sometimes he misses how it felt. misses the feeling of clammy palms and a racing heart at the prospect of a date. misses how his twenty something years old self would overthink it, would ruin it in his own head before they even sat down to eat or … whatever else the plan was. he still feels a little nervous now but it is nothing compared to the way he’d chew on his own tongue back then. he’s older now. sometimes wondering if he is too old for this now– for the apps and the first meetings and all of that but … what other option was there ? how else would the past be the past and he’d … give himself another chance at– what ? peace ? a future not spent alone ? love ? … will doesn’t know the answer to that and tries, in contrast to back then, not to overthink it.
the dying bud of a cigarette is crushed under his shoe before he approaches the cooking school where he’d booked a seminar for the two of them. he’s been here twice before. not on a date– but to appreciate the work. that’s not a first. ocean eyes on soft skin and even softer eyes though … that is a first. “ hey. carly, right ? “ and fuck– he hopes it is right. @alchemyfought