I don’t know what is wrong with me. I’ve just finished teaching my weekly Beginner/Intermediate tap class at Koresh but I’m having trouble breathing. I feel, in fact, like I might throw up, which would be a true shame because I’m wearing my favorite black dress. For a brief second, I consider bolting—I could make it back to parking garage in about 90 seconds—but there’s a man waiting for me in Rittenhouse Square and I’ve promised to meet him by the goat statue in the southwest corner of the park at 2:00pm.
It’s one thing to feel finally ready to date again. It’s another to give yourself a five minute makeover in a dance studio restroom and meet a complete stranger for coffee. (Especially when said stranger