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CW: Β Light angst (talk of anxiety disorders, therapy, and medication); bad first dates; two shy dummies who are destined for each other. Fluffy goodness, as one would expect with Richard.
Word Count: Β 3951
AN: Β This was requested a long time ago by @frasmotic - sorry it took a lifetime to write this!
AN2: Usual caveat - not edited in any way whatsoever.
Richard only agrees to the blind date because heβs had absolutely no luck in finding dates on his own.Β When he sits and tries to calculate the last time he went out with a woman, his mind boggles at the yearsβnot monthsβthat have passed since then.
When he tries to calculate the last time he had a bona fide girlfriend, he despairs and gives up before he comes up with the exact amount of time that has passed.
Anyway, he doesnβt require precise numbers.Β He knows how he feels:Β lonely.Β He has his dog but no one else.Β He lives alone, spends his evenings and weekends alone.Β Spends his holidays alone.Β His sole interaction with humans is from his coworkers and whatever paltry connections he can build with customer service employees.
Itβs a fellow guard, Mike, at the prison who sets up the blind date.Β Mikeβs sister-in-law is similarly shy, the same sort of introvert as Richard.
βA real nice gal, Rich,β Mike explains over lunch.Β βSmart, has a good job.Β Owns her own house.Β She just has trouble meeting a nice guy.Β Everyone on the apps are either creeps or assholes who ghost her.β
Richard would never agree to it, but then Mike slides his phone across the table to him.Β Heβs pulled up your profile on social media, and Richard studies your picture.
βSheβs pretty,β Richard admits.Β He feels a fluttery swooping in his gut at the thought of taking you out, but Mike is something of a bull in a china shop, and before Richard can even stop it, his fellow guard is setting up a double date for him and his wife, and you and Richard.
βSafety in numbers,β Mike says, and it seems that Richard has little to do other than show up and be himself.Β As if itβs that easy.
βDios,β he mutters after his lunch break ends.Β Already heβs flushing at the thought, his palms slick with sweat.
-----
The date is supposed to be low stakes:Β dinner at Mikeβs house.Β There are no public spaces to navigate, no random people to throw Richard off what little game he has.Β He turns up at Mikeβs house ten minutes early with a bottle of wine that he spent far too much time agonizing over at the store.Β In his other hand he clutches a mixed bouquet, and that took too much time to choose too.
The zenith of the date is here, on Mikeβs front porch, the few moments before he knocks.
It goes downhill from there.
*****
Your sister married an idiot, but Mike has his sweet moments.Β For example, this date he set up.Β To hear your sister tell it, it was mostly Mikeβs idea.Β
βHe worries about you,β she told you weeks ago.
You snort and shake your head, secretly pleased that your brother-in-law is so, well, brotherly to you.Β
βHeβs only worried youβll get stuck with me when Iβm old and infirm,β you replied.
βNot true.Β Besides, he said this guy, Richard?Β Said heβs nice.Β Shy, like you.Β He thinks youβll hit it off.β
You canβt quite buy into Mikeβs optimism.Β Because the guy, this Richard, barely looks at you, and he says even less.
Mike introduces you with an expectant smile.Β Richard is cute, you decide, edging against handsome.Β You offer him a smile, tell him youβre happy to meet him.Β In reply, you get the limpest handshake in the history of mankind, and then Richard winces, swipes his hand against his pants.Β
Mike frowns slightly but rebounds.Β He claps Richard on his back and tells you about how your date works in the letter room of the prison.
βTell her about it,β Mike prods gently.
βItβs not that interesting,β Richard mumbles.
Which is about all he says to you all evening.
Bless your sister and brother-in-law, though.Β They try to help Richard along.Β They do all they can to open up lines of conversation, to sing your praises to him, to sing his praises to you.Β They uncork a second bottle of wine.Β They put on some low music to fill in the awkward gaps of silence.Β
During the start of dinner, you are merely perplexed.Β Are you hideous to him?Β Do you smell abhorrent?Β Heβs not even being polite, and as the evening drags on, your confusion cedes to a low-simmering angerβwhich makes your own shyness fade.
