You’re so excited, aren’t you? Why wouldn’t you be? Tis the season! Everyone’s around and every guy you’ve had a conversation with wants to see you, wants to get to know you more. You’re young and beautiful and fresh in these moments aren’t you? When you’re asked what restaurants you would like to go to, you suggest the ones with low warm lighting and nice music. You want this to be as pleasant as possible. You shave your legs and put on lashes. You take extra care in flossing, you get all nice and pretty. Because this is who you are. An ultramodern girl that wears gold jewelry and laughs at everything he says.
You love the feeling of this, this newness. It’s good to sit opposite someone and watch them mirror you. You’ll ask a question and he’ll answer earnestly, and when he’ll ask you the same question back, you’ll choose giving an open ended statement that will let him talk more, you usually pick this option.
Talking drains you of energy quickly and you end up trailing off. He doesn’t need to know that, you’ve tried talking more than necessary and didn’t get a call back after a date. So you keep it short and sweet.
You eat quietly, you laugh loudly and you spend your time grazing your eyes over every detail of every man. There’s the guy you’ve only seen in trad, you like it, you find him mature and polite and thoughtful. And the guy who wears turtlenecks and tailored pants, who showed you his Rolex and let you know the quickest way to spot a fake one is if it ticks.
They all pay, they all compliment your dentition. And you’ve come to expect the phrase but are nevertheless flattered when you hear it. You love to be told how pretty and ambitious or funny you are. They could be lying, but you don’t waste your time thinking about it when you have an attractive man sitting in front of you, telling you all the things that are right about you and him.
That’s what newness does.
After dates you let them usher you into their cars where you say thank you coyly. You sneak your hand into his and it somehow ends on your thigh. Some drive around, some drive you home. Some get a kiss, some don’t, and some get exactly what they want or more, depending on how intimidated you are.
And once you say your final goodnights and goodbyes, you walk back into your home, your body feels much heavier, much less attractive. Gravity drags you back to your reality and you let the excitement waver into anxiety, your hope into shame. You take off your gold plated jewelry and your lashes and tie your hair up. You sit in bed and turn the television up and try to drown out the conversations you’ve had tonight replaying in your head.
Before you drift off to sleep your phone goes off, it’s a message from him, telling you he had a nice time and he can’t wait to see you again, all the pleasantries and what not. You send the same message back with different words. Adding a joke at the end, a faint smile on your face.
You are in bed and you are no longer ultramodern, you are tiny and weak, lost and confused. You know it’s pathetic how much you’ve primed and prepped for this. Because it is really. You really sat in front of a mirror for more than an hour saying to yourself in your head if you wore this and laughed like that and said not too much, you’d get to go on another date. And it worked. Not being yourself really worked.
You roll over and let tears fill your eyes. You don’t like him one bit. You hope he doesn’t feel the same. You are so lonely. Tis the season.
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