NOTE TO READER: Just a story from a dream. Though it could be relatable to anybody.
“I would love to have dinner with you tonight.”
This was the response I received after suggesting going to
dinner with him after two weeks of not seeing each other. Part of me was
excited, but another part of me was worried. How do I look? Have I changed
much in the last two weeks? I know I’ve
been really stressed, searching for a new apartment, preparing for my upcoming
trip home next month… dear god, my skin is freaking out!
But, I must push these concerns to the back of my mind
because this isn’t about me and how I look, but about dinner, and catching up.
He said he missed me and couldn’t wait to see me again. When we first met, he
spoke softly and sweetly, and we had chemistry. He was gorgeous and a little
bit weird. I thought it was cute at the time, and he got me excited. It was two
weeks of attraction before he flew to his home country for a two week holiday.
We agreed to have dinner, and I would go home because I had
to get ready for work the next day, and I had other plans. I told him that I
would finish and go home at 10 o’clock.
We meet at lobby of his hotel, to walk to a restaurant outside to
eat. We have a casual conversation about, well, nothing. All the normal: How was
your flight? How was your visit home? I’m doing okay, just busy.
"Yes, so we’ll go and eat dinner, and have some drinks, and
go back to my place and have sex."
Wait, what?
I look over at him to see if I really heard what I thought. He
laughs, so I did, but I’m not sure if he’s joking. I give a playful response,
because I’m not sure how to react.
“That’s a bit presumptuous, don’t you think?” He smiles.
He asks me about my day, and I say “Well, I worked since 8
today, so I’m a bit tired, but I had a good day. I’ve been looking for a new
place to move into after I come back. I’ve also been preparing for my trip back
to the country.”
He responds, commenting on my schedule, that I’m busy, maybe
a bit too busy. He says that he wishes I wasn’t so busy so that we could see
each other more often, more spur of the moment and by appointment. I tell him
that spur-of-the-moment meetings don’t come with ease.
Then he murmurs to himself “you have too many rules.” I’m
not sure if he meant for me to hear or not, but the concerns I had from before
started to float to the front of my mind.
“Hey, don’t worry, I just miss you and I want you to have a
good time. I just feel like you may not because you don’t seem very relaxed.”
“Oh, I’m always like this, but I just have a lot to think
about”
He shrugs and nods as we continue to walk.
We reach the restaurant and are seated. He tells me what he
wants and insists that we get 2 plates of chicken wings, one for me, one for
him, although I tell him that I don’t need a large amount of food if I can’t
eat it all. I order what he wants, soup to share (making sure it is not spicy
since he doesn’t eat spicy food), and some stir fry vegetables, since I can
speak enough of the language here to get what I want. He orders two Heinekens.
We clink our glass mugs, and after we sip, he speaks.
“That’s the first time you’ve made eye contact with me today”
Again, I am confused, having looked at him, and conversed,
and apparently I hadn’t made eye contact with him? What is he talking about?
As if he read my mind, he responds “I like looking at your
eyes.” Well, I suppose that is a sweet gesture. I’m starting to get a weird
feeling, though, as if a stone were in my stomach.
The chicken wings arrive and, by his recommendation, I try
one. The soup I ordered to share comes, but he says he doesn’t want it. Well,
then, I want chilies, and you can have the chicken, this is a lot of soup.
I ask for some, and we chat.
His friend calls, and he asks if he can join us. “Of course!
That’s not a problem” five minutes later his friend, and the vegetables arrive,
and we are all chatting. The weight in my stomach eases up a bit as I spoon in
my (now) spicy and sour soup. We talk about food, driving, work, the people
here, and other monotonous yet information aspects of where we are. My dates
tries to show me off, talking about how I can read and speak the local language
here, and occasionally the two speak in their native tongue while I sit and
watch. Occasionally, I would look over at him while his friend is talking, and he
would wink at me. That could just be a weird eye twitch, though. Still, that
stone in my stomach has come back.
I start to feel tired, and I know that my friends are
waiting for me. I check my phone, it’s 9:30PM.
My dinner date asks me what time it is. “9:30, we should get going soon.”
He frowns “Really? Can’t you stay maybe an hour more?”
I return the frown, because didn’t we agree that I would go
at 10? So I repeat what I had said before, but his expression doesn’t change.
“You’re kidding, right?”
“No, I want to go at 10”
“Ok.”
His friend calmly sits, and says “I’m ready to go home.” At
that, we get the bill, and they get a driver to take me home, us sharing the
SUV. We pass by his hotel as the driver takes me home, my dinner date and I
sharing the back seat.
He looks at me deeply
and asks me “Are you sure you want to go home now?” I nod. He takes my hand,
caressing it, and then leans in to whisper something in my ear.
“You destroyed my
evening.”
That was when I felt the stone, no longer a slight pressure,
but a heavy pull, as it doubled my weight.
I can’t do this. The concerns I had weren’t about me, but
about us, and why it wouldn’t work. The weight of the stone was growing each time
some fault of mine was brought up. Even as he tried to reason to make what he
said better, I knew that everything else was going to be about what I did wrong
to him.
“I had a surprise for you.” It doesn’t matter, we agreed
on a time that I would go, and you made your expectations without my acknowledgement.
“I wanted to just spend time being with you” You have
been spending time.
“I never get to see you” I have a work schedule that
often goes into the late evening, I told you.
“It’s not about sex” No, it’s not. It’s about control.
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