Death and Dating

“Some people flirt with death, but you’re dating it.”

Prompt by /u/Vicidus 

“Hey Libby?” I asked.

“Yes?” She replied.

“We’ve been dating for a while now and I-”

“Oh my god are you proposing to me?”

The other restaurant goers quieted down and looked at us.

“No no no,” I tried to assure everybody, “I would never propose to you! I mean, uhhh not right now.”

The old ladies sitting around us gave me evil stares as the their men chuckled and returned to their dinners. Libby gave me a strange look.

“What I was trying to say was,” I paused, “we’ve been dating for a while and I still feel like I know nothing about you.”

“I mean what do you want to know?” Libby said as she leaned back and crossed her arms, an annoyed look on her face.

“Alright well for starters, you’ve never told me where you grew up.”

“I don’t see why it’s so important but if you must know,” she took a sip from her glass, “I was born in some hell hole I never want to step foot in again.”

She just stared down at her glass, this must be a really rough spot for her.

“Look I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you,” I placed my hand on her arm, “I just wanna know more about the woman I love.”

Her teary eyes looked up at me and she smiled.

“Do you really love me?” She asked.

Before I could answer, the young waiter came with our check.

“How was everything?” He asked in his overly hospitable voice.

“Great,” I handed him my card.

“Yes it was to die for,” Libby dabbed her eyes with her napkin.

“Alright, I’ll go out this in for ya,” he speed walked away from the awkward situation that was an arguing couple at dinner.

We went back to normal conversation as we waited for our receipt. The whole time I couldn’t stop thinking. Do I really know this girl? I mean he always talked about me and what I was doing. She did occasionally mention about “working” at a hospital and volunteering at a retirement home, but I’ve never actually seen her working. I tried fitting together the various bits and pieces of abnormalities I’ve noticed and it could mean only one thing.

“Uhh sir?” I snapped out of it to notice the waiter handing me my card back. A confused look on both him and Libby’s faces.

“Oh thanks,” I quickly grabbed my card and stood up, “we should get going.”

Driving home my mind was still racing. We drove in silence. Half way home, Libby finally spoke up.

“Is something wrong?”

Without thinking I blurted out,

“Are you a serial killer?”

“Excuse me?”

“I mean it’s fine if you are, I’m willing to look past it”

“Are you serious??”

“I’ll help, if it keeps me alive. I’ll do it.”

“Why do you think I’m a killer?”

“C’mon I’ve seen Dexter, all the signs are there.”

“If I’m a killer, why don’t you turn me in?”

“Because I love you.”

“Do you mean it?”

“Yes, if my soulmate is a serial killer I guess I’ll just have to deal with it.” I said.

“I’m not a serial killer,” she sighed, “but if I ever start you’ll be my sidekick.”

“So what are you?”

“Can I trust you?”

“Always Libby”

“Promise not to freak out?”

“No guarantees, but I’ll try”

“Well,” she took a deep breath, “I’m Death”

“Come again?” I asked, because I definitely didn’t hear that right.

“I am what you mortals call Death” she said nice and plainly, like it was a common thing to be like a nurse or an accountant.

“Wait so you’re the Grim Reaper, like the one with the cloak and scythe?”

“No silly,” I let out a quit sigh of relief, “my father is the Grim Reaper”

“Jesus Christ” I let out.

“No, he’s of no relation. Pretty hot though,” I just gave her a confused look, “Oh don’t tell me you’re gonna get jealous now!”

“Sorry it’s just you being the literal embodiment of Death is a little hard to comprehend”

“Well you wanted to know!”

“This doesn’t make any sense.”

“Don’t you remember how we met?”

How could I forget? It was May 14, a Saturday, I was at a baseball game with my buddies. It was the 4th inning and we decided to grab some overpriced food. A piece of the $10 hot dog went down the wrong pipe and I began to choke. It was terrifying. My friends said I was turning purple. I thought I was gonna die, I felt the cold presence of death begin to creep up on me. Before my vision went I saw her, Libby. Standing there was this beautiful woman, while everyone else looked concerned, she looked at me calmly. All my fear and dread went away when I met her eyes. Then the hotdog dislodged and I puked all over the already beer soaked concrete. After the whole ordeal I introduced myself to Libby and for some reason we hit it off. Wait a minute…

“Oh my god were you there to kill me?” I asked.

“No I don’t kill anybody!” She shouted back, “I just take their souls to the afterlife.”

“Am I dead?”

“No! You just had a near death experience,” she explained, “I’ve only been doing this for a couple hundred years so I don’t have the best judgement yet.”

I just started laughing uncontrollably, eventually having to pull over on the road.

“What’s wrong with you?” Libby asked, very concerned.

“I’m sorry,” I said, “I just can’t stop thinking about all the death puns I’ll be making.”

“You’re an idiot, but at least you’re my idiot.”


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