Last updated on September 25th, 2024 at 05:26 pm
I toss restlessly on my bed. It’s 8 am and I have no plans to get up let alone do anything. It’s Friday and the week has been busy as we continued with the case from last week. Having made significant progress, I decided to take today off—I can afford to work a bit from home. I already went to the gym and had a little snack so I’m supposed to be okay, only that I’m not.
I check my period app and I’m still good for a while—I just began my luteal phase, which means I already ovulated. I scroll through my phone again, and there’s nothing new considering that I only went through Instagram three minutes ago. I breathe through my nose and exhale through my mouth. Staying in bed for hours isn’t usually an issue for me.
I open my meditation app and play a ten-minute meditation. As expected, the events from the week begin to float in my mind, starting from Sunday night; saying good night to my colleagues and clients, driving to the eatery, ordering my food, seeing someone on my spot, black piercing eyes, easy smile, big hands holding mine, true concern in his eyes.
Remember to take this feeling of balance with you throughout the day. Have a nice day. My meditation app says, ending the ten-minute session.
I spent the whole meditation thinking of him. I can’t bring myself to say that I’ve been thinking of him all week: in the traffic, at work, in the gym. I should share this with my girls but they’ll be on me as if I’ve picked a wedding date. Not that I am thinking of a wedding or even ready to date. Yet.
—
It’s Sunday and I consider going to another eatery. Apart from the distance factor, a part of me, a teeny weeny part wants to see him. It actually makes me excited. Slightly. Plus, I won’t be bullied into changing my routine. It’s only 1 pm and I look forward to my not-so-solo date in the evening. I busy myself with work instead.
—
I carefully park between two cars at the eatery and grab my bag as I open the door. I’m wearing another floral-patterned gown that sits many inches above my knee and a pair of flats. I’ve also put a little effort into my makeup. I simply wanted to feel good, I didn’t do it for any other reason.
I greet the security man at the entrance and go to the fruit stand but not without a quick scan of the eatery, particularly our spot. My spot rather. My spot! My stomach sinks as I see no traces of Mr Luke. Well, usually, he comes after me. I plaster a smile on my face and say hi to the lady behind the stand.
I’m not sure Aiden is coming tonight. I hope he’s okay. Was I too harsh? I think. I’m done eating but I find it hard to admit that I feel a little down and probably disappointed at his absence. I bring out my journal and start to write. I guess that ends the phase with Mr. Luke. I close my journal after some minutes and move my fruit juice close to my mouth. For some reason, I don’t enjoy this solo date as much. I look around again, maybe he’s changed his spot since I complained last week. Nothing.
I check the clock and it’s almost time for me to leave. I start to pack my things when I see him. He’s wearing a short-sleeved vintage shirt and a pair of shorts, his necklace peeking through the opening at his collar. He has a very charming look but still manages to be very approachable and unintimidating just the way his calm demeanor exists with his boldness. Almost assertive in a sweet, concerned way. Whew! I want to write a poem about this man even though I know nothing about writing art.
I pack my things, but I don’t get up. I pull my drink from the straw. I still have some minutes anyway. I’m about to worry that he’s going to sit somewhere else since he didn’t even look to my side when he came in when he comes towards me. My heart does a happy dance but I sit straight instead. Have I mentioned that men with strong legs do it for me? I stare at his legs as he walks to… my table.
“Why can’t you sit elsewhere?” I gesture at the empty tables around me. Way to go, Ibk.
“Good evening, gorgeous. Looking beautiful as always,” he says, running his eyes down the length of my body even though the table is blocking the view from my waist downwards. I shift a bit under his scrutiny. He smiles and I see more in his eyes. Appreciation?
“You have five minutes, Aiden.” Why I say this I’m unsure. Five minutes of what exactly? Well, It’s about five minutes to the end of my solo date.
“She knows my name. We’re getting somewhere.” He folds himself into the chair opposite me and our knees graze each other. I shift backward in my chair when I see that he doesn’t intend to adjust. It’s almost on the tip of my mouth to ask why he came late. As if this was a date.
“Tell me one thing about you.” He says.
“Really?”
“It’s my five minutes. I’m listening.”
“You’re not going to ask for my name?” More like, you’re not going to start with why you came late?
“I know your name.” Why am I not surprised?
“Ok,” I decide to reply. “I hate the gym but I go four times every week.” He somehow finds this funny and starts laughing hard.
“If you don’t like the gym, why do you keep going?” He eventually asks.
“Well, I’m a foodie. I need to burn calories.”
“Hmm. As predicted.”
“What do you mean?” I try to feign annoyance.
“I mean, we’re here, gorgeous. Every Sunday night, we’re here together.” I’m not going to think about how good I feel hearing him say ‘together.’
“And so? Am I overweight?”
“Naa. Actually, looking at you, one can’t tell you’re a foodie. You look pretty… trim.”
“Ha. I doubt you’ve learnt to be sensitive when you talk about women’s bodies and weight.”
“I’m capable of apologising if I overstep, but I get a sense that the woman I’m talking to doesn’t mind. With her banging body, she probably has nothing to worry about.” Actually, I don’t have the standard ‘banging’ body. My legs are long, extra long, leaving me with a short torso. I wear a ‘b’ cup bra and have the slightest curves, nothing extra. But I also enjoy dressing my simple figure.
“You could try other forms of exercise that you enjoy and achieve your goal, you know?” He smiles. I never considered that. I want this date, sorry, this conversation to continue but I have to go home. I dislike being out too late at night. Being a woman, security concerns, night driving, and all that.
“Your time is up!” I get up, slowly.
“Ouch!” And I smile. His reaction unexpectedly delights me.
…
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