I don't negotiate with terrorists or dates in coffee shops.

...and it was all going so well.

Not really, though. Awkward is a more accurate description for the way I've been feeling for the last twenty minutes. Awkward and hyper are not a sexy combination. Who the hell goes on a date at a coffee shop, anyway? Oh wait. Nevermind. How very hypocritical of me. We all remember Heather, although accidentally meeting someone at a coffee shop and planning to meet someone at a coffee shop are completely different realms of reality. I like the way that happened. It was all completely unexpected and magical and real and strange and fun. This is not any of those. This feels like a job interview in a public venue. This feels like work and I'm not even getting paid for it - I'm volunteering for this bullshit. Pro bono? Oh, hell no. What the hell am I doing here? Here's the concept I'm working with: you meet someone (context of who/when/why/how unimportant) and you decide to get together to learn more about each other. The setting for that could have easily been anything, but that's not really the point. The point is just spending some time with someone to determine if it's worth investing more in some form of relationship. It's an improvised plan with the following step to be determined in play. Only the results are so uninspiring that I would rather think about something else entirely. It wasn't a complete disaster. In fact, up until about thirty seconds ago, I was rather enjoying myself. I was enjoying the company and enjoying the moment and enjoying life.

Yeah, so what the hell just happened?

I hate awkward silences. This particular awkward silence was immediately proceeded by my companion's laughter and a moment before that an off color remark which I didn't appreciate nearly as much - which I appreciated even less after the laughter. In fact, it is taking all of my not so inconsiderable strength and self-control to not throw the remainder of my latte directly into someone's face right now. So, I'm silently attempting to control the rage roaring through my veins. I inherited this from my Germanic ancestors. This unspeakable and furious blood of mine. It screams through me as it pushes it way repeatedly through my mind and heart. I am seconds from reducing this entire building to smoking rubble. My super power is about to activate and the effects will be catastrophic. I bite my lip and try to imagine being somewhere else entirely. I imagine that instead of this situation, I'm still in that other one. The Mustard Seed Jam House. I remember the painted wood tables that were lopsided and irregular. I remember the bizarre and lousy attempts at art that sparsely decorated the plain brick, windowless walls of the basement coffee shop. I remember the stained, ratty chairs and how absurdly soft and rough the cushions were and how disturbing that juxtaposition of textures felt against my cheek. I don't remember drinking coffee and I don't remember how I got there or why I left. I think I'm reasonably calm enough to break the awkward silence, only I don't want to now. I really don't care. It can last forever if it wants. I don't care. I wish I was sitting in a shitty coffee shop in Pennsylvania drinking day old coffee out of a mug I brought myself.

"What are you thinking about?"
"Someone I used to know."
"A special someone? Like an ex?"
"Sort of. I guess I was just remembering a different time in my life. I just suddenly remembered it. Sorry about that."
"What were you thinking about?"
"I'm thinking... I'm not ready for this."
"Did you just break up?"
"No. That was a long time ago. It's not about that."
"What's wrong then?"
"This just doesn't feel right. It doesn't feel like anything."
"Wow."
"Besides, that thing you said... If this had been going well, which it sort of was, that offhand comment would have ruined and killed it anyway."
"I didn't even mean it."
"Yeah, you did. Maybe you didn't mean anything by it, but you thought it and said it. You made a conscious decision to bring it into play - a terrible decision, by the way - and here we are in the aftermath. Also, it should be noted, that sort of comment provokes the very worst of my nature."
"You're acting strangely, but I wouldn't describe it that way."
"I guess we do change, afterall. That's interesting."
"I have no idea what you're talking about."
"I have to go."
"Really? Just like that?"
"Just like this."
"Wait a minute. This is crazy."
"I agree. It's crazy. Me too, probably. Definitely."
"Ok, you're not crazy and I'm really sorry about what I said."
"Really?"
"Really."
"Good."
"Alright, so?"
"So? Too late."

I know. What the hell was said? That's what you're asking, isn't it? What the hell was said? You want that missing piece of the conversation. You need that context to understand what's happening in the story. You want to know my motivations and the cause to all the effect. That's true irony, only in this case the characters know something the audience doesn't. To be perfectly honest, I'd share it with you if it meant giving it completely to you and keeping none of it for myself. If I could do that - if I could give the knowledge of that moment away and forget it - I would. Since I can't, I'll just quarantine the damage and keep it from spreading and infecting anyone else.

I can still taste the poison on my lips. It's my fault, in a way. I wasn't actually looking for this sacred connection or even looking to date anyone, even casually. Fuck, I don't know. I guess it was just this moment of weakness and poor judgment that I suffered and then suffered again in turn. I like being single. It's not so much being single, it's being completely dependent upon only myself. I have been completely dependent on other people for nearly all my life. I am just barely beginning to make my own way and my very own life. I want to learn to know myself. If I can't do that, how is anyone else ever supposed to do any more than fail at it as well? Besides, the more I learn about myself, the more I surprise myself nearly every day. It's more than my sudden ability to tolerate and even enjoy the presence of jalapenos - but that's part of it. It's like discovering this entire world you thought you knew completely and intimately. Well, I don't know shit. I don't know the first thing about what kind of person I really am. I don't know what I want, need, or deserve. I have no idea why I do some of the things that I do. Until only recently, I would never have considered myself either stupid or brave. But life presents you with moments that end up defining you - and it's not a sum of experiences that equal the whole of your character, but those moments do reflect the things you can't see or know without some way of converting them from abstract concepts into concrete proof of life.

I am alive today in the worst possible way, because I have only begun to understand what that even means. Now I just have to remember that moment and build on it. I can't negotiate how I feel. I don't want to and I won't try.

It's just funny how a stupid, careless moment can completely change everything you thought you knew. It's ridiculous how in just a few seconds the reality of a situation can reveal itself in one silly, inappropriate, and terrible remark.