ExposedNYC

Couldn’t you have been late, instead of standing on the corner where you suggested we meet? From across the street we both timidly made eye contact, and I realized that there was a reason I geared our last conversation towards work related topics. You’re a cute guy, but the soundtrack to your walk across the street was definitely more “Shiny Happy People” than the theme from James Bond.

You could have been a little more decisive. When you chose our meeting place I assumed you had a restaurant in mind, and wasn’t planning on wandering the neighborhood aimlessly while wasting some of the conversation that I was already hoping would help me make it through dinner. That was, of course, until I remembered that I can talk endlessly when I’m unintimidated.

The restaurant we finally decided on was delicious, and although you seemed surprised by the prices, you didn’t bat an eye at anything I ordered, and ordered wine to accompany the meal. If you had been cheap and uninteresting I would have felt much less guilty knowing before we sat down that this would be our last dinner together.

There were moments I even felt guilty agreeing with you. By the way your eyes lit up when I owned up to liking comic books, I debated just being a bitch for the rest of the evening just to ease you into disappointment.

And then you brought me to an adorable café because, after admitting to being a coffee connoisseur, you insisted I had to try the best cappuccino in town. Couldn’t you have just ignored me? Cut the night short because you had to meet someone else? Done something to lessen the dread swirling the foam in my stomach into a frothy knot as we approached the end of the evening?

At the very least, you gave me one easy out. You live far enough away that we wouldn’t be able to get together again for a week. I never get my work schedule at the bar that far in advance, so I postponed an answer to your invitation to see “Superbad” until I knew when I was working. So, you walked me to my door and I offered a heartfelt hug and a convincingly demure kiss on the cheek, wishing that I could find a way to make “let’s just be friends” sound less insulting.

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