eating?”
“Yes.” Replied John. “We sourced them virtually.”
“How do you mean?”
“Well, there is an app. You have to sign up and fill in a bio and then, you get to swiping. The goal is to match with a date and then meet up in person.”
“So, what then.” Officer Chooch said, confused. “You head on over to the grocery store? To the produce aisle?”
“I suppose you could.” Jane said, lifting her head from her meal, chewing loudly. “The type of date’s sort of irrelevant in the end.”
“I disagree.” John retorted. “Not all dates leave a proper good taste in your mouth. I’ve done a couple.”
“Go on.”
“That’s it.”
“Huh?” Officer Chooch scratched his head.
“Oh. And—I’ve done a few huge Omanis, too.”
“Mhm those are the best.” Jane cooed. “But that’s too much information, hun. You don’t need to be so specific.”
Officer Chooch meanwhile was furiously scratching notes into his notepad.
“No, no. Please. I’d love more specifics.”
Jane huffed.
“Why? Is this turning you on, sir?”
“No, not in the slightest.” Officer Chooch replied, mouth agape. “In fact, this is easily one of the most disturbing things I’ve ever witnessed in the… flesh.”
“You really think so?” John asked hopefully.
“Absolutely. Wait. Can you two hold up your dates and smile for the camera?”
John and Jane did so, and Officer Chooch snapped a photograph with a small digital camera.
“The Chief isn’t going to believe this.”
“Would you like to try some?” Jane asked Officer Chooch, motioning towards the dates laid out on the wood chips.
“I don’t think that would be appropriate.”
“And why is that?” Said Jane.
“Because you can’t just… go around… eating your dates. It’s not okay.”
“There’s no law against it.” John assured Officer Chooch.
“Actually, there are tons of laws against it. You should know—.” Officer Chooch proceeded to quote the district manual and The Constitution, and he identified the particulars of certain laws inscribed in other certain legislatures. He talked about things his mom and dad taught him about when he was a child, and even pulled up an internet article that contained in it a whole bunch of “common sense.” As Officer Chooch droned on, Jane and John chomped and slurped and chewed and quietly conferred with one another. The dates seemed to enliven them both, they agreed. The blood had, literally, returned to their cheeks and their hearts were thundering, pumping out strong and regular beats.
“Who needs coffee when there are dates.” Jane whispered to John.
Officer Chooch finally ended his monologue and lifted his head.
“Is there a hose around?” He asked.
“I don’t think so.” Jane replied. She fished between her teeth with a fingernail. A devious smirk had almost finished sprouting on her face.
“Alright. Well, here.” Officer Chooch threw two sets of cuffs to Jane and John. “Do me a favor and put these on and then hop into the vehicle. I’ll throw down a towel.”
John started to whine.
“But we’re almost done!” He picked up an especially meaty helping of one of the dates. “I’ve been saving this bite for last.”
“Well, shoot. I suppose the damage is already done. Hurry on now. I haven’t got all day.”
John and Jane cheered, licked their lips, and then dove in. When they finished eating, they slapped on the handcuffs and then piled into the back of the police car. Pulling away from the scene, Officer Chooch phoned the Emergency Clean-up crew and warned them as best he could.
During the ride to the police station John and Jane babbled about their favorite bites, comparing notes. John liked the Arabian, lauding it for its slight effervescence.
“It had a tinge of spice.” He reflected.
“I found it to be tough. Nothing can top the Khassui, for my taste.” Jane countered. “Though given its size I wonder if steroids may have been involved.”
Officer Chooch watched the playground shrink behind him in the rearview mirror. He sighed. He would need to track down any living relatives and let them know about the catastrophe that occurred there.
Best to deliver news this tragic in person, the police officer surmised silently.
Then, he felt his stomach rumble.
“Do you mind if I stop by the Drive-Thru for a quick burger?” Officer Chooch, suddenly starving, asked.
“That’s disgusting.” John and Jane scoffed, plugging their noses with their blood-splattered fingers in unison. “But, what the hell, go ahead.”