“Well alright”, he said, nursing his second glass of gin and tonic. For me, I probably have lost count. His eyes were turned away, scanning our surroundings. Or maybe that plant by the window… why was he looking at a cactus?
“Where do you grow up?” at this point, I was still trying to answer his questions nicely, but a sigh escaped my lips. I guess there are some things that we just can’t help.
“Auckland, actually, New Zealand,” he looked surprised, I could barely care. I was stirring in my seat, dress way too tight to have a casual conversation, shoes beginning to wrap around my feet like they were going to crush my feet. “Yeah, but I’ve been in Manhattan since I start college. I’m still…” I took a pause. I was about to bring up my thesis paper, but this topic is such a drag, and what I said to him felt like a line from a script that I’ve trained myself to say. Also for a fact, that talk is long and a part of me is already screaming to leave this date and be in my bed trousers, watch How I Met Your Mother or Friends. Or sappy classic rom-coms.
“No, wait. I don’t want to put you through the pain of having to listen to me talk on and on about my school life,” I said, downing the entirety of the margarita I have left in my hand. “It’s a painfully long talk anyway.” On impulse, I kicked my shoes off down the table.
“Tell me, how many dates have you been to this past two months, trying to find the right one?” I asked, out of random impulses. Somehow at this point, I’ve completely loosened up the facade that I usually play to impress my dates. He displayed a perplexed look, as expected. Well, of course, I’ve just bombed him with a particularly emotional question.
“well… five or six, maybe?” he hesitated.
“And nothing, before me, no one stuck?”
“There was this one girl, Sav, but it wasn’t mutual. She didn’t want the second date. I gave it up.”
I slammed my empty glass of margarita to the table and gave him a stern look. “You felt it but you gave her up. You could’ve tried a little bit more if you wanted to.”
A sigh escaped my lips. I’ve lost count of that too long ago. “Maybe we don’t need this, Austin. Honestly, I’m here because I’ve always wanted a boyfriend, and I’ve met some fine men.” My frustrated hands were all over my hair, messing up the locks. “all of them are nice but our relationship always ends up in the dump. I want to be loved, but I’m not ready to commit. There, my baggage, what’s yours?” at this point, I was pretty convinced that he was thinking that I’m drunk. I was, though, but on a lot of disappointment instead of alcohol. Or was it both?
“I…” he unexpectedly laughed and downed his tonic drink, expressions saying ‘fuck it, I’m done too’. “Honestly, Anna, lately I like having popcorn in bed while watching anything, everything. I’m trying to finish this series called The Good Place, it’s pretty solid. It’s about philosophy if you’re interested in it.”
“I share your concerns. Maybe we need to be alone to just reevaluate everything, and not jump into these second dates, not be anywhere that heads to a serious relationship. I should admit, it scares us. It scares me, and maybe that is why it’s only been a repetition of new dates for me. I’m giving it a rest.”
I downed the glass of margarita I’ve ordered… wait, when and how did I order this? Subconsciously? Maybe it’s the fact that I have quite intently listened to him. Only now that he started to sound interesting, not looking at cacti and all talking about my favorite series. Honesty makes you look like a mess, but it is unfair how it turns someone the opposite sometimes. The opposite of a mess? hot mess.
“I’ll call, Anna,” he smiled back at me and settled the bill, then escorted (or dragged) me to the cab that he called. I was alone again, sitting at the back seat of the yellow car, resting my head against the windowpane. He probably wouldn’t call, he probably would, but I guess that moment I’ve decided that I’ll be just fine. Somehow I felt it in me, although we had a great conversation at the end, I didn’t want to be with him. Not the guy from my previous date. Not the guy from the two dates before him too. I’ll be just fine because my dates were fine, but I love my bed better. I’ll be okay because I know I’ll feel lonely but I’ll choose a glass of hot chocolate by the fire on my own all the time, than being with someone I barely know, and trying to impress them.
My phone screen lit up a gentle gray, Austin’s name displayed on Caller ID. I stared at it quite empty-minded before slid the red button. I called my dad instead.
It’s time to learn that I am content to be on my own.
