Middle of Something

I'm elated. More than elated. I'm ecstatic. I get to go on a date with Jensen Bulling. Jensen Bulling. Just thinking his name gives me butterflies.

So, a little backstory. He's worked with me at the office since last year. We've been friends since the first day. Imagine meeting someone you feel like you've known your whole life. That's how it was for us. But we've never crossed the line into more than friendship. Sure, we've hung out. Gone to parties. Had movie nights. But not a date. Tonight is a first.

As I swing open my closet doors, work clothes stare back at me. Do I even have anything approprite to wear? Rummaging through clothes is like going through a magical personal runway show. You see the item of clothing, and the image of you wearing it is projected in the front of your brain. Next item: new projection. But if you're not wearing a dress, body suit, or overalls, you kinda got to get more creative. For instance, if you find a shirt you like, then you have to find something to pair it with. Jeans? Shorts? Skirt? What kind of weather is it? Where are you going? Get the idea?

In this moment, I half wish I was a boy. Their outfits are much easier to pull off. But if I was a boy, I wouldn't be going on this date, and I'm so excited about this date. So, I keep up my rummaging.


He saw me in that last week.

Wore that two days ago.

That's cute, but not quite right.

Hmmm...does that even still fit? Maybe I should try it on.
I start to make a pile of possible clothing candidates. Before long, its a foot high. I should start trying things on.

My excitement is turning into fear.

My first item is a casual gray sweater. I pair it with turquoise jeans and a multicolored scarf. But the shoes that match aren't my favorite. So it goes in the maybe pile.

Next item: A black dress. Yes, the black dress. A girl always needs one of those. Black stretch silk with rouching of chiffon across the bodice, cascading in waves down the skirt. I pull it on. It feels tighter than the last time I wore it. When was the last time I wore it? Was it really over six months ago, with my ex at his friend's wedding luncheon? Just thinking of that makes me sick. He dumped me after the wedding reception. Maybe this dress had bad karma. Or maybe it's just too revealing. I give myself a once over. Fitted through the shoulders, cups my chest nicely, flat to my hips, but what's going on there? I try to flatten a ridge. Oh...it's the underslip. I tug it down. Much better. I just lost a dress size through that area. But it still feels too formal. Almost like I'm over doing it for him. I tug it back over my head.

It continues like this until my pile is empty. I feel like I've calculated for everything. This season's fashions. This season's color scheme. The weather. The venue. Matching what I guess he'd wear. What shoes I want to wear. What vibe I want to give off. What hairstyle I'm going to do. There are so many things to consider.

I flop down on my bed. Exhausted. My excitement and fear have turned into frustration.

Who am I trying to impress? Jensen? Myself? The people of the world? As I consider this. I become overwhelmed.

I'm not excited for this date anymore. All I want to do is curl up in a ball and fall asleep. But I can't. I need to get up and get ready.

I check the clock. Only forty five minutes before he arrives. I need to make a decision now so I won't be late. That wouldn't be good first date etiquette.

Sorting through my discarded outfits takes more out of me than I realize and before I know it, I'm lying next to the pile, running my hands across the carpet, making invisible snow angels.

"Rough day?" My best friend's voice pulls me back into sanity.

"Not day. Just last couple hours." I nod toward the clothes. "My clothes are throwing a rebellion."

She smiles. "Hot date?"

"With Jensen." I concede.

Her face lights up. "Jensen? As in, your Jensen?"

"The same."

She's jumping up and down now. "What's the problem then? You should be going crazy with excitement."

"I was. Until I couldn't find anything to wear."

Her smile slips some. She walks over to me and collapses onto the floor, mirroring my position. "He's seen you in several different outfits and situations. He's not asking your clothes out, he's asking you out. Just wear something that makes you feel good,. He will like you in whatever you choose." She pauses. "Well, as long as he's not like your last boyfriend and had to approve of all your choices before you could be seen together."

I consider her words. "Is that what my problem is? Am I afraid to make a choice because I think it might be wrong?"

"Well, not to sound rude, but the last guy you dated was kinda a jerk. All he cared about was what you looked like on the outside. And by doing that, he hurt you on the inside. It's your chance to be you again. Free. Choose what you'd like to wear. What's on the outside doesn't matter. It's the inside that counts."