βMore broccoli?β you ask him, and you move to hand him the dish.Β The motion makes Richard flinch way too hard, and his hand catches the edge of his wine glass.Β The deep red merlot splashes on your dress, and you slide back from the table, then stand.Β Richard doesnβt turn to look at you; he only stares at the widening stain on the tablecloth, and he hisses out a low, tortured fuck.
Your sister stands too, and she gives a polite βexcuse us, gentlemen,β then ushers you to the powder room where the two of you daub at the splash of wine.
βThis is not going well,β she finally murmurs to you.
βYou think?βΒ It comes out sarcastic, and you wince when you catch her reflection in the mirror.Β She looks apologetic.
βMike said he was awkwardβ¦βΒ She tries to explain the rude behavior away but then trails off, goes silent.
You sigh.Β You tilt your head towards the ceiling and shut your eyes for a beat.Β Another awful date, and this one had been served to you on a silver platter.Β
βItβs not Mikeβs fault,β you finally concede.Β βAnd anyway, itβs almost over.β
-----
When the two of you return to the dining room, it turns out the date is already over.Β Mike sits alone, picks at the food on his plate, and he looks at you gloomily as he announces that Richard left.
βIβm sorry,β he says.Β βI have no idea what his fucking problem was.β
You return to your seat and try to school the tears that prickle behind your eyelids.Β Are you that terrible a prospect?Β You know you arenβt some great beauty, but you have a lot going for youβ
βIβm sorry,β Mike repeats, quieter, and you glance over to see him shaking his head.Β
βItβs okay,β you reply, even though it isnβt.Β This hurts, and it draws cracks in your foundation.Β You know there will be fallout to your confidence in the days and weeks that follow.
You donβt have the heart to stay much longer, and your sister walks out with you as you climb into your car.Β You wave at her and drive off, and you are a block away when your sister turns to go back into the house.Β Something bright catches the corner of her eye, and she looks down at the ornamental shrubs that stand beside the porch.Β Tangled in the low branches is a bouquet of flowers, tossed aside.Β She bends down and scoops them up, notices that they look pretty fresh.Β She takes them inside.
βWhat you got there?β Mike asks when she joins him in the kitchen.Β Heβs scraping off plates and loading the dishwasher, and he watches as she snags a vase from the cabinet under the sink.
βFlowers.Β They were thrown in the shrubs by the porch.β
βHuh.βΒ Mike looks at them, then pulls together a theory.Β βYou think Richard brought them?β
βAnd threw them away before he even came in?βΒ She shakes her head.Β βWhy?β
*****
If Richard had enough money, heβd quit his job and move to the other side of the country.Β Hell, heβd move to the other side of the globe if he could pull it off.
Heβs never been so ashamed.Β So embarrassed.Β Mortified.Β Thereβs no adjective that can capture the depth of shame he feels at how he acted on his date.
He canβt even really explain itβthough he tries, of course, when Mike angrily corners him in the breakroom the following Monday.Β Richard tries to explain how out-of-body he felt, how the moment he knocked on Mikeβs door and heard footfalls making their way to let him in, he panicked.Β He tossed the flowers away, suddenly terrified that the cheerful blooms looked cheap in their cellophane wrapping.Β
And it only got worse from there.
He broke out in a sweat immediately.Β He felt it trickling down his temples, had to daub it away with his shirt sleeve on the sly.Β He felt his armpits growing damp, felt flushed and sickly, feverish.Β The air in the room was too warm and too heavy, like breathing through soup, and the shallow breaths he took only made the panic grow.
Then you entered the room and for heavenβs sake:Β you were pretty in the pictures Mike showed him, but you looked downright angelic in person.Β Dress lightly skimming your curves, gentle smile on your face as you looked at him expectantly.Β When you stepped closer to introduce yourself, Richard caught the scent of youβfaintly sweet, a warm smell.
How could he feel anything but shame to shake your hand with his own sweaty palm?Β You were perfect, and he felt unwieldy, monstrous beside you.
And you had tried to be kind anyway.Β Tried to converse with him, asked him questions about his life that he only grunted at.Β He asked you no questions in return, and when you tried to pass him some food, he ended up staining your beautiful dress with the wine he brought.
Of course he fled.Β Of course he spent the drive home cursing himself, cursing his stupid brain that was always so eager to flood itself with stress hormones the minute a situation got uncomfortable.
