A cold night of February…

The sun has set a while ago already. Around 5 O’clock, and everything is dark in town. I like that, I like winter nights, the shadows on snow, the crisp air… I might say that just because I have a date tonight. Not a romantic date, not officially.

Tonight I am going to the theater. Not the movies, the real thing. Going to see a play based on one of Amélie Nothomb’s books. I can’t go wrong with Amélie. I like getting lost in her stranger than strange stories. Her universe is so unique, you can either love it or hate it, but I can’t imagine someone just being indifferent to her writing…

And I am going with him. I can’t go wrong with him either… I still can’t believe he accepted my invitation. My heart skips a beat every time I remind myself that he is coming… A night out at the theater, with him… What a dream night!

I have put my favorite black dress on, pulled up my hair in an artistic chignon… I even put on some make up. Not much though, a little mascara and lip blush, that’s all. I already have my knee-up black suede boots on, and I am wrapping a long and silky red, black and white scarf around my neck when my cellphone beeps from the kitchen.

“On my way”

I shiver as I read the quick message on the screen…

After checking that the tickets are safe in my purse, I put on my long red winter coat, and lock the door on my way out. As soon as I join him, on the corner of the street, my feet leave the ground… I am sure I am floating a few inches above the sidewalk, as we chit chat along the way.

He is the type of guy every woman wants, and every man envies… Brilliant, mysterious, funny, charming and incredibly handsome! And he is walking with me, laughing at my jokes, and looking in my eyes, never leaving them, as we talk about his upcoming projects, or my last vacation abroad.

I feel lucky as can be…

Once in the theater, sitting in the dark, right next to him, my eyes jump from the actors to his lap and back. What if my hand met his, would he hold it or refuse my mild advances? I already feel so priviledged, why aspire for more?

We watch the play, and I finally keep my hands for myself…  At the end, we applaud, stand up to reward the cast, and we put our winter coats back on.

“I’ll walk you back home…”

He is such a gentleman. By his side, I am as bubbly as a little girl. I am already imagining inviting him to come in and have a coffee… It is so rare that our schedules let us spend an evening together, I’d be a fool not to try to stretch my luck a little!

I am swaying on the sidewalk, when our little walk is abruptly stopped.

When passing in front of a popular restaurant, a loud noise makes me step up. A woman has popped in the glass window, her palms pressed against it, looking like the good old Garfield plush we used to stick in car windows…

Obviously, my companion and the Garfield lady know each other, and she seems particularly happy to see him (I couldn’t blame her). He turns my way, his eyes silently asking for my approbation as he says;

“Would you excuse me, I just have to go in!”

I am in no position to ask for his exclusive attention, so I nod, and watch him enter the restaurant, the Garfield lady stepping away from the window and disappearing in the crowd to meet him.

I stand a few minutes on the sidewalk, staring at the restaurant’s door… People enter, and people get out, but no sign of my friend. I walk down a few meters, not to stand right in front of the entrance, and wait a little more…

When my toes start to feel the freezing biting of the winter cold, I start thinking about walking home, alone. It’s been a while already, and I feel like all the pedestrians can see how I’ve been dropped there, without a peck on the cheek or a handshake…

I just don’t understand what just happened.

I finally turn my back to the restaurant and head back home… My suede boots making the freshly fallen snow squeak under my soles… I can’t hold a few tears, that roll down my cheeks as I walk. I am not sad, I am furious.

I never pretended to be the kind of girl men longed to be with. I have always lived well with that. But the humiliation of being dropped out in front of that restaurant is too much to take and I rage against myself for being so foolish around him.

Stupid me… Dang stupid me, stupid enough to think I could be interesting enough to keep him entertained by my only presence a whole evening through… I rush through the streets and almost knock my front door open.

Anger is a bad advisor, but I am just just mad, at me, at him, mad beyond madness.

“Thank you for the lovely evening”

Send! If he doesn’t get the irony, he is just plainin dumb!

About an hour later an answer pops on my cell phone’s screen.

“A lovely evening indeed, we should try that again soon…”

Dumb.

Not likely to happen, unless I end up being dumber than him…