you have skin the colour of an orange peel (your words), wear your hair slicked back, sometimes rock suspenders and even though you say they're ridiculous i know you enjoy them, and resemble scott disick quite well.
but you're not a douchebag.
i was to meet you at a billiards hall on 21st at 8 o'clock. you were 20 minutes late.
but you're not a douchebag.
i was there five minutes early, because if there was a bouncer i wanted to talk to him, to make sure he'd let me in and oh it's so difficult not being 21 in the city. especially when the man you are going out with is 24, or 24 or 23 or 27 or 27 or 28 or who knows how old, but still older than, maybe too old, for me.
i walked downstairs, thinking i'd wait in there but it was only a bar and some pool tables. there was no bouncer. i could not sit at the bar, i'm not 21. i could order a drink but i look 18, i look 16, maybe they'd ask to see my id. i could not provide my id and they'd find a bouncer, and he'd kick me out. the date would be over. i would be embarrassed. so i waited outside.
i was on my phone, pretending to text, playing top girl and social girl and oh by the way i had already named my fake boyfriend after you, then i realised i looked even more lame standing outside waiting just looking at my phone. so i called logan back.
perhaps two weeks ago, a friday afternoon or maybe it was a saturday, my hair had been perfect and i had gone to washington square to read. i sat in the fountain, on the side that no one was occupying because the other sides were too full. no one bothered to tell me that this side was empty because when the wind came it sprayed this direction. i got soaking wet and my perfect hair was ruined.
i retired to a bench in the sun, i was cold, i was soaking wet. i dried.
i was reading anna karenina and he came and sat adjacent to me, i could see he was coming to sit adjacent to me, with his reflective sunglasses and short legs and dark hair that was slicked to the side but not in a fashionable way. he was not fashionable and he said, "i'm sorry, you must get this a lot, but you're absolutely gorgeous."
we talked about politics and 9/11 and anna karenina and lord of the rings and then he asked me to dinner. we exchanged numbers. he called me to ask about dinner the night before i was to meet you, but i had been busy with some ghosts, so i didn't pick up.
he wanted to take me on a real date, not to billiards, but to dinner, he asked what sort of food i liked, he had a few places in mind, he asked if i liked japanese i said yes but i just had japanese the other day, he said you know we are talking about tuesday right, i was taken aback because if i said i didn't want japanese again he should have complied but i said yes that's right i suppose japanese is alright. he said he wanted to take me out for drinks or dancing afterwards, that he knew bouncers at a few places so they would never dream of carding me, which would be nice but i do not like him. if only i liked him. we hung up the phone before you arrived, so i called bri. i was a few minutes into my phone call with bri when you showed up.
do i like you? you are tall dark and handsome, by every word, every connotation, every aspect. you are 6'1, you wore a gray and white pinstriped suit, god i was hoping to catch you in your suit, you wore a white button-up and a burgundy tie with black paisley and a brown leather belt and a steel gray large-faced watch and brown leather cap toes and god i must have gotten wet when i saw you walk up from the corner of my eye. you were everything i imagined and more.
i was on the phone feigning aloofness, telling bri i had to go because i was meeting someone, she was confused, you said "nikita!" though i had already turned my body to you, i smiled and held up my finger. one moment. "i have to go, i'm meeting someone." bri was still confused but i said goodbye and hung up. i turned and smiled at you. "it's great to see you - i'm sorry i'm late, i was at happy hour and lost track of time and i'm a little hammered."
i didn't sigh even though i knew this was inappropriate of you. this is how adults are, correct? sometimes they run late. they always drink.
it's fine, i assured you, and we walked in together, me in my littleblackdress and you in your suit. we must have looked gorgeous with one another. the girls at the counter must have hated me when i returned with you, and they offered me our table, and i smiled and you asked "what did they say?" perhaps nervous that i wouldn't be allowed to stay because it was a bar, i was nervous too, but i had hid it well. i was not nervous anymore. i was calm, i knew i looked beautiful. and everything was working in my favour.
a man on the street on my way had said, "hey, you sexy. say thank you." i laughed and said thank you.
i thanked him for easing my nerves. i had bounced out of my room giddily as i left to meet you, half an hour early. you were twenty minutes late.
you ordered gin or something, a gentleman's drink, it was short and brown. i ordered water. you wanted to know if i was sure that i didn't want a drink, i was sure. you knew you should stop drinking because you were already nearly drunk. you didn't. you slowed down, though, when i started kicking your ass. we flirted with one another, stood close, touched, high fived, smiled largely and often times when our eyes met we would just laugh for no particular reason. we had chemistry that i haven't felt often. there were many times i wanted to kiss you, for you to kiss me, that you didn't. was i right not to kiss you?
do you want to kiss me now? do you wonder if i should have?
you had taken off your suit jacket and tie and rolled up your sleeves the moment we began. you called me an asshole when i started to beat you, i was taken aback, it wasn't gentlemanly. you're not quite a gentleman. but i am tired of those? or do i just not care because you're talldarkandhandsome? if we hadn't had chemistry i would have cared. maybe it was just the alcohol, maybe i am making excuses for you.
the football game was on, i asked if you watched. you said no, you'd rather be out playing sports, it was too boring to watch them. i said my team was the patriots, you started to ask me how i felt about - i got nervous, i didn't know who they started or stopped this year. but you didn't know either, so you defaulted, made up a record for them that showed you don't know they're the best team in the league. 0-2? you asked. 1-1, i defended. oh. new topic.
a midget man came and told you you had scratched, and that meant i won, and you called him an asshole too. i laughed. i'm sure i've figured out why your ex-girlfriend sliced the entire length of your forearm in the middle of the night.
you had made it apparent that i was the only woman in the hall. we found a hipster, i thought he was wearing pink pants but it was just the red carpet reflecting from his khakis. you pretended with me that they were pink, maybe because you were drunk, maybe because it was easier to make fun of him that they were pink, maybe because you chose to ignore my error out of benevolence, either way i was charmed.
we talked about his beard. "it's not real," you said. "but it is organic." i quipped, and i was proud of your laugh.
when we left i wish you were aware of all of the men who stared longingly after me, but you were too busy on your phone to notice. i should have walked in front of you, but then i may have been to the counter first and awkwardly had to pay. you gave your credit card - i asked if you'd like to split it? it was genuine, my eyes asked too, and you looked into them and told me no without smiling. "i'd feel bad making you pay after i kicked your ass," you said. "you didn't kick my ass."
we walked outside and you said you were looking forward to the dinner i'd have to make you soon. you suggested that maybe i take a cooking class with you instead - my heart melts now when i think of that. that is a real date. you'd like to see me again, though i am younger than you by 6 years, though i am not even 21. it was 1030 when we parted, you did not offer to walk me home. it was only 7 blocks. you said you were catching a cab. i thought this meant you were uninterested, and i figured it made sense. chemistry or not, i am young, i was not drop-dead stunning, we had fun but isn't it easy to have fun? our last bit of conversation was that i had class in the morning, which i
would not have been surprised if it scared you. i should avoid talking
about class, shouldn't i? i should pretend that i am not a student, not
so young, though we both know i am and where could this possibly be
going? you hugged me quickly, no kiss, no mention of one. i sighed on my walk and figured i would not see you again. and i was alright with that.
i thought for a few moments that perhaps i'd text you in the morning to let you know i had fun last night, to advise you to have a good weekend. i thought for a few moments that i shouldn't text you at all, because you admitted to being hammered when you showed up 20 minutes late and didn't walk me home.
but you're not a douchebag.
half an hour after i was in bed you thanked me for coming out and that you had fun. i was not expecting that. that is what someone does when the date goes well. it went well, but i was surprised. maybe it was a buffer - so that in case you should get lonely and like to see me again, you'd have the option. i hadn't flirted with you overtly, hadn't shown many signs of interest or attraction though we knew they were there. maybe you enjoyed that.
i told you i'd look forward to seeing you again soon. you asked me to let you know when you could expect the dinner i'll have to cook for you. if you can expect that, i'm not sure. i'll keep thinking of reasons why this may work, or not waste my time or break my heart more than it needs to. if you ask me again of course i'll give in. if you don't ask me again, will i?