“The very essence of romance is uncertainty.” – Oscar Wilde

My date with Patrick is tonight. We agreed to meet for dinner at 7. The butterflies are fluttering like mad. I am excited. I am nervous.

I am not a girly girl, and yet I kept changing clothes to decide what to wear. (Usually it is whatever: jeans and T-shirt.)

I keep telling myself: calendar date, not date date (as he put it), but these butterflies are practically running a marathon ballet here.

I read over our emails, I think about our phone call… what will it be like to meet in person?

By the end of our phone call, I felt relaxed talking to him, but now the thought of meeting him in an hour or so is throwing me back into feeling in complete disarray. So many thoughts! Feelings! Questions! What-ifs!

And I wonder if he is in his car now, driving here, having these same thoughts too.

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