PERSONAL ESSAY
A Casual Walk
An entry from a girl’s journal
September 4, 2022
Yesterday, I went on a walk with a friend.
Actually, it was the night before yesterday that he’d texted asking if I wanted to go, but even though I did, it wasn’t easy for me to go out at 1:30 in the morning, so we couldn’t.
Well, if there wasn’t the whole security guard drama to deal with, I would certainly have gone. I was awake and saw his text the moment it came, but my willingness to go would have been more so because, honestly, I am crazy about this boy right now.
It seems I’ve lost the ability to refuse him, regardless of how big or small the request is. Besides, it was the first time he’d asked me to go somewhere with him, just the two of us.
I was freaking out once we confirmed a time and place to meet up the next day. My gut was in knots, the lump in my throat seemed to grow as 9:00 PM on the clock neared, and let’s not mention what was happening with my heart. I adore night walks for the relaxing weather and the tranquility of the dark, quiet streets. It’s also nice to have company, but never had I anticipated being that anxious when the person would be the guy who’s been messing with my head for months now.
The monsoon is crazy right now. A part of me wished for rain to become a convenient excuse to cancel, but the romance-deprived heart in my chest was yearning — I just wanted to spend alone time with Mon amour, even if it was a random walk that probably wouldn’t last more than an hour or two.
My imagination couldn’t help but picture a series of cute, rom-com stuff that could happen while we were alone together:
Hand-holding while walking? Long, honest conversations while enjoying the pleasant night breeze? Silly jokes? A spontaneous confession of my feelings in the heat of the moment? A goodbye hug or kiss?
I was mushy already.
With every ounce of courage I could gather in the moments I had to myself, I left my place at 8:50. I headed towards our meet-up spot — a 5-minute walk from each of our places — with a heart pounding at breakneck speed and feet moving at a snail’s pace.
I had never done this before. It was only in fantasies I had the courage to be alone with a boy who was a fantasy. I called a friend. She knew everything. I was hoping she would help me calm down a bit, but the network had chosen the very moment to not work.
I don’t know if I arrived a few seconds late, or we arrived together, but just as I was about to text him I’m here, I saw him walking towards me on the same sidewalk, and oh heavens above.
I was knocked off my frigging pants. He looked so gorgeous — so delicious. I’d say he always does, but something was particularly irresistible in that moment —
I was meeting a friend — one who had recently transitioned to an unhealthy, obsessive crush; and was also the guy who activated all these romantic, admittedly, lascivious desires — at a late hour, and it was going to be just the two of us, that gave me all the butterflies.
He walked towards me until we reached each other. Mischief in his eyes and a small, flirtatious curve on his lips, he attempted to walk past me like I was a passerby, while both his hands were tucked nonchalantly into the pockets of his black hoodie, the sleeves of which were creased up to his elbows.
My boy never gets tired of pulling mischief.
He’s beautiful, always up to mischief, and he always makes eye contact.
An unintended smile on my lips and he turned to walk in the same direction as mine.
He was here. We were together, walking side by side. Deep down, I hadn’t stopped freaking out, but it might have been the reality of his presence next to me that— I don’t know.
He began the conversation in his usual, slightly cringe-inducing, manner. I think I managed without succumbing to the pressure of trying to come off a certain way:
“You’re just another friend. I don’t feel anything else about you.”
It has happened so many times — I try to safeguard what I need to, but in doing so, I become a different person with him, which makes me feel bad later. So, I had decided two things: i) no chickening out, and ii) no resorting to fake responses.
I swear the teeny tiny confidence wasn’t one hundred percent genuine (courtesy: my analysis paralysis), but it wasn’t a total façade either. This, I take pride in not screwing up that night. I’m glad I could be myself, nice and kind, without letting the secret crush dictate how I treated him.
“Without even realizing it, you taught me a lot of things. Not only about life, but how it’s okay to feel something extraordinary about someone.”
- Unknown
It was only yesterday that I learned how fast he naturally walks. Long and bouncy steps.
I loved listening to his stories of random buildings, the streets, the people, anything that passed by us. It was super adorable every time while sharing a story, he went on to demonstrate exactly how something had happened in the past. He wasn’t reluctant in talking about trivial and serious aspects of his life. He was an open book. No half-heartedness, all his thoughts laid out bare.
His authenticity was seductive. His body language said that he was comfortable around me. Relaxed, unburdened, and completely at ease. Like a baby.
He’s a good talker but whether all of it was a natural disposition or the sheer enjoyment of our walk, that night revealed a side of him I’d only seen glimpses of.
There was a new feeling inside me. The French poems I’d written in May — they were entirely about our bodies together. All this time, I’d been wearing a fangirl’s glasses that blurred everything behind the handsomeness of the actor. Everything that had initially led to this puppy love seemed so small now.
Following that night, I just wanted to be needed. I wanted to be the girl he chooses over his boys. I wanted to be his special sanctuary, the person who comforts him on bad days. He was so precious. Other girls could be reckless with his heart.
At that moment, I didn’t think I could ever be, if given the chance.
“Before I die, I want to be somebody’s favorite hiding place, the place they can put everything they know they need to survive, every secret, every solitude, every nervous prayer, and be absolutely certain I will keep it safe. I will keep it safe.”
- Andrea Gibson
