January 16 2022: The Unbearable Lightness of Being, Part 1
Today is Sunday.
Yesterday, I met up with Clyde (also known as Discord guy.)
I didn't write about it last night because afterward I felt... weird.
Not sad. Not happy.
Just floating around like an untethered balloon.
My cousin Cas had a word for it.
The Unbearable Lightness of Being.
Naturally, that did not make me feel more grounded.
But first.
What actually happened.
We'd been talking for months. Long enough to feel familiar, short enough to still feel fictional. Online conversations have that effect on me, intimacy without consequences. I could be honest without ever having to run into him at the supermarket.
Which was great.
Because I absolutely would not know where to put my face if that happened.
Conversation came easily. He was smooth. Charismatic. Slightly annoying in a confident-American-way. And, unfortunately, very attractive.
Against my better judgment, I let myself be vulnerable. I talked about love, about ambition, about the vague feeling that I was always a little behind on life. It felt therapeutic. Safe. Temporary.
So when he suggested we "chill," I pretended to be casual about it.
"I'm visiting my cousin in the city this weekend lol."
Reader: I had already emotionally committed.
We met Saturday afternoon.
Plot twist: it started snowing.
Of course it did.
There I was, with my carefully styled curls, being personally attacked by wet snowflakes. Amazing. I stared intensely at the pavement, partly to protect my eyes, partly to avoid thinking thoughts like what if he thinks this is a date.
Because it wasn't.
Right?
It couldn't be.
I was so busy spiraling that I didn't notice him walking toward me until he called my name.
My body reacted before my brain did.
Oh.
He was handsome.
Annoyingly so.
I immediately forgot how flirting worked. Or eye contact. Or walking like a normal person. We started talking and walking at the same time, no awkward pause, which felt like a small miracle.
We walked for an hour. In the snow. Cold, but somehow perfect. Romantic in a way that felt accidental, which is always the best kind.
I barely looked at him. I talked too fast. I laughed at things that weren't jokes.
We found a bench near a small petting zoo. Rabbits. Sheep. A suspiciously romantic setting.
That's when he switched to Dutch.
I am weak.
An American with a Spanish accent speaking slightly imperfect Dutch is, unfortunately, devastating. He teased me constantly. Soft. Playful. Dangerous.
At some point, he put his arm around me.
My response?
"Watcha doin'?"
YOU ARE READING
January 16th 2022: The unbearable lightness of being
Short StoryA walk in the snow that wasn't supposed to be a date. Flirting, overthinking, mixed signals, and the kind of lightness you only feel after something almost happens. Told in two parts. Inspired by true events.
