I think part of the fun is that I'm writing it in first person. I get to be someone else, just for a few minutes a day. It's almost like literary acting. And the story is turning into a very sweet little tale, so far. I hope you're all enjoying it.
My First Kiss
Even as I stood in front of my closet, I knew it wasn't normal. Or maybe it is. I don't really know what that word entails. Do regular guys fret about what outfit they're going to wear on a big date? Do they go through ensemble after ensemble, trying to get it just...perfect?
I did. And I still do. I just can't help it. I mean, it's important, right? I don't mean to be shallow or anything, but I care about the way I look. Maybe it's because I'm insecure about my body or something. I can't control its size or shape. But I can control whether or not my outfit is color coordinated. I can dictate my style. They say the clothes make the man, right?
And so, I was absolutely exasperated. I wanted so badly to impress Amy, even though I knew I was so unimpressive that I felt almost invisible. The only thing keeping me afloat was the fact that she had asked me out. She wanted me. And that was enough.
But there was still the outfit to worry about. I've chronicled my social woes, so I don't think it'll come as a surprise that I simply didn't know what to wear. Did I go with something casual like jeans and a tee-shirt? Or should I wear slacks and a button-down shirt?
We were just going to a movie. Surely, that didn't call for my Sunday best, did it? Casual. I had to seem like dating wasn't so new to me, lest Amy know just how excited I was, how much I liked her. That would have been an absolute disaster, if she had known.
It's funny, isn't it? The more we like someone, the more we want to hide it. Is that normal? Even as screwed up as I am, I know that, normal or not, it isn't healthy. But who can help it? We all want to be so cool. We can't imagine that simply being honest would get us to our destinations far more quickly than dancing around the subject.
But I'm going off the rails, here. That's not the story I'm trying to tell. Back to the date.
i settled on some slacks and a polo shirt. As I looked in the mirror, I realized (not for the first time) just how pretty I was. There wasn't a hint of masculinity in my cherubic face. Not handsome. Pretty. Plump lips, button nose, wide eyes, smooth cheeks...no, I'd never be called rugged. But maybe rugged wasn't Amy's cup of tea. Maybe she liked pretty boys.
The doorbell rang, and my heart jumped into my throat. I heard Amy's voice downstairs, and I swallowed hard. I felt cornered. What if she didn't really like me? What if it was some sort of joke? Doubts danced in my head. I wanted to go downstairs, but my feet just wouldn't move. I don't know how long I stood there.
"Are you coming, or are you just going to stand there looking all cute?" I heard Amy say. I turned, and all of my doubts vanished.
She has that effect on me, I guess. It's something about her confidence and the way she looks at me. I always feel so...safe with her. Not physically. Emotionally.
From there, the date was a bit of a blur. Nervousness, warm, fuzzy feelings, and awkward attempts at wit all blended together to culminate in the feel of her soft lips on mine.
She held me so tightly. My head tilted back (she's so much bigger than me), and i felt her hand on the small of my back. With my eyes closed, I lost myself in her embrace. I wanted it to last forever.
But, like all things, it had to end. When we finally separated, I was slightly short of breath. I smiled shyly at her.
"I had a good time," I managed to say.
"Me too," she answered with a smile. "Can I see you again?" I could only nod. She liked me. She really liked me! "I'll call you," she said. Amy leaned in, and kissed me again.
I opened the door, and stepped inside. As I closed it, I leaned back, closed my eyes, and grinned from ear to ear.
She wanted to see me again!
I did. And I still do. I just can't help it. I mean, it's important, right? I don't mean to be shallow or anything, but I care about the way I look. Maybe it's because I'm insecure about my body or something. I can't control its size or shape. But I can control whether or not my outfit is color coordinated. I can dictate my style. They say the clothes make the man, right?
And so, I was absolutely exasperated. I wanted so badly to impress Amy, even though I knew I was so unimpressive that I felt almost invisible. The only thing keeping me afloat was the fact that she had asked me out. She wanted me. And that was enough.
But there was still the outfit to worry about. I've chronicled my social woes, so I don't think it'll come as a surprise that I simply didn't know what to wear. Did I go with something casual like jeans and a tee-shirt? Or should I wear slacks and a button-down shirt?
We were just going to a movie. Surely, that didn't call for my Sunday best, did it? Casual. I had to seem like dating wasn't so new to me, lest Amy know just how excited I was, how much I liked her. That would have been an absolute disaster, if she had known.
It's funny, isn't it? The more we like someone, the more we want to hide it. Is that normal? Even as screwed up as I am, I know that, normal or not, it isn't healthy. But who can help it? We all want to be so cool. We can't imagine that simply being honest would get us to our destinations far more quickly than dancing around the subject.
But I'm going off the rails, here. That's not the story I'm trying to tell. Back to the date.
i settled on some slacks and a polo shirt. As I looked in the mirror, I realized (not for the first time) just how pretty I was. There wasn't a hint of masculinity in my cherubic face. Not handsome. Pretty. Plump lips, button nose, wide eyes, smooth cheeks...no, I'd never be called rugged. But maybe rugged wasn't Amy's cup of tea. Maybe she liked pretty boys.
The doorbell rang, and my heart jumped into my throat. I heard Amy's voice downstairs, and I swallowed hard. I felt cornered. What if she didn't really like me? What if it was some sort of joke? Doubts danced in my head. I wanted to go downstairs, but my feet just wouldn't move. I don't know how long I stood there.
"Are you coming, or are you just going to stand there looking all cute?" I heard Amy say. I turned, and all of my doubts vanished.
She has that effect on me, I guess. It's something about her confidence and the way she looks at me. I always feel so...safe with her. Not physically. Emotionally.
From there, the date was a bit of a blur. Nervousness, warm, fuzzy feelings, and awkward attempts at wit all blended together to culminate in the feel of her soft lips on mine.
She held me so tightly. My head tilted back (she's so much bigger than me), and i felt her hand on the small of my back. With my eyes closed, I lost myself in her embrace. I wanted it to last forever.
But, like all things, it had to end. When we finally separated, I was slightly short of breath. I smiled shyly at her.
"I had a good time," I managed to say.
"Me too," she answered with a smile. "Can I see you again?" I could only nod. She liked me. She really liked me! "I'll call you," she said. Amy leaned in, and kissed me again.
I opened the door, and stepped inside. As I closed it, I leaned back, closed my eyes, and grinned from ear to ear.
She wanted to see me again!
Post a Comment