Much Ado About You(2)
AARON T
So what don’t you like about yourself?
ME
If I’m being honest, I have physical insecurities. I’ve gotten more confident over the years, but I still have days I don’t feel great about myself.
AARON T
Why do you have insecurities? You’re fucking gorgeous.
ME
Thanks. But I’m tall and I’m not skinny. Far from it. I’ve gotten a lot of “you’re big for a woman” comments on first dates, followed by them never calling me again.
It was true. At five foot ten, I was tall. In my four-inch heels, that put me at six foot two. But I didn’t think that was what bothered some guys. I had plentiful boobs, an ass, hips, and although I had a waist, it wasn’t super trim. Neither was my belly. Either guys loved my tall voluptuousness, or they labeled me fat. I hated that word. It made me physically flinch. But there were days, usually around my period, where I felt overweight and wondered how anyone could be attracted to me.
Most days I was content enough with myself, even had days where I felt sexy. However, maybe I’d feel confident every day if I were a few inches shorter and a dress size or two smaller. Who knew? Didn’t we all sometimes wish we were the opposite of what we were? I gave myself a break when I had those kinds of thoughts because on most days I liked myself, inside and out.
The trick was to guard against allowing other people to dictate how I felt about my physical appearance. However, I noticed a correlation between periods of high self-worth and low self-esteem and when I was online dating. Shallowness in men was a huge turnoff for me, yet that didn’t mean those who rejected me based on my appearance hadn’t had a subconscious effect on me.
AARON T
So you said you’re an editor. Where? What? Tell me more.
ME
I’m an editorial assistant at Reel Film, the film magazine.
AARON T
That’s cool. What does that mean exactly? Do you write reviews and stuff?
ME
No, I’m assistant to an editor. I started out in an administrative position but over the last few years I’ve helped my editor, editing the journalists’ articles.
ME
My editor is retiring, and his position is open. It’s likely I’ll get it.
AARON T
That’s awesome. Maybe I can take you out to celebrate?
ME
Maybe What’s your idea of celebrating?
AARON T
Whatever you want it to be. I aim to please
I sighed heavily, trying to alleviate the churning in my stomach. I’d been working at Reel Film for ten years, had been passed over many times for an editor’s job, but finally my long wait was over. I was excited about it, but I was also distracted by my interactions with Aaron. He’d stolen my focus and we hadn’t even met. There was something addictive about our conversations—they made me feel young in a way I hadn’t in a long time.
And now . . . now was he standing me up?
I looked at the very last snap sent last night.
ME
Can’t wait to see you tomorrow.
I could see he’d opened it only a few hours ago.
My fingers hovered over the keyboard. Glancing at the time on the phone, noting he was now twenty minutes late, I quickly sent a snap.
ME
I’m at the restaurant. Are you running late?
A few anxious minutes passed, and then I saw he’d opened it.
Relief filled me.
But as a minute turned into five and there was no sign of a reply, a sick feeling rose within me. Five minutes turned into ten.
What an idiot I’d been.
Yet, even as I sat there, I did that thing people do when they turn over all the other possibilities in their head.
Someone had stolen his phone and it wasn’t him opening the messages.
Maybe he’d been in an accident.
He was already in love with me and it was all just a little overwhelming.
I gave a bark of laughter at that one and ignored the bemused look the couple at the next table gave me.
It was then I sensed the hovering waiter. I glanced to my left and gave him a forced smile. “You need the table back, don’t you?”
He shook his head. “No, you’re fine. I just wondered if you wanted to order anything?”
“Do you have an alternate-reality special on the menu? You know, the kind where I don’t get stood up?”
The waiter gave me a sympathetic smile. “Sorry, we don’t. If it makes you feel better, a lot of people would order it if we did.”
I laughed. “Yeah? See a lot of this, do you? I wonder what his excuse will be. If he offers an excuse, that is.”
“Maybe his dog died.”
“Or his dog ate his goldfish and he had to do the Heimlich maneuver.”
The waiter chuckled. “I once got stood up and he texted me to tell me that his visa had expired, and he’d left the country that day. I saw him in Andersonville two weeks later.”
“No way.”
“Yes way.”
Feeling a little better at the reminder I wasn’t the only person to have ever been stood up, I told the friendly waiter I was going to head home, and he offered me a bolstering smile as I left the restaurant.
Despite joking around about it, I felt stupid for making myself vulnerable to someone who would stand me up.