One step in front of the other. Forward. Further. Please let me just arrive. If I arrive safely everything will be good. I won't have to worry about anything else. Please let me just arrive. There is nothing stopping me. There is nothing in my way. No tree has fallen and is blocking my path. I haven't suddenly lost the ability to walk. One step in front of the other. Forward. Further. I wish my head was empty, that all the thoughts going through, running rapidly through would stop. Why can't I just concentrate on walking. That's the most important thing right now. If I don't concentrate, I don't think I'll ever arrive. I feel like I should be sweating. That I should collapse in the middle of the street. Anything could stop me. Concentrate! One step in front of the other. Forward. Further. I can feel myself getting closer. It's like I'm walking in slow motion. The world is stopping around me. Everyone is looking at me. Takings bets. Will she arrive safely, or will she stop? Will she ever arrive, or will the journey last forever? I was beginning to wonder this myself. I was beginning to wonder about everything. Wonder about everything except what was really important. Remember! One step in front of the other. Forward. Further. I was amazed I hadn't gotten myself killed. It was like I was having an out of body experience. Running beside myself. Looking at this girl deep in thought. Wondering what was troubling her so much. Wishing I could put a hand on her shoulder. A reassuring pat to let her know that someone was with her. I was her though. At some point everyone would be that girl. Everyone would feel how she does. Like the world is going to end any moment. Like these will be the last steps you ever take. That no one could ever possibley understand how you were feeling. These emotions were specific to her and her alone. She was special. Just like every other person walking down the street. Lost in their own worlds. Lost in their own emotions. Yet we'd all probably had the same thoughts, same problems, same emotions at some point. Yet no one seems to understand. Why is that? Reality check. That girl you're watching, running beside. Wishing you could touch, just for a second. She is you. One step in front of the other. Forward. Further.
She would arrive. Eventually. Would he be there though? Would he be stood waiting, looking nervously around. Getting ready to pounce on everyone that turned that corner. Would she have to wait for him? Would she stand feeling more stupid as the seconds passed. Glancing at her watch every now and then. Wondering if she was misjudging the looks of pity she was getting from people. Did they know? Did they know she was about to be stood up. That this man would not come and see her. The poor thing they would think. She looks so lovely. How could he do that to her. Or maybe they would arrive at the same time. Then what? Shake hands? Should she grasp his hand firmly, show she was a force to be reckoned with. Or would she just rest her small hands daintly in his big macho hands and be taken away by his manly charms. She knew she would probably end up doing a girly little wave, and then spend the next ten minutes telling herself off, while he worriedly looked at her, wondering if she would ever stop frowning and mumbling to herself. He would think she is cute, insane, but cute. What is cute? All she knew is, it's not sexy. You need to be sexy. Cute means they think of you as a teddy bear. It's alright to cuddle, but soon gets kicked out of bed when cuddling gets tedious. It does get tedious. She arrived. She hadn't stepped in any puddles. No cars had splashed her. The rain had laid off long enough for her to arrive with hair intact. If it rained now, at least he would of seen the good stuff. That she had made the effort. He was stood waiting. She didn't mean to stare. She couldn't help it though. He wasn't handsome. She was under no illusions. He looked confident though. She wanted to hide and watch him for a while. She wanted to make him nervous. He hadn't spotted her yet, and so far he hadn't looked at his watch. Why wasn't he looking at his watch? Why wasn't he biting his nails, and pacing up and down the street? Why was he just leaning against the wall looking like he was some kind of wall flower, growing in confidence by the second. He may not be handsome. His confidence certainly made up for it though. He had appeal. He was charming, and funny. He made her laugh. Before he had made her feel at ease too. Now though he was a major factor to her nervous disposition. She walked up to him, and stuck out her hand. Being confident, and appearing confident, were almost the same thing.
He arrived. He was far to early. He drove passed the decided meeting place three times hoping he would see her stood there waitng. He didn't though. He thought she might be doing the same thing lurking somewhere waiting for him to show up. Neither wanting to be the one stood waiting, looking to eager. Looking like he hadn't had a date for the last year. Or the last two years either. He was a man. He almost growled at himself to prove this status. He didn't though. He parked his car got out, and walked to the decided meeting place. A restaurant. He didn't think they would be eating there. They might though. Had they agreed too? He didn't know. It would be handy. This wasn't a date of convenience though. This would take effort. He realised this. This girl would take effort. She wasn't easy. She carried herself in an awkward manner. A manner that made you just want to pick her up and carry her about the place in a bid to ease her awkwardness. She was the kind of girl that should float everywhere. Just float into a room. He smiled at this thought. He was here, and she wasn't. He knew he was early, and he fought the urges to look at his watch. He was early. How should he stand? Hands in pockets. Hands out. Leaning against the wall or standing straight. He went for leaning. Before arriving for this self torture mission he had spent a great deal of time looking at himself in the mirror. Far longer than any man should look at himself in the mirror. He had reached a conclusion in this time. There was men out there better looking at him. This hadn't upset him. Shocked him slightly, yes. He knew he had charms that other men didn't have, or maybe they just didn't need them, and he needed all the help he could get. No! That wasn't the case, and thinking like this would lose him his biggest asset. His confidence. With that thought leaned even more. Cool, calm and confident. That was him. He hoped there was no nasty stains on the wall that he would clean off with his back, and they would both walk around all night thinking the other had odour problems. That wouldn't happen. He leaned. Satisified with hid decision he watched the people walking past. It was still relatively early and people were rushing down the street still on their way home from work. Like it was the most important thing. He spotted her. Walking in a trance down the street. He wasn't worried, she always looked like that. He went to smile at her, but he realised she hadn't spotted him yet. He took this opportunity to take a good look at her. She was pretty. Cute even. It was the eyes. He would never say that to her though. Everytime he looked into those eyes, he wished he had the key to unlock everything that was going on behind them. He knew there was greatness there. He'd seen it. He also knew it would take alot of work. He looked away not wanting her to think he was too eager.
When she walked up and stuck out her hand, he wanted to laugh at her. He didn't though. This was not the best time to laugh. If anything that would be something they could laugh at together at a later date. He wanted to get her in a big hug. Make her comfortable. He couldn't do that. So instead he smiled at her and took her hand gentley in his. She had a tight grip. He liked that. They both stood awkwardly for a second. It was obvious to anyone passing by this was the first date. Some smiled knowingly. They decided to walk a little, to get a feel for each other, before deciding what to do. They walked side by side. He wondered if he should hold her hand. He wanted too. Their hands kept brushing each others as they walked. It would feel so natural to just hold her tiny hand in his. Make sure she was safe. He slowed down. At this rate she would be running beside him and that would be no good for either of them. She was obviously wearing uncomfortable shoes because she was limping slightly. He always wondered why girls did that, bought the most uncomfortable shoes in the place, just to look good. Men didn't notice how nice the shoes are, they just wonder why you're walking strange. You always think, they never walked like that when I asked her out. What happened? His first objective was to make her laugh. Conversation was easy enough, and laughter followed smoothly. They walked and talked. This was going too well. He knew that. He wanted to crawl in her head. See what she was thinking. She looked interested, but was she? She looked like she was having fun, but was she? She kept tugging at her top. It would slip ever so slightly off her shoulder, and she would tug it up. He wanted to tell her a little bit of shoulder was good. She wasn't comfortable though. She was smiling. Them eyes were telling another tale though. They were darting around the place. Looking for the nearest exit maybe? Was he talking too much? That was one of his biggest downfalls, dominating conversations. He decided to keep quiet for a while. Let her find her place in the conversation. So they walked in silence. Only communicating when they reached a restaurant they were both happy with. They went in and sat down. He quite liked the silence. He would also have quite liked to break it though too.
What was going on? What was wrong? Why was he looking at her like that? Did she have to say something? It was going so well. Had he ran out of things to say to her? He was maintaining eye contact. Almost challenging her to say something with them cheeky twinkling eyes. She couldn't think though. Every conversation she had ever had, ran through her head. What did they have in common? What could she say that would make him think, wow she is amazing? She quickly glanced around the room, jealous of the couples who were lost in conversation, so at ease with each others company. She wanted that. She eventually broke the silence. She didn't say anything thought inspiring, no matter how badly she wanted too. He looked relieved and quickly took his place as leader of the conversation. He never looked away from her. Always looking in her eyes. This would usually make her nervous, but somehow she was lost in his eyes. Like there was only them in the room. She hadn't really wanted to go to a restaurant, but there was a limit to what you could do on a first date. First dates were a nightmare in every sense of the word. Everything had good and bad points. Food was good, except him watching you eat wasn't so good. The cinema was good, except you went home knowing less about the person than when you agreed to go on a date with them. Drinking was good, drinking was very good, but it could also lead to very bad places. She would have to live with eating in front of him, and remember her table manners. You must eat in a very dainty ladylike fashion. Remember that! Conversation was stopping and starting. There were patches where they both forgot this was a date and they reverted to how things were before, without the added tension. Then it would all come crashing home, and an awkward silence would occur. This was making it difficult to rate this as a date. Just how did friends become love interests? Why did nothing ever happen like it did in the movies? If this was a movie everything would be so much better. They sat and chatted after they'd finished eating. Both feeling more at ease in each others company as time went on. She wondered if he liked her. She had wondered this from the second she had stuck her hand in his face. She hadn't decided. She would like to know.
Time flew by. That's always a good sign. They walked to his car. She had told him in her best feminist voice she was perfectly capable of getting home herself, but he wouldn't of hear of it. She was secretly pleased he was taking her home. The drive was nice and easy, they talked some more, laughed some more. They stopped at the front of her house. She turned and looked at him. He looked at her. That gaze was heart stopping. She leaned forward slightly, he looked at her for a second longer. Then he stuck his hand in her face and told her he'd had a nice time. She was taken aback for a second. She quickly gathered her composure, and took his hand. Then she half ran, half fell out of the car.
He shook my hand.
I shook her hand. Why did I do that. Her grasp wasn't as strong that time.
Why did he do that?
She'll never agree to a second date.
He doesn't like me.