Page 37 of Between Then and Now
“I like to travel,” she says without looking up at me as she reads the specials.
I find myself searching for topics that might spark her interest. “What do you like to do when you travel?” I ask, hoping to hit on something she’s passionate about.
Alexa lights up a little at this. “I enjoy exploring new cities and trying out local food. It’s fun to experience different cultures.” We pause for a while, finally ready to order food.
“That sounds exciting…” I say, trying to match her enthusiasm. “What’s been your favorite city so far?”
“Paris,” she replies with a smile. “I went there last year and loved the architecture and the food. It was a really great trip.”
“That’s awesome,” I respond, trying to build on the conversation. “I’ve always wanted to visit Paris. Did you get to see the Louvre?”
I instantly regret asking, because she might tease me about my painting mishap. But I realize immediately that she’s not Bon and that she’s not the teasing type, and she won’t say ‘for someone who doesn’t even know painters, why do you care about the Louvre?’
Alexa only says, “Yes, I did,” her smile growing a bit. “It was incredible. But honestly, the best part was just walking around the city and finding little cafes.”
We talk a little more about her trip, but the conversation soon drifts back to more mundane topics. I glance down at my half-empty glass, swirling the remaining wine in an attempt to focus, but the weight of disappointment settles deeper. This date was supposed to be everything I wanted, yet here I am, not really getting into it. Not the excitement, not the nervousness, just a hollow ache of disillusionment.
“Excuse me for a moment,” I finally say, pushing back my chair and standing up. “I’ll be right back.”
“Sure,” Alexa replies, her smile polite but distracted.
I make my way to the bathroom to restart my emotions. Once inside, I head straight for the sink and turn on the faucet, letting the cool water run over my hands. The splash of water on my face is a brief shock, a small attempt to jolt myself back into the present. I grip the edge of the sink, staring at my reflection in the mirror.
This is what you’ve always wanted, Ryan.Man up and enjoy it, I say to myself. I take a deep breath, then step out of the bathroom to see that our food is served. I sit back and smile at her. I want so badly to enjoy this. I want to get into this. Please, I want this to feel like something. Anything.
I take my fork and twirl the spaghetti as we start eating. “This pasta is really good,” I say, attempting to find a common appreciation.
“It is,” Alexa agrees, but her tone remains neutral.
Throughout the meal, I catch myself glancing around the restaurant, distracted by the clinking of silverware and the murmur of other diners. The atmosphere is actually pleasant–warm lighting, jazz music in the background–but I’m struggling to engage with it. I feel like someone on the outside looking in.
It’s one of those post-achievement letdowns, where you look forward to something for so long, but when it finally arrives, it doesn’t quite live up to your expectations. Maybe it’s because you’ve dragged it out and created scenarios in your head that when the real thing comes, it’s nothing comparable to the things you’ve imagined. And it’s not about Alexa; I’m sure she’s a wonderful person. She’s beautiful, smart, and kind. I don’t want to admit it, but I’m so incredibly… bored.
As dessert arrives–a slice of tiramisu that somehow seems more appealing than the rest of our conversations–I decide to take a different approach to try to squeeze anything out of this evening. I quickly glance at my phone notes to see the questions I put there. “I was thinking of trying a new hobby soon. Maybe something creative. Do you have any recommendations?”
Alexa seems to appreciate the change in topic, though her response is cautious. “I’m not sure. I’ve always been the stick-to-what-you know type, so I don’t really know what to recommend.” This, I’m skeptical of. No one who likes to travel and see new cultures is the stick-to-what-you-know type. Maybe she’s just as bored as I am, just as eager for this evening to end.
I nod despite my nagging thoughts. “Yeah, me too,” I lie.
When the check arrives, I feel a mix of relief and frustration. The evening wasn’t a disaster, but it certainly wasn’t the connection I had hoped for. I find myself wondering if I’m missing something or if this is just how it’s supposed to be.
I originally planned for the walk by the beach but that attempt at romance seems like overkill now. This date is beyond salvation. When Alexa agrees to end the evening, we return to the inn, and I walk her to her room. We hover in front of her door for a while and more awkward silence ensues.
“Well, here we are,” I say, trying to break the tension. My voice sounds almost too loud in the stillness.
“Yeah,” Alexa replies softly, her gaze shifting from the door to me. She looks up at me with a hesitant, yet hopeful expression.
I open my mouth to say something–anything–to fill the void between us, but before I can, Alexa takes a small step closer. She reaches up, her hand gently touching my shoulder, and it makes my heart race for all the wrong reasons.
“I had a nice time tonight,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper.
Nice time? Were we on the same date? Because from where I was sitting, it was the most painful date of my life. I try to keep my face neutral, unsure how to respond. She hesitates for a moment before leaning in, and then I realize what she was trying to do–she’s about to kiss me.
Oh, boy.
As Alexa’s face draws near, panic sets in, and I instinctively take a step back. “Oh, um—” I stammer, feeling my heart race and my palms sweat. “This was great, goodnight, Alexa.” Jackass move, I know.
She looks at me with apprehension for a while before she says, “You nervous or something? In case you didn’t know, I was gonna kiss you.”
