The First Date

The pair emerged from the art museum in silence, each too scared to make the first remark on what they had just seen.
Ben ran over the evening in his head, cursing himself for selecting a modern art museum as a first date.
“I might as well have taken her to a political debate!” he berated himself. “What the hell was I thinking?” He looked over at the delicate jaw line of his date and the hair falling over her ear and lamented the fact that he wouldn’t have a chance in hell at touching it if she found out he knew nothing about modern art.
They walked on and Ben wondered if he should wait for her to speak and just fake agreement or if she would know that he was faking it by not having the passion to speak first. Her lack of verbalizations only fueled his nervousness and he could feel the cold sweat starting to drip down his back. In his mind he visualized the success of his evening crashing and burning like a shot-down fighter jet. They walked on and still she said nothing.
Finally, when he felt like he would explode if she didn’t say something, he gambled on an opening sentence.
“So…” he began nervously, “what’d you think?”
She seemed to pause as if gathering herself, then looked up with bright eyes and responded “I’ve got to be honest- I’ve never been a fan of bricolage art.”
“Oh thank god,” he exhaled. “I didn’t know what to say- you were so quiet in there I thought you were seriously contemplating the pieces. I saw that pile of melted doll parts and I was petrified,” he laughed.
“Oh, I know- and that bath tub filled with packing peanuts and corn syrup? What was that?” she said, her voice light and amused.
He looked at her then, noting the raised eyebrows and brilliant smile and thought that he might just have a shot afterall.