Tuesday, September 1, 2015

On The Possibility of a Date/Hangout

I hesitate to call anything a date, especially under the auspices of what this Sunday, presumably, will entail; a day out at the beach. To suggest a date is to suggest something more, and I view things through the lens of self-deprecating assumptions. Perhaps, it should be called hanging out. And nothing more. To suggest a date is to suggest something I've never done before, while hanging out, even though I am years detached from last doing so, has a loose familiarity with my existence.

To clarify; this upcoming Sunday is one in which I am to spend time with a girl on the beach. Why the beach? Well, dear reader, your question is an astute one, and one that I myself curse. After all, while I am a rather capable swimmer, I have not gone swimming in well over a decade, on account of not wanting to ever be shirtless in the presence of others. Indeed, just wearing shorts is something I have not done for years, and would like to continue as such, but alas, here I am, walking, I suppose, head-on into a locale of minimalist clothing. I suppose I might feel more comfortable if I had the physique of, say, Ryan Gosling, but my aesthetic of "Peter Crouch with a lopsided chest, horrible skin, and scars all along my arm" will have to suffice. Perhaps, of course, I am making something out of nothing, and as the day approaches, the event will simply become avoided and reduced to a "oh I can't make it after all" and I'll be left Sunday doing what I always do. Which is nothing.

I'm sure, either way, as Sunday approaches, anxiety will set in; about me, my looks, my personality, and how after about 5 minutes I fully expect the girl to want to abort the meet up at all costs, leaving me with an hour and 15 minute drive home covered in the coarseness of sand and curses of a tepid, worthless existence. At least, it appears for the time being, Sunday is supposed to be a nice day if one enjoys warmth and sun. The weatherman, however, does not assign a probability to social failings and existential angst. Perhaps that's a market that has yet to be tapped.

1 comment:

  1. I'm impressed you know of Peter Crouch. - AshGooner