Small update:
Added 2019-05-14 03:33:37 +0000 UTCI went on a date. I think. (It’s so hard to tell with queer girls sometimes!!!)
Our park plans got rained out, so she suggested tea and coffee at a cute little place.
I arrived early so I wouldn’t be frazzled, I was happy with my outfit, (which is a big deal because she’s a tailor by trade and she’s soooooo stylish it kills me). I thought I looked cute, which I’ve been struggling with lately. I scoped out a good spot by the front window, away from the other coffee-shop dwellers. I felt confident and collected.
And then she walked in.
And I immediately turned pink from head to toe and started sweating the moment she looked at me. Blushing like my heart was on fire. Suddenly this very adorable leather jacket with floral embroidery was THE WORST CHOICE and I stripped it off, and conducted the entire date in a black tank top while sweating so hard my mascara ran. So much for style.
I’m just. Really bad at this.
And SHE. She’s just so. Lovely.
I’m fascinated by her. She’s talented, perceptive, well spoken... her eyeliner was literal art, like a bird’s plumage or a fucking design thesis... and the time flew by. I still have a hundred things I wish I’d asked. But it was nice. And I’d like to see her again.
I just keep hesitating. I’ve been let down a lot lately, and I feel protective of myself. It’s hard to open back up and start from the beginning in these vulnerable ways. I’m not sure if I’m ready to do that.
I’m proud of myself for entertaining the idea either way. And she doesn’t seem to be in a rush, so I don’t have to rush myself either. A sweaty date was a good first step I guess.
