“I’m going to be vulnerable with you, I’m going to be loving with you. That is love. So the act of vulnerability is an act of faith, a leap of faith, as sometimes love is.” – Drue Metz
“Are You Going to Break my Heart?”
Fiction. Based on a True Vulnerable Beginning.
This journal entry is inspired by true events. Some of the characters, names, businesses, incidents, and certain locations and events have been fictionalized for dramatic purposes. Any similarity to the name, character or history of any person is entirely coincidental and unintentional.
I have a blind date today; he’s a friend of a friend. I haven’t dated in a long time. Mostly because I just don’t want to. I never have time either, I’m always working, which I enjoy.
A friend told me I had to meet him, that he was perfect for me. I highly doubt that, perfection doesn’t exist. I hate when people say things like that. People have to be more realistic. When people say things like “I can’t live without him” it makes me laugh. The only thing you can’t live without is air. “Oh I’d do anything for you,” would you really? Would you kill me for me? Probably not.
I still agree to the date because well… to be honest, I don’t know why. I just do. It’s been a while since I had male attention, it might be nice.
I arrive at the restaurant and I notice him immediately. He looks just like the picture my friend showed me. He notices me too and smiles.
I head to him and he stands up to open my chair. 1 point for him, he’s a gentleman.
“Hi, I’m Ian. Nice to meet you,” he stretches his arm to shake my hand.
“Hi, I’m Amber.” I sit in the chair.
“To be honest, I rarely go on blind dates,” he says. He doesn’t seem nervous, he seems calm and confident. 2 points more.
“Me either, I rarely date at all.”
He chuckles, “Why’d you say yes to me then?” Mmm, he’s forward too. Four points.
I shrug. “I don’t know really.”
He smiles. “I’m glad you did. When I saw your picture you seemed different to me.”
“You’re beautiful, extremely actually. But I don’t know, you seem different.”
“Thanks, I guess?” I don’t know how I feel about that.
“Don’t get me wrong, it’s a compliment,” he says and the waiter comes to take our order.
The date finishes very well. By the end, he has around 8 points which is a record for me. I always find things to take off points, not add them. It feels refreshing to meet someone I actually enjoy.
He walks me to my car and says, “So, let’s be real. The second date is when?”
He’s cocky but it’s tasteful, not to the point where it’s annoying. I smile at him, “Confident?”
“Well, I would like one, don’t you?”
I nod my head. “Give me your phone and I’ll add my number. Call me or text me whenever you want.”
He takes his phone out of his back pocket and hands it to me. I type in my phone and text myself to have his number as well. I give it back to him.
“I’m going to text you tonight,” he says and opens my car door.
“Okay, I’ll see if I want to reply or not,” I say and get in.
I hear his muffled laugh through the car window.
He texts me a simple goodnight text, to which I respond with sleeping emojis. It was a really good date. He was a really good man. It has been so long since I’ve met a man that was worth a second date.
The next day, I’m at work when I get a text from him. I start feeling a flutter in my stomach.
‘Butterflies,’ they call it, but scientifically your body is going into fight-or-flight response. I decide to fight, because I text him back. It’s very strange of me; usually I take flight in this situation. I’m not the person to get excited over another date.
Why? Because once you get your heart broken you’re never the same. Having a broken heart hurts like no other. The thing about a broken heart is that it’s always there, you might think you’re okay and then suddenly you’re crying over a stupid boy that left you years ago.
That’s why I never go on dates. I never answer because all of the other men I meet have a little of that boy I fell for. Not this one though, this one is a man. He’s different and refreshing. I don’t see no red flags. If he shows one then I’ll take flight. But for now, I’ll fight. I’m going to allow myself to enjoy this.
Our second date is tonight. I’m feeling excited. I can’t remember the last time I felt excited about something that isn’t work. Liking someone shows because I’m in my best heels, I got my hair done and I put on all the make-up I could. I have never put this much effort into my looks.
Thank God I did. The second I head inside the restaurant he looks at me and smiles. I head to him with a smile that shows all of my teeth.
“You look,” he says, eyeing me up and down, “wow!” he says.
“Thank you,” I say and look at him. He’s gorgeous as well. I can see he also spent a little more time getting ready. And he smells delicious. “You look great too,” I say and sit on the chair he has taken out for me.
It’s a perfect night. By the end, he already has around 15 points. I feel so good, I can’t stop smiling and giggling. I don’t think I’ve giggled since I was a teenager. He makes me feel just like that, a teenager.
“So, I really really want to take you back to my place, for some more wine,” he admits while opening my car door.
I’m about to say ‘okay’ but he interrupts me.
“But, I want this to work, and past relationships have hurt me bad. I want to do this right, and slow,” he says. It the first time of the night that he isn’t smiling. I know he’s serious. Add about five more points. He’s actually respectful and he wants to make this work.
“I agree. But, I like you, so I don’t want it to be the type of slow where we’re not fully committed and you’re also seeing another girl to take it slow,” I admit. If past relationships have taught me anything it is that I have to be straightforward with what I want. If this is going to work, might as well start now.
He nods. “Agreed. I like you too, a lot. Trust me, no other girl is worth losing you,” he says. He’s looking right into my eyes. Like we’re having our own little private conversation.
‘You’re gorgeous’ ‘I want you’
He breaks eye contact to look at my lips. My heart is pounding to break free. It’s stupid really, the way hormones react is unacceptable. I want control of my body, but clearly my hormones have it at this point. He kisses me and control is given. My whole body ignites and I can’t remember how to shut it down now.
He does. He stops before we touch any further. He’s breathless, as I am. “Slow,” he whispers. “Damn it, I didn’t know it would be hard,” he says and kisses me again.
We finally stop. “I’m going to leave you now,” he whispers.
“Text you tonight?” he says in a normal voice.
I look at him and smile. I get in my car and look at him through the window. I roll it down. “Are you going to break my heart?” I ask in a soft voice.
“Not likely,” he says and bends down to kiss me one last time.