βIβm so sorry,β he tells Mike in the breakroom of the prison.Β He tries to explain it, assumes he fails like he does everything else.Β βPleaseβ¦tell her it wasnβt her fault at all.β
βOf course it wasnβt her fault!β
Richard flinches at the anger in Mikeβs voice, but then he hangs his head.Β He lets the fresh wave of misery course through him.Β βShe was too good for me anyway.βΒ It comes out a low mumble, but Mike must catch it anyway.Β The other man sighs after a long beat, then lays a heavy hand on Richardβs shoulder.
βMaybe I shouldnβt have thrown you into the lionβs den like that,β he concedes.Β βBut for fuckβs sake, man.Β You made her feel terrible.β
βI know.Β I mean, I guessed as much.β
βSo it wasnβt a love match.βΒ Mike drops his hand and sighs again.Β βBut it would help a lot to apologize to her.Β Sheβs beating herself up pretty bad.β
Richard looks up, surprised.Β βSheβd be willing to see me again?β
βDoubtful,β Mike replies with a shake of his head.
βThen howββ
βFuck, man.Β You work in the fucking letter room, right?Β So write her a letter.Β Iβll get it to her.β
*****
Youβre not overtly depressed over it.
Youβre also not okay about it.
It doesnβt help that the days are getting shorter.Β It gets dark early, so itβs easy to justify the hermit-nature youβre embracing.Β You come home from work, you walk your dog, and then you spend long hours in your pajamas watching trashy reality TV shows before you go to bed.
You sleep a lot.Β It helps with the little pit of despair your failed blind date opened up in you.Β It shook your confidence harder than you would have thought.Β Youβre generally pretty sturdy in your sense of self, but each year that passes without any success with the men erodes it more than you care to admit.
You spend the week after the failed date wallowing.Β No sense in white-knuckling through it.Β You feel bad for yourself, you go a bit maudlin, and you start to climb your way outβ¦
Then your sister stops by for a visit, and when she goes to leave, she hesitates, then reaches into her purse.
βThis is for you,β she says, but she holds it for a long moment before she hands it to you.Β Itβs a white envelope, and it bears your name across the face in unfamiliar handwriting.
She takes in your puzzled expression and clarifies.Β βItβs from Richard.β
βAh.β
βHe felt terrible, sweetie.β
βThat makes two of us, then.β
She studies you for a beat.Β βYou know, he brought you flowers, but something made him panic, I think.Β I found them tossed behind a shrub after you left.β
You furrow your brows in confusion.Β βKinda weird.β
βKinda.Β But not serial killer weird, at least.β
You smile.Β βTrue enough.βΒ You hold up the envelope.Β βAt least he didnβt ghost me.β
-----
Youβd like to say that you have a certain measure of patience, but the moment your front door clicks behind your sister, you tear that envelope open like a wild animal.Β Your curiosity allows nothing else.
Itβs a single page, but Richardβs printing is small and tight.Β You have to hold the paper closer to the light to read it.
Itβs an apology, of course.Β A genuine one that goes a long way at softening your heart to the man who had been so impolite at your date.Β Because he tries to offer an explanation tooβthe utter panic he felt, the crippling anxietyβand that softens you too.
You know about that sort of panic, that sort of anxiety.Β It used to cripple you too until intense therapy and the right combination of meds helped you tame it.Β Still, you can feel it claw at your chest sometimes, so your anger at Richard is replaced by understanding.
Also, he drops this line in the middle of his letter, and when has a man ever said (or written) something so guilelessly sweet?
I think you might not realize how beautiful you are, Richard wrote in his cramped, neat printing.Β I was already struggling to breathe from the panic, but the moment I saw you, I couldnβt breathe at all.
βRichard, you surprising son of a bitch,β you whisper aloud in your kitchen, and you reach for your phone to text your sister.
*****
Itβs grace that Richard doesnβt feel he deserves, yet Mike offers it: Β a second chance.
βItβs a big holiday party,β Mike explains when he hands Richard the invitation.Β βMy wife fucking loves all that Martha Stewart, Bing Crosby, chestnuts on an open fire bullshit.Β There will be a lot of people there, so...β
He trails off, but Richard catches his meaning.Β A lot of people will serve as cover for Richard.Β Heβll be able to melt into the crowd, peel off into another room if his anxiety threatens to choke him.
