I was meeting her at 9 PM at the Ash St. Saloon. It was to be our first meeting; we had connected, however tenuously, when I responded to her ad on Craigslist.
I had had a bit of rejection the night before, though it had been immediately forgotten by having a great time with my friend as we prowled the art galleries in the Pearl District for First Thursday.
But tonight, after a long boring day at work, and far too much thinking on my part… I just didn’t feel any excitement in going through with it. The little voice in the back of my head, the negative one, had started. It had nothing to do with her, the girl I was meeting. It had everything to do with me, my fears, my needs.
It was 9:05 PM. I’d been wandering around Old Town, up to Powell’s, down to Backspace, arguing with myself. Do I? Don’t I?
I pulled out my cell phone. I had her number in there.
I hit the little envelope button. I started a new text, addressed to Tracy.
I knew that Tracy would tell me to go through with it. But I knew she wouldn’t judge me too harshly if I didn’t. She’s a good friend that way.
My thumb started pecking out words.
The screen of my phone changed. Incoming call.
Of course, it was her. The girl I was meeting tonight.
I heard bar noises in the background. We hadn’t spoken on the phone yet, just traded emails. Her voice, as one would imagine of a professional musician, was measured and strong. “Hi. I was just wondering if you were here yet?”
“I am on my way. Just a couple of blocks away.” I turned on my heel and walked in the direction of the bar.
“OK. I’m at the bar.”
“Great! See you soon.”
I hung up.
I was glad she’d called.