'How Did Your Date Go?'

Just an internal analysis of a young man trying to figure out his relationships.. or lack thereof.

He stepped into his house, eyes cast downward and shoulders hunched slightly, thinking about the last couple of hours. A false hope, the time he'd spent with the girl, and he knew well that all that'd been accomplished was a confirmation of what he already knew; there was nothing romantic between them.

But he hadn't expected anything else. He'd hoped for more and in his romantic mind he'd seen a thousand different scenarios play out where, in the end, he and the girl were together and happy to have found their love. But they were the thoughts of a fanciful young man with an overly active imagination and had no real anchor in reality. They were just what scenarios in the head were: Dreams.

He heard his father's voice and grimaced, knowing what was to come. His chest already tight and hurting from the night, he stepped forward and his father greeted him merrily. The young man gave his father a curt but acceptable counter greeting and tried to hurry to his room.

“How'd it go?” came the question that stopped the young man in his tracks.

“It was nice.”

“Think it'll happen again?” The same question as always.

“I don't know.” The same response.

“Well.. what did you guys do?”

The young man internally sighs and puts on a facade of happiness, “Just watched a movie and got smoothies.”

“Oh, cool. So did she have fun?”

“I think so.”

“So it should happen again, then, shouldn't it?”

Logic. The young man felt himself hurt a little more at it. She had had fun. But that wasn't the point.

“I guess.”

“Don't you think so?”

“I don't know.”

“How don't you know? You were there. Didn't she have fun?”

“We both had a good time,” the young man replied and he tried to hurry away.

“Why don't you think it'll happen again?” The question, asked for the hundredth time, caused something in the young man to snap and suddenly there was no filter.

“Because she doesn't like me! Because she, like every other damned girl out there thinks I'm a great friend and wants to be around me just enough to keep me loyal. Because I'm not what she wants and girls don't know what they do want, so I can't change, all they know is what they don't want. And she doesn't want me.” Then the young man caught himself and the filter rose again. And all the emotion that had been about to burst out was contained once again.

The father looked at his son for a few moments, studying him. His father was a smart man but the young man hoped that all the emotions swirling around within him. Part of him was hurt from the lack of womanly affection from the girl, from the fact that she looked at him as a brother rather than a possible lover. Another part of him was stung by the simple fact that he'd gotten his hopes up only to have them smashed down mercilessly and almost mindlessly; she hadn't known what she was doing to him and he wasn't the kind to tell her. So she'd done what she felt was natural and it'd burned him.

But as much as her singular rejection hurt, the part that burned him the most was the weight added onto his already burdened shoulders by the almost constant rejections he received from all of the girls he considered datable. And to make it worse, there were some girls that had, for a time, wanted to be with him. But he hadn't considered them datable and so he'd rejected him, instead reaching for what he had thought was 'higher fruit'. And so there was a level of guilt in that, a mean stain on his generally history.

Those weren't the main focus that burned him, however. Rather, it was the simple fact that he, and all his family and a lot of his friends, believed he should be getting these girls. In their eyes, and in his on occasion, he was a very worthy bachelor and desirable in his own way. An All American Athlete, a Scholar Athlete and a Scholar in general, he had many titles and awards that gave him prestige among his academic and athletic peers. And among his social peers he was known as a kind young man, but al-so a man who could defend himself and, if the occasion called for it, use force upon others to achieve his own ends. He had the reputation of an intimidating but pleasant young man.

And for looks, he wasn't half bad. A fair sized stomach, which seemed small to him some mornings and large on others, broad and muscular shoulders, a built chest, a good amount larger than the average size, and arms that were bigger than most mens, a pair of thick and powerful legs, made up his body's physical composition. His eyes, sometimes light blue, other times dark blue, contrasted with his curly and moderately long hair, which was dark brown, to create a startling blue color that'd gotten the attention of a few girls in the past. His face was as broad as his body. His jaw, wider than it should have been for his face, looked formal only because his hair spread outwards, making his forehead seem bigger than it was. His nose was moderately big, a little larger than most, and his lips were thin but soft, or so a girl had told him before.

He was a gentle man when he wanted and a fierce one when he needed to be. He could compete with the best athletically or academically, he was a fair artist in his own way and he was aware of all of this. But, to his shame, he couldn't find a girl that was datable and hadn't already cast him into the area of brother or close friend. Or they simply had no interest in him whatsoever.

And he didn't know why. Sometimes in his desire to find a cause, a logical and understandable reason behind it, he'd come to the conclusion that it was because of his weight. Or because of the slight deformity in his teeth, which made it so that one of his front teeth had grown a little in front of its pair. Or because of the beard that grew too rapidly for him to keep it fully in check unless he shaved every morning, which was a conquest he'd never found the motivation to take up.

He'd found a million small flaws in himself and torn himself up over each and every one of them. A few had been solved through this method and he'd become a far more hygenic for it. But most of them were things he couldn't change in the short amount of time he felt inclined to do so. He'd lost weight and was trimming out (even if there was a gut still there), he'd gotten more muscular, learned to keep his beard trimmed and wash his hair more regularlary (and to comb it for that matter), but still the flaws were there. And no matter how many he did solve, there were always more.

And that shame built up more and more until sometimes he could use it in sports, exploding to the point of reaching new heights of athletic ability. But other times he couldn't use it and instead it just simmered until finally he exploded in other ways, whether expressing himself through his art or just by going out and working himself to exhaustion.

But his father saw it, he believed, and that ashamed him as well. To show weakness, to anyone, was something he hated. Sometimes girls liked to see the weakness but he could rarely express himself to them. And to the few that he had, it'd never ended well. He always grew attached and they never did. And now, as he stalked to his room, he felt the emotions building up again.

And he didn't know what to do with the knowledge about himself. He knew everything he'd thought, everything described about him, and yet none of it changed anything. Knowing something to be true and being able to change it are different things, a lesson he'd learned and hated long ago, and it was the same in this case; he knew what was wrong with him, or a problem with him, but he couldn't seem to find a way to change it.

And so he sat, in solitude in his room, typing and reading and thinking and writing and drawing and trying to find a way to deal with it effectively. But none came to him. And so he listened to a song, a random one of many that he liked, and eventually, finally, the feelings passed. Suppressed. Hidden in the dark recesses of his mind, where he'd hidden other things. And he laid over to go to sleep, knowing that they would find their way to the surface again.

But as he closed his eyes and sleep took over, the waves of weariness picking away at his wall of consciousness slowly until finally it all just gave away in a sudden but fully unspectacular moment, his romantic and vivid imagination took hold and he dreamed of scenarios where all went well. And, as always, when he awoke the next morning, it was with a small smile on his face, a small but bright hope in his heart.

Author's Note

I wrote this in about half an hour so it's probably riddled with spelling problems, grammatical errors and punctuation problems... so don't be too critical of those :P

Reviews

[MeathooksMcGee]

Character has already figured out the first part about women, that being, they don't know what they want. Can't wait for the second chapter when he realizes that sometimes he has to direct a women in a gentle way and tell her what she wants.

[CapnKujo]

Haha thanks. I wrote this on a whim so if there is a second chapter, I'll try to put it up as quickly as possible!