Meeting was a complete disaster. Okay, not really. But I totally forgot my wallet at home this morning so I couldn’t by myself a scone. Disaster! Honestly, I don’t know if they even sell scones so I’m being overly dramatic about nothing. Sorry. I did have enough cash for a coffee, actually a hazelnut latte. Yum!

I arrived a few minutes before he did. I’ll use the male pronouns since we both were in boy mode. I had gotten off work about ten minutes before I arrived. I wanted a chance to sit and collect my thoughts before this meeting took place. I also needed a few minutes to myself just to veg out a bit. Part of me was hoping he would have canceled on me, but he walked in, waved, and proceeded to the counter to by himself a coffee.

Soon thereafter, he joined me at my table as I fidgeted nervously with my phone. I’m horrible about that. It’s a nervous tic, one that I wish would go away, but it’s part of my anxiety. I function at work because I’m in control, most of the time. It’s a familiar place and I have a certain expertise – please don’t laugh at me! – in my department. Sure, there are times when I’m stymied, but for the most part I know what to say and how to best direct my customers to what they need.

There at the coffeehouse, I was at a loss. This wasn’t rehearsed. I didn’t have a script to lead me into the conversation. It was a real interaction, and I so suck at them. I’m an arch-introvert, though you may not have guessed it on here, what with all the nonsense I seem to post online. I’m reclusive to a fault, preferring my own company or that of a few close friends. I’m not good at making new ones. To tell you the truth, I’m not sure how I made friends with the ones I have!

We sat there, two strangers meeting for what I’ll consider to be the first time. We waded in slowly, talking banalities for several minutes, mostly about work and the colleges we attended. We discussed reading and the kinds of books we enjoyed. Our discussion only grazed superficially the subject we both desperately needed to talk about, but we didn’t have any privacy, a casualty of my paranoia. My bad.

Our conversation lasted maybe forty to fifty minutes before he decided he needed to leave. It wasn’t what either of us imagined this conversation would be, but I’m okay with that. I’m a cautious person, pathologically so, and I open up only after I’m comfortable with you, and I opened up a lot more than I would have liked to begin with!

I don’t know if we’ll meet again, but I’m open to it. I’ll confess that I’ve been trying to research him and his day job, to no success whatsoever. I could never be an investigator. I totally suck at it. That’s okay. Taking for granted that he’s completely honest, I hope we’ll reach a level of trust that we can dispense, to a degree, our exclusivity between out dual personas. Besides, I think a little quid pro quo is in order. He knows where I work, shouldn’t I know where he does?!

Maybe I should drop it. In addition to my paranoia, I do tend to obsess over things. I also have a habit of over thinking situations until they become so over-wrought with possibilities, mostly of the disastrous kinds, that rarely – okay, never! – come to pass. It’s part and parcel of being a writer. I spend all days imagining stories and possible plots and twists, that I can’t help myself. I don’t know how to turn me off!

So, yes the scone fiasco was a disaster, but the meeting itself was a success, in its limited way. I pray that we can learn to trust one another, and I’m talking mostly about me. I’m a nut-job, remember? I would love to have a sister to talk to about what I’ve gone through, and what she’s gone through. If I’m lucky, I hope I can meet more girls like us, and I promise to try to not be such a paranoid little twit.