"Emilia, what has gotten into you?" He looked at me. I could see the sadness in his eyes—his beautiful blue eyes.He was beautiful; everyone could see that. My friends, after meeting him, told me how good he was and how perfectly we would fit together. He was indeed probably the most perfect man I had ever dated. He was kind, remembered everything I told him, made small gifts, took me out to dinner, listened to my favorite music because I mentioned it. He was just the kind of man a woman could wish for.
Not me, though. It wasn't that I didn't like him. It was just that I couldn't feel a thing. It was like the last five dates I'd had. They were nice. They wanted more. But I just couldn't get myself to do that.
I called it quits five times. After I told my friends that it didn't work out again, they just told me to stop trying, that I was hopeless. I think they were right, so I stopped for a few months.But I got really lonely again. I downloaded this stupid dating app and then there was Ben. The big, blond, beautiful guy with those piercing blue eyes.
And now we are here.
"I'm sorry. I can't believe this is happening again. I just... I can't explain how sorry I am." I looked at him and then I just couldn't stand it anymore. I inspected my hands, holding my purse, fidgeting with one of the handles. I just couldn't get myself to look at him again. I probably would start to cry, and that was not something I wanted.
"What is happening again? What do you mean?" He sounded a little angry. We were on a date—our fifth one—and I just acted different, like I always did to get the guy to just leave me alone so I wouldn't have to be the one to tell them off. But this time was different. He was the first one that wanted to talk. The first one I liked more than the others, but he wasn't the first one I could love.
"I can't do this, Ben. I'm sorry. I didn't want to hurt you. I was just so alone and I don't know what to do with myself. I don't want to be like this. I want to change, but every time I try, it's always the same." Tears were flowing down my cheeks. I hated that I couldn't control myself. I was just so angry—angry at me, at him for asking me what's wrong, and at these stupid dating apps that brought literally this man.
"I don't know what you mean. First, you acted like you liked me, and you always wanted to see me. We texted 24/7, and now you are so cold. You didn't even smile at me once today." I looked up again. He looked even sadder now. I just couldn't feel the empathy he deserved in this moment. I just thought about getting out of there. I wanted to be home. And I knew that tomorrow I would be happy not to deal with this kind of stuff anymore. It was so wrong of me. I was such an asshole.
"I have social anxiety, Ben. I just can't help myself. My thoughts are so loud. They tell me that I shouldn't waste my time. I can't even enjoy meeting you anymore because they tell me that you probably think badly of me all the time. And I don't even know if that's true, but I just can't control it. I'm so alone all the time and I just can't get myself to change that. It will probably be the end of me someday. I'm so sorry," I told him. I couldn't read what he was thinking. He probably thought about how stupid this was and how he had wasted his time with me. Maybe he thought he shouldn't have dated such an ugly woman in the first place.
"Why did you not tell me?" He sounded so sad. fuck.
"Because I thought maybe this time it would change, but it doesn't. I've given up now. I always hurt others just because I'm trying. I'm just so sorry." We were standing in front of a supermarket. Luckily, it was Sunday, and no one but us was here. I think I would have fainted if someone could hear us talking about stuff like that. Wait... are there cameras?
"That's a lot to take in, Emilia. I have to think about it before I can say anything about it. So, if you want, we can meet up tomorrow. I just have to think now, okay?"
"Alright, just text me." They never do, but I guess we'll see.
YOU ARE READING
Short Storys
Historia CortaA series of short stories, each with distinct characters and plots. Simple, varied, and *easy to read. (*painful to read)