Heβs not so sure it will, though.Β In the month and a half since that terrible first impression, and since he found out his apology letter was well-received, Richard has taken control of it.Β For the first time in his life, he got angryβangry enough to make an appointment to see his doctor.Β Angry enough for a referral for a therapist.Β Angry enough to try out a low dose of anti-anxiety medication.
There was no shame in it, he had decided.Β If a person had high blood pressure, didnβt they get medicine for it?Β Richard had grown up in a home that stigmatized feelings in general, and he had always taken the βignore-it-and-itβll-go-awayβ approach to his own mental health.Β
But when Mike had told himβsecondhand, through his wifeβhow well you had responded to Richardβs letter, he felt that flush of anger.Β At himself, partially, but also at the family legacy of suffering in silence.Β Why had he suffered so long with no relief?Β Why did you offer him more kindness than he had ever offered himself?
Hence the meds.Β Hence the forty-five minutes every week where he awkwardly stammered through his overanxious thoughts, his family history, his own history.
And it seems to be working.Β The medication seems to drop a thin veil between him and his own head.Β It gives him the barest bit of a barrier, just enough protection from himself.Β The therapy gives him the tools to understand why he reacts the way he does.Β Richard comes to understand that itβs his low self-esteem that drives much of his social panic, and his therapist prescribes him a list of mantras he is to repeat to himself in the mirror each morning and night.
It embarrasses him at first.Β His reflection flushes in the mirror as he says nice things to himselfβ¦but damned if it doesnβt seem to work.
-----
Who can say why it goes better the second time around?Β Maybe itβs the meds or the therapy, or maybe itβs the barest bit of understand Richard has achieved through his letter to you.Β Maybe it a combination of all three things.Β Richard doesnβt linger over the why because the what is so much more gratifying.
What is it?Β Itβsβ¦so much better.Β Richard arrives at the perfect timeβnot too early, not too late.Β He walks through the front door, and he doesnβt toss aside the bouquet of flowers this time.Β His heart hammers in his chest, but he remembers to breathe, remembers to smile.Β He repeats his mantras in his head as he makes his way through the growing throng to find you.
I am worthy of happiness.Β I am worthy of love.Β I am open to new possibilities.
He finds you alone in the kitchen, half-bent in front of the oven and peering at whatever cooks inside it.Β Youβre just as beautiful as he remembered.Β His pulse picks up, rapid, but he swallows.Β Takes a breath.
I am worthy of happiness.Β I am worthy of love.
βHello,β he says.
You stand up and turn; at the sight of him, you smile.Β At the sight of the flowers in his handβa wintry mix of white roses and sprigs of cut pineβyour smile grows wider.
βThose would look better in a vase than tossed in the azalea out front,β you tease, but you say it gently with that smile on your face, and Richard shakes his head ruefully.
βI thought I might wait at least a few hours before I throw wine on you, too,β he jokes back.Β The joke lands because you laughβa merry sound that makes him chuckle.
You reply that you specifically wore black in case he turned up, and he chuckles at that too, but then he turns serious.Β He apologized by letter, but he knows he has to say it to your face as well.
βI am sorry about that evening,β he says now.Β βIβm m-mortifiedβ¦βΒ He trails off when he stammers, and he feels his face flush hotly.Β Dammit, he thinks, but then he realizes what heβs doingβheβs falling back into the deep rut of old behavior, so he thinks an abbreviated mantra over and over to steer himself away from the cliffβs edge where he stands.Β Iβm worthy, Iβm worthy, Iβm worthyβ
His thoughts are interrupted by your soft hand, tentative, on his arm.Β Just for a second you touch him.Β Just enough to reassure him, because he looks into your eyes and sees only understanding.Β
βYou donβt have to apologize again.Β Itβs in the past.β
βI justββ
You shake your head, cut him off with a smile.Β βI have an entire lifetime of awkward social moments.Β I get it.Β Really.β
What else can he do but gaze back at you, to return your smile with his own?Β To finally nod his head, to consider himself forgiven?
βGood!βΒ You break away with a little clap of your hands.Β βNow letβs get a vase for those flowers, and then you can help me with the mini quiches my sister has baking.Β I forgive you, but your penance is being a fellow cater-waiter for the evening, okay?β
What else can he do but laugh at that, then give you a little salute?Β How can he resist your charm as the two of you take orders from your sister, the hostess?Β The two of you spend most of the party in the kitchen together, running the dishwasher, drying glasses, uncorking bottles of wine, refilling trays of food.Β You take turns rejoining the party proper, but when you regroup in the kitchen after each excursion, you share little jokes about the other guests, observations and gentle teasing, and Richard realizes late that the entire evening passes and he hasnβt broken out in a cold sweat once.
He realizes that he hasnβt overthought anything either.Β Hasnβt ruminated over his words.Β Heβs at ease, and heβs enjoying himself.
-----
Which means that the night ends far too early.Β
His role in the kitchen gives him a bit of a reprieve:Β when the other guests leave, Richard stays behind and helps clean up.Β Not that you or your sister askedβhe volunteers to stay, and he misses the bemused look that passes from your sister to Mike.Β You miss the look too.
You and Richard tidy up as best you can.Β The bulk of the cleanup will be in the morning, but you put away the leftovers, you set the dishwasher for one last load, and you sweep away the crumbs.Β
The cleanup ends far too early too.
You get his coat for him from the guest bedroom, and then you walk him to the door.Β Mike had said you were shy too, but Richard has never seen itβuntil now.Β At parting, you turn shy.Β You donβt quite meet his eye, and you stammer out how you had fun, as you thank him for his help.
Itβs funny how much your sudden shyness endears you more to Richard.Β He recognizes the emotion in you, and it makes the kinship between you feel stronger.Β You understand him and he understands you, and when was the last time he felt that sort of connection?
That must be what gives him the mad bit of courage as he stands at the threshold.Β You remain indoors, he stands just on the other side of the doorway, and he feels a surge of bravery that makes him lean forward, quick, and brush the gentlest of kisses across your warm cheek.Β
βOh!β you say, startled, and Richard suddenly thinks heβs overplayed his hand.Β He feels his own flush creep up from the collar of his coat.
βSorry, IββΒ He starts to say.
βNo.Β No!Β Youβre fine!Β Youβreββ
βI didnβt meanββ
βYou just surprised me.β
βOh.β
You smile, your eyes finding his.Β βA nice surprise.β
-----
The entire drive home, Richard canβt stop grinning.Β He smiles so muchβand has smiled so much throughout the eveningβthat his cheeks hurt, the muscles so unused to so much effort.Β Itβs only once heβs inside his own home that he kicks himself; he didnβt get your number or give you his, so thereβs no wayβ
βJust ask Mike for it, dummy,β he mutters to himself, but then he recognizes the negative talk, so he amends it.Β βI can just ask Mike for it.Β No worries.Β Of course I didnβt think of it in the moment.Β I was enjoying myself so much.β
But maybe he wasnβt the only one with the mad bit of courage in the end.Β When he goes to shed his coat and hang it up in the hallway closet, he checks his pockets for his walletβ¦and finds a small scrap of paper, folded into fourths.Β Itβs like a passed-note in school, though no one ever passed him a note during his school years.
Itβs from you, of course.Β Your elegant cursive with your name and your number, and below that, an invitation to call you sometime so the two of you can get to know each other better.
I β¦. vaguelyβ¦.. remember requesting this!! I was sooo excited when I got the notification and you continue to be an absolute goddess (gn) of story telling.
They are so cute, the mad bit of courage at the end had me blushing. And I adore his mantras and his self-reflection and just his desire to grow.
There is nothing I ship more than men and therapy. But as someone who has massively struggled with anxiety, and gone through the therapy and meds and all of the seemingly relentless work to get to a good place, i really appreciated those details.
Thank you thank you thank you. You are incredible and I will always devour any crumb of writing you bestow on the world. ππππππππ
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I know this site is like 99.9% usamericans so all of the political posts are focused on the US election but I think it's important for everyone to know that the Australian Liberal Party (which is actually the conservative party) straight up missed the deadline to put in the nominations for local elections, which means there are a stack of electorates where there is no nominee for the major conservative party and it's the funniest thing that's happened in years.
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