Monday, July 20, 2009

a short story...

I sat on the train thinking about it way too much. I poured over every converstaion, every text message and everything in between. We all know how it is. The anxiety and anticipation flowered like milk in black coffee and clung to me like a wet towel. The 'what ifs' and expectations eeked through my conscience like oil. Was this date really a good idea? We were completely different people. We literally did not speak the same language, but did that matter? I didn't think so at the time. It's wonderful how hindsight changes everything. We came from different cultures, different worlds even. Like everyone else I tore this issue into proverbial shreds with my friends. We analysed every possible scenario, angle and detail. With his tongue in his cheek; a friend of mine reminded me that it had been a while since my horizons had last been widened, so to speak. As much as I hated to admit it, he had a point. My reluctance and apprehension quickly evaporated when I thought of Mr A, devilishly handsome and oh so charming as he was.

To be fair I had to give it a shot. On the bright side neither of us would ever have to explain or endure any of those excruciatingly awkward silences. That was the moment when I concluded that the pursuit of modern romance, is to flirt with disaster. It was a cool breezy Brisbane night and it seemed like nothing could possibly go wrong. That was until I locked my keys in my car and had a couple of near misses on my way home. I couldn't say whether it was my driving or my luck. In all honesty it oucld have been either. By the time I got there I barely had enough time to get myself date-ready.

After what felt like a thousand and one styling attempts I decided that hair down was the best way to go, and that the uncomfortable shoes with the fiddly straps would have the most appealing effect. Butterflies and ferrets flitted about my insides like children on crack. I looked at myself in the mirror and said to no one, 'This is as good as it's going to get'.

He parked outside and honked twice. Really? I thought. Is chivalry really dead? He can wait till I'm ready or he can come to the door. After an entire week of fantasising, anticipation and scrutiny, it was finally Date Night. And he was Honking at me? Was there a bumper sticker on my forehead that no one told me about?

When he came to the door it was about six o'clock. Mr A was in fine form with his button-up shirt in my absolute favourite colour, and the sleeves rolled halfway up his arms. It was that troublemaker smile plastered on his face that threw me, it was enough to heat my blood to a gentle simmer.

We walked over to his very shiny car. It was just as we were about to slide in, that the shoes which had my legs looking like they went for days, slid out from underneath me and had me land sheepishly on my derriere. It was definitely one of those days. Utterly embarassed at the way my arms and legs flailed like spastic pool noodles on my way down to meet the sidewalk, I gnawed on my lower lip as I slid inside. In a moment of perfect clarity I childishly I thought to myself, Why do I have to be such a butthead.

The car smelled like his expensive aftershave with the brand name I would never be able to afford. We went for a drive along the river and I laughed as he tried to translate his Turkish tunes into some semblance of speech that I would understand. In our own broken language that sounded almost like English we talked about where we came from and the things that mattered most to us.

I found that we had less in common than I had originally thought. He was a worldly businessman with a love for techy-house music, while I am an aspiring music journalist with barely two cents to rub together. What a couple! Everyone will say. I jeered at myself. I recall wondering whether I could be with someone who didn't like rock music. Despite the lack of common ground between us and the obvious language gap, we got along like two bananas in a very excitable blender.

It was at this point that I reconsidered and asked myself why I had been so worried in the first place. To my surprise our destination was not a ritzy restaurant or a cocktail bar, but rather the local ice-creamery not a stone's throw away from where I work. We shared a kiddy cup size ice-cream, he let me choose the flavours. Over the deliciously decadent ice-cream we talked even more and quickly reached the point where we could sit in silence comfortably, sporadically smiling and marvelling at ourselves and each other. Even with all the misunderstood understandings and the crossed wires and lines, the words cheesy and chemistry came to mind. I found it hard to believe that Mr A, the dream guy by all accounts, was unattached and crazy enough to find a geek like me interesting. It was not long afterwards that we made a move for the cinemas. I stood in front of the ticketbox silently hoping he would not opt for the chick-flick, I desperately hate chick-flicks.

We wound up watching the latest Jim Carrey, after all you cannot possibly go wrong with a good comedy. Then I found myself hoping that I wouldn't laugh so uncontrollably that I'd do that awful donkey/apeish heehaw thing which rises out of me on the odd occasion. I sat there giddy and disbelieving at how well things were turning out in spite of my fanstastic acrobatic display earlier. Evident by some incessant fidgeting, I struggled with the small birds darting back and forth in my stomach.

We reached the point in the movie and the date where each of our hands were inching towards one another on the armrest. Occasionally we would catch each other's eager glances. Then just as Carrey was about to do something truly outrageous/disgusting, Mr A's phone rings. He looked at the small evil glow of the caller-id and his face fell ever so slightly. In that particular instant a strange uh-oh feeling crept up my spine, I fully realised his expression could not have meant a good thing. Slowly and carefully he stood up and as he passed me on his way to take the call, he mumbled something about his wife and a new furniture delivery...

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