I found this document while organizing some files today and had a good laugh. And yeah, it’s from my real life, but obviously, writing about my fake life is just not all that inspiring. 😛 Enjoy.
Tomorrow. The day that I’d been looking forward to for over a month was upon me, and suddenly, I was more terrified than excited. I stood in front of my closet, rifling through my clothes, tossing possibilities on my bed. Normally a jeans-and-t-shirt kind of girl, I had no idea what to wear on my first date with the man I’d been exchanging emails with for the last six weeks. Not a dress. It was too cold. Jeans and t-shirt didn’t seem right either.
There was a soft knock on my door.
“Yeah,” I called, the stress evident in my voice, even to me.
Mama opened the door and came inside, her eyes dancing with the excitement I should have been experiencing. “So, what are you going to wear tomorrow?” she asked, sitting down on the edge of my bed.
“I don’t know!” I groaned. I blinked back tears of frustration. “I have no idea. It’s not a fancy date, but I want to look nice, and I just don’t have anything in the middle!”
Mama gave me a sly smile. “Well then, I think we had better go shopping tonight. My treat.”
I sniffed and gave a tearful laugh. Oh, mothers. They always know how to make it better.
The next day, I stood in the middle of my studio, staring into the wall of mirrors. He would be meeting me here. He had just called to tell me that he was about ten minutes away. I checked the clock. No! That was ten minutes ago already! I stepped closer to the mirror to make sure I hadn’t smudged my mascara in my panic. I was happy with the outfit Mama had helped me choose. Nice-fitting khakis, a turquoise tank, and a copper slouchy sweater. I’d wound my long hair into a bun, and tried on about six different earrings before nixing them completely. Just a hint of sparkle graced my eyelids, which was perfectly in line with my one of my Grandma’s favorite bits of fashion advice: “Just a little glitter. Not too much, or you’ll look like a hooker.”
Simple, but cute. I drew in a deep breath, letting it out slowly. I was calm. I was cool. This wasn’t my first time on a first date. I could be cool. Noncommittal. Borderline icy. I had to be, because in my experience, if I let a guy think I was really interested right away, he’d think it was a done deal. Nope, can’t have that. I practiced my expression. Smiling, but smart. Guarded. You can’t win me over with flattery, saying all the right things. I’m done wasting my time on something that’s not real.
I jumped at the sound of my phone ringing, then accidentally hung up when I saw his name on my phone’s screen. Muttering to myself, I redialed his number.
“Did you just hang up on me?” The teasing voice asked.
My heart leapt to my throat at the sound of his voice. Calm down. “Um, yeah. Are you lost?”
“Nope. I see your studio. Just pulling in. I’ll see you in a sec.”
I hung up again, closing my eyes. There is absolutely no reason to be nervous. You’ve talked to him every day since Valentine’s Day. You know him, you’ve seen pictures. He’s just a regular guy.
I saw the door swing open in the lobby, but I was rooted to the middle of the studio. When he came through the door and smiled at me, my knees just about stopped working. He was ginormous. He had to duck his head to walk through the door. He wore blue jeans and a black fleece pullover with the Search and Rescue logo on it. My hero. The thought surfaced before I could push it aside, and I groaned inwardly. Pictures had not done him justice. I was always a sucker for a ruggedly handsome face, but really, I’d never felt so attracted to anyone as I did in that moment. And when he smiled, the dimples his pictures had only hinted at came into full view.
I was done for.
Calm down. Cool and smart, remember?
I managed to unstick my feet from the floor and crossed the room to meet him, a shaky smile pasted on my face. “Nice to meet you, Sir,” I said teasingly, extending my hand to him.
He grinned and took my hand, but only long enough to pull me against him in a hug. I found my face buried in warm fleece below his chest, my hands brushing over rippling-
Well, I never found out exactly, because I giggled and disentangled myself from his arms as quickly as I could. He smelled like sunshine and a windy hilltop. I shook my head, trying desperately to regain some semblance of composure.
“Want a tour?” I blurted, louder than necessary.
He grinned again. Kill me now. “Sure! This is a cool place!”
I returned the smile, then spun on my heel and headed toward the back of the studio, babbling on about who knows what. Filling the air, most likely. I don’t even remember what I was saying, because all I could hear was the pounding of my pulse. This was ridiculous for me. I was always the cool one. I was always the one in control. It’s the only way it ever worked into something that wouldn’t break my heart or damage me in some way in the end. I was losing, and I was losing fast. Air. I need air.
“Ready to go?” I asked when I found myself back in the middle of the studio. “We could grab some lunch before the play.”
We walked side by side out the door and onto the red brick sidewalk. “Where are you parked?” I asked, bouncing on my toes. No one else in sight, but I wanted to get out of town as fast as possible. In this town, it’s hard to go anywhere without seeing someone you know, who will then mention it to your grandmother (Who you purposely didn’t tell about this weekend’s date), who will then tell everyone else that you were importing a husband from the other side of the state.
I didn’t hear his response, because my eyes caught sight of an elderly woman emerging from the shop just a few doors down. When I saw her bright burgundy puff of hair, my stomach dropped to my knees. Oh sweet Lord.
The woman turned, and an expression of surprise, pleasure, and curiosity flashed across her pretty face. Her red lips parted as she smiled. “Well hi there!”
I sighed and grinned back at her. “Hi Grandma!”
My grandmother started sauntering over to us. Don’t ask me how. Even at 72 years old, the woman could saunter.
“That’s your grandma?” Micah whispered.
“Yes. Um, don’t take anything she says too seriously.”
I didn’t have time to answer, because my petite grandmother stood in front of us, holding a basket on her hip and giving me a look that clearly said, “We’ll be discussing this later, my dear.”
“Grandma, this is Micah.” I said, offering no other explanation.
“Betty,” she said, taking Micah’s extended hand and giving him a once over. Twice.
“Nice to meet you, Betty,” Micah said warmly.
“What are you two up to?” Grandma asked.
“We’re going to a play,” I replied. “What are you doing? It’s your day off.”
She reached into the basket and pulled out some unfinished embroidery. “Oh, I left this here yesterday. It’s a baby blanket.”
“Oh! Who’s it for?” I asked. I instantly regretted it when she turned up the corner of her mouth in a teasing grin.
“It’s for you, if you’ll ever hurry up and get married!”
Seriously. Kill me now.
I started laughing before she’d even finished the sentence. “Well, Grandma, we need to go or we’ll be late.” I hugged her, then turned with Micah to cross the street.
“Come in and see me on Monday!” Grandma called after me. “Still need help with that computer thingy!”
“You bet, Grandma!”
Micah opened the door of his tan truck for me and I climbed inside. At least Grandma had broken the ice for me. I was positive that nothing more terrifying would happen for the rest of the day.