Damaged

For the first time she looked across the table and saw someone staring at her like she was crazy and she felt it might be warranted.

She looked at the strange man across from her. He was well dressed, well groomed, and hadn't a wedding ring, a good sign considering her last few dates. In fact, he wasn't wearing any jewelry at all which she appreciated. His dark suit brought out the light in his eyes. His dark hair nice and short, but obviously thick and curly.

The silence had been hanging between them for an awkward amount of time and she felt it necessary to break it. He was currently wearing an awkward smile, his eyes urging her to speak, announcing the fact that he had no clue what do say or how to respond.

The conflicting emotions of letting all of her stress out and wanted to defend herself brewed within her, the conflict halting any sounds from actually coming out. He finally just laughed uncomfortably.

"Whoa!" he finally said.

"You asked!" she blurted, her defenses finally making an appearance. He laughed again, looking away. She could tell he didn't want to be rude.

"Most people answer differently," he hesitated. "Most people say... creative, or... ambitious, or... I don't know. Something..."

"Something more positive?"she asked. He shrugged and nodded. "That's because most people are full of shit!"

"Ok..." He laughed again. He had a nice smile.

"Look," she started. "I've been on too many of these dates and they all start on bullshit. And then if it progresses, it's about trying to keep the bullshit going for as long as possible. Until the layers start falling, or being pulled back, and you see the raw and real, and then," she hit the table, "you run screaming." She was amazed to see he was actually listening to her. His eyes were watching her face, her lips, following her hand movements. And when she was brave enough to look at him, she'd find his eyes looking directly into hers. It made her nervous and she didn't like it, so she looked away.

Who is this guy, she wondered. Could he actually be different from all the other douche bags she'd met in the last year or so? Could he actually be listening? Could he carry a real conversation? Did he actually care? She caught his eyes again and they simply stared at one another. Suddenly, a loud bang sounded from the kitchen behind him and he turned to look toward it. Upon breaking eye contact, what confidence began to form quickly disappeared. This guy is just like the others, she told herself. He was going to love her as he wanted to see her for however long she could play the role. And when reality set in, or something would trigger or force her to show her raw self, he'd run.

"You could've just said honest," he suddenly said. "Or real. I just think that word kind of throws people off."

"So you'd rather I tell you I'm real and honest than actually be real and honest?" She waited for him to answer. She watched as he searched his mind for a response and nothing came. He finally shrugged and laughed his uncomfortable laugh again.

She smiled at him, took the final sip of her drink and grabbed her purse. "Well," she began. "It's been real." She joked and he smiled. "But I don't think this is going to be anything at anytime. You seem really nice. It's not you, it's me, and all that jazz." She stood and looked him over again. When her eyes fell on his face, he looked shocked. She almost laughed. She wanted to. She wanted to say fuck it and order another drink. She also wanted to take back the last hour where she'd verbal diarrhea-ed all over him about how she was so screwed up. All it had taken was one word. Just one. And that's all he'd asked for; one word to describe herself. Funny how life works out, she thought. She wanted to say something, but couldn't think of anything and so turned to go. He slowly stood, so she hesitated a moment longer.

"Take care," he said, and she could see that he meant it.

"You too," and she left.

He watched her leave an couldn't discern what he was feeling. What a strange date it had been. He grabbed his wallet, left money on the table and turned to leave.

The night air was crisp and fresh when it hit his face. He reflected on their conversation and realized, it had been refreshing to have heard such honesty, even if it was kind of scary.

Ⓒ January 2020. Beki Lantos. All Rights Reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, or transmitted in any form by any means without prior written permission of the author.