Dating

For how long, who knows?

"You got the job?" I asked right away, not sure if he would even recognize me.

"Oh, yes, and thanks for your help with the credit card machine," he said with a smile.

"Anytime. Glad to help," I said. I bit my lip, then added boldly, "Want to return the favor?"

He looked a little puzzled, but readily agreed. "Can I sit with you?" I asked, simply.

Things seemed to get better from there, and we had a nice conversation. I told him about my latest project and his encouragement made me ready to conquer the world. His conversation overall left me giddy, and carefree, singing to the radio on the way home and doing a few excited dance steps as I closed the door of my apartment behind me. I taped the phone number to my stuffed bear that sits on my nightstand and keeps watch, just so I could see it when I woke up.

He asked me out the next day. I played the message back five times before calling him back with my answer.

But then I remembered how bad I am at the dating thing.

Dating just doesn't seem to work for me. Maybe I am socially clumsy. Maybe things aren't always meant to work out.

First of all, he arranged to meet me at a nice restaurant. Then a nasty-looking car accident occurred on the expressway, tying up traffic for miles, and I ended up half an hour late. And when I arrived, I didn't see him anywhere. The place was crowded and I was becoming frantic in my search for him, I found him on the phone, confessing to a friend that his date appeared to have stood him up. He was just asking if his buddy wanted to go out drinking with him.