Scene: a bar at an artist colony, Lincoln Heights
She had skin like honey and a shine that resided like a warm glow on her face. I’d met her online. She also, had a few not quite secrets as well as friends in common.
“I was thinking either tonight we could go to art walk or we could have a drink at this bar at the artist colony I used to live at.” I texted her from work.
“Either way, you pick!”
I was really looking forward to meeting her. I don’t date girls that often. Not because I don’t want to or I have a preference. It’s just because while I’m normally fairly confident… let’s face it I still am scared shitless of girls.
We got a couple of beers and sat on the couches underneath a projection screen.
“There’s a story about that.”
“There are many stories. The people here are amazing. The Brewery is an experience in itself.”
I told her my tale about how I ended up there. Perhaps in a later post, I will tell you as well.
“What is it you’re looking for?”
“Stability. Independence. To travel.”
“What’s holding you back?”
Ah the telltale sign of an artist. I know it all too well.
“I’m going to Germany this year.” I told her nonchalantly.
“May tentatively. I’m also trying to take part in an opportunity to collaborate with other artists on a project in New Orleans in March. Travel is there. The opportunities are too. You just have to keep your eyes open to the possibilities and not be afraid to grab them when they come about.”
We talked about happiness. We talked about despair. I was ever so nervous. She was ever so lovely.
“Pardon me if this is too forward, but I want to see you again.” I said partway through the evening.
“I want to see you again too.”
We had a great time. She was a sweetheart. She drove me home around midnight. As we were leaving, I had a feeling something was off but it had nothing to do with her. After I walked into my apartment I felt it too.
Shit. Where the fuck is my phone?