Survival

“Yeah, I’m a cancer survivor,” I say to the beautiful woman across the table from me. She seemed startled by the small bandaid on the tip of my nose. This first date was off to a bit of an awkward start. I had considered postponing the date, when I learned that my excessive tennis play had produced a basal cell on my nose and the doctor suggested immediate surgery. My buddy suggested I color the bandaid red, like a funny nose. Maybe that was sage advice.

“Oh my gosh,” she said. “I’m so sorry. Are you okay, now?”

“Yeah,” I said. “It was just a bad cell on the end of my nose.” I pointed and laughed. “It’s nothing really.” She looked a bit irritated already.

“You said on your profile that you liked to play tennis,” I said, moving along. “Are you active on any leagues now, or anything?”

“In this heat, are you kidding? No, I haven’t really played in a while, but I am willing to play.”

“It’s kinda my thing. That’s where the nose burn nose trouble nosey business came from. Too much tennis.”

She laughed. “That makes sense.” An awkward silence began.

The silence continued as I scanned my prepared questions for something less aggressive. “Um, so, your profile says you’re a realtor, what is your specialty?”

“Yeah,” she said, looking like she was about to get up. “I don’t really sell anymore, I’m more of a connector, a rainmaker.”

“That’s interesting. Business development, then?”

“Yes, and surprisingly, I get a ton of leads from online dating.”

Read more Short-Short Stories from John.