24 August 2012
The doomed first date is one where you expect too much.
I don't know about you, but all my life I've been someone who dreamt about romance in the most unrealistic way. In that way, I guess I've sort of been trained to be more of a realist, because dreams like that are just that. Dreams.
I'm going on my first date ever with this guy who I shall now call Flynn. The thing is, it's also going to be my first ever date. As in ever.
And I'm pretty nervous about it because I have absolutely no clue what I'm supposed to do. Some of my friends say that I should 'play the game' longer, but I don't even know what the rules of the game is, let alone how to actually play it well.
Besides, love is not a game, no matter how much Lady Gaga might sing about it being so.
Love is a feeling, a choice, an action.
I guess in this way I am still that idealistic, bright-eyed, innocent 12 year old kid who believes firmly in romance.
But there's this other side of me, the more cynical side, the one that tells me that this guy is probably just playing with my heart.
And if I'm not careful, he might let it slip through his fingers. Scratch that. If I'm not careful, he might crush it.
So I'm guarded. Fiercely guarded and protective. I built a wall around my heart. It may not be made of titanium, but at the very least it can last me through tomorrow.
I'm not like Flynn. I don't club. I don't smoke. I like the softness of the mornings, he prefers the shadows of the night.
Before this, I didn't think I would agree to go out with someone so different.
But perhaps, if I'm being truly honest with myself, that is why I agreed to go out with him. Because I'm curious. Why would someone like him even ask me out? And why did I say yes despite my unyielding stance that I needed to date a Christian? What is that force that brought that down?
Was it really to give him a chance, to love everyone as Jesus would? Or was it sparked off by my own insecurities and inhibitions?
I am not like his usual crowd of friends. I can hardly call myself a creature of the night. Parties give me a headache. Dancing makes my heart ache. (No really. I get really tired and would rather go to a lounge or bar than a club because of my heart.)
Maybe I'm just impressed that he actually called.
We'll see how this goes.
(For once in about 2 or 3 years, words are flowing coherently from my mind to my fingers. I might be starting to regain the skill of free writing. This makes me unbelievably happy.)
The Doomed First Date • Opuss № I