Andrew was the kind of guy whose few closest friends had a difficult time coming up with adjectives to describe him. He wasn’t distinctly much of anything, but he was agreeable. Because of this, he was usually described as being “a nice guy.” As often happens with the excessively agreeable, he was also painfully shy.
After months of admiring, he finally mustered the courage to ask the handsome brunette at his bus stop out for dinner. Momentously, for Andrew, he agreed. They arranged to meet at 7pm at the little wine bar down the street from the bus stop. Andrew figured it would be convenient for him since he must live in the neighborhood, what with the bus stop he used every day being so close by. Andrew was a nice guy.
At 7:20, the waiter asked Andrew if he was sure he didn’t want to place an order. Even though Andrew was starving, he told the waiter he’d wait a little while longer. He didn’t want his date to come in and find him eating and be embarrassed about being so late. Andrew was a nice guy.
By 7:35, with no word from his date, Andrew decided to go ahead and place an order. He was probably not coming. He probably got caught up in something unavoidable and pressing. Even if he didn’t and he had just decided he didn’t want to go through with the date, Andrew didn’t blame him. That wasn’t entirely true. He did blame him, but he tried not to. The guy can’t help it if he didn’t like Andrew that way. At least he’d given him some thought.
A few minutes later, the waiter brought Andrew’s meal. Andrew thanked him and ate his dinner, but couldn’t really enjoy it. He paid the waiter and tipped well for his patience over the course of the evening. It was a nice meal, after all.
As Andrew walked home, he looked into alternate bus routes for the morning.