This was her first time in an airport. She -- a timid wallflower, an anxious, lanky introvert, a girl with emotional hang-ups & hypersensitivity -- was meeting someone.
The way they met made her cringe, for she believed that dating websites were only for pathetic people looking for a quick fix for their broken hearts. Perhaps sub-consciously that's what she was looking for -- a quick fix for her own broken heart -- though her initial reason for joining wasn't to find a companion, but to entertain the idea of one. She found great intrigue in signing up for dating websites just to browse through endless profiles of strangers' faces, silently hoping to come across somebody that struck her fancy. It was sort of a voyeuristic hobby, & for as long as she's indulged in it she's never once found what she was looking for, if she was looking for anything at all. So it was purely serendipitous that he found her.
Within moments of their first e-conversation, he became instantly smitten without knowing much about her at all. He was quick to establish an intimate connection, regardless of how she felt about him. He said he felt they knew each other in their previous lives, which explained why he was so drawn to her initially. (She doesn't believe in reincarnation.) He even sent her flowers once, how he got her home address he would never tell. His forwardness made her wary of him, yet she found herself enjoying the fact that she was getting attention & affection; albeit, through a computer screen. She never intended for things to become so serious; serious in the sense that he started putting money aside for a plane ticket to come see her. & now, she finds herself sitting alone on a bench in an airport, waiting for him to arrive.
Her heart was fluttering as though it was filled with a thousand baby butterflies. She was nervous & in terrible suspense; it didn't help at all that his flight was said to be 20 minutes late. She suddenly began to question what she had gotten herself into.
She really didn't know much about him, other than the fact that he was single, lived in New York City, & traveled a lot for business. She didn't know his mannerisms; she didn't know his last name; she didn't even really know what he looked like. The picture that was shown in his only profile photo was of a strong, shadowy silhouette with unbelievably dark eyes. (His photography skills, he explained, involved only pressing a button with the hopes he captured a picture; nevermind the flash, the lighting, the poses.) The fact that she knew so little about him, yet he was practically sticking to her like white on rice, was enough to make her call the whole thing off. She could make up an excuse; she was really good at those. They could always do it again some other time, when it was more convenient for her nerves. Maybe the timing was all wrong.
Just as she was starting to stand up to walk to her car, she caught a glimpse of him. Or perhaps it wasn't him, she didn't really know. But his profile resembled that of the out of focus photograph of the man she was getting to know through her computer screen. When she allowed herself to accept that it just might be him, she was able to focus on what he really looked like. The first thing she noticed was his height; he was overwhelmingly tall in the sense that she would be lucky if she reached above his belly button. His facial features were strong, but his face showed a softness she wasn't familiar with. He was dressed in comfortable clothes, perfect for a 3 hour flight from New York but not so much for going out to dinner, which was the plan after they got him settled in his hotel room. & he was carrying a giant teddy bear holding a heart. She assumed it was for her.
He obviously hadn't seen her yet.
Knowing this, & watching as he anxiously searched for her face in the busy crowd of travelers, made her even more compelled to leave him there. For one, she wasn't quite sure if she was attracted to him; if she was going strictly by her previous history with men, he wasn't her type. & then of course there was his size. His lengthy stature intimidated her. She then caught herself wondering how it might be to fuck him, their difference in height might makes things a little tricky. But she promptly pushed that thought away, appalled that she allowed her mind to venture in that direction.
Her conscience ended up getting the best of her as she realized that she couldn't just leave him stranded at the airport. He told her a few days prior that he had no friends or family in California, so she was really & truly his only reason for being there. Against her better judgment, she found herself walking towards him, slowly & cautiously, trying to smile through her nervousness.
He eventually turned in her direction & finally caught sight of her, flashing a smile that practically lit up the entire building. He reached out his arms to embrace her, telling her how happy he was to finally meet her. & just like she presumed, she wasn't much taller than the placement of his belly button.
They drove to his hotel in silence, though his luminous smile still played lightly on his lips. Every so often she could see in her peripheral vision that he was looking at her. This made her feel awkward.
"How was your flight?" she asked, her voice breaking the silence with a quick swipe.
"Oh, it was great!" he exclaimed, his voice exuding too much excitement. "Can't beat those free peanuts they give you."
She forced herself to chuckle but continued to keep her eyes on the road.
When they arrived at his hotel, she stayed in the lobby, not daring to even know what his hotel room number was. She didn't want to give him any leeway to assume the way this visit would start or end. Fifteen minutes later, the elevator doors near the front entrance opened, & there he stood. He had changed into a long sleeved, button-up shirt (internally, she breathed a sigh of relief that he at least had good taste in clothing), tucked into a pair of nicely worn jeans. He walked up to her & took a bow, hoping to make her smile. She did. He then took her arm into his -- his height made her reach up a little ways to get a good grip on the crook of his forearm -- & they walked this way until they reached an Italian restaurant close by.
Sitting at their table, looking through the wine menu, she fidgeted with her dress. She wished she had worn the blue one instead, because the collar wasn't as low. But the black one showed off her curves nicely; especially her breasts, as the neckline plunged low near the small birthmark close to her sternum. She silently wished she could go change.
They eventually chose a red wine. He ordered seafood fettuccine for himself & she, chicken parmesan, even though she knew she wouldn't finish it. As the waitress left their table to fill their order, she hiked up her neckline again. She was starting to form a bad habit.
"I like your dress," he said sincerely. She felt embarrassed for having brought attention to herself & her breasts. She didn't like being the center of attention.
"Thank you," she said, smiling kindly. "I usually don't wear them on dates..." She trailed off after she misused the word "date." That wasn't what this was.
"Oh, is that what we're calling it then?" He laughed before taking a small sip of pinot noir. "I thought this was a business dinner." His teasing made her uncomfortable. She took a long swig of her own wine glass before asking, "Is this your first time in California?"
"It sure is," he said, his voice much louder than it needed to be. "I don't usually come out to the west coast because most of my family lives on the east. But then I saw your profile picture & was mesmorized. I just knew I had to come meet you face to face."
She took another long swig. "How was your flight?" she asked, dabbing her lips with a cloth napkin. He grinned widely, flashing his brilliant white smile again. "You asked me that already, remember? In the car?" How could she forget; it was the only bit conversation they had during the drive to his hotel. She felt her face get hot in embarrassment. Or maybe it was the wine.
Their food came shortly after. He talked most of the time, which made for less than polite table manners, but took the pressure off of her to keep the conversation going. He talked about his cubicle job, his impromptu trip to St. Lucia last year, his twin brother, his modest apartment in the city.
"But enough about me," he said suddenly, mid-story. "Tell me more about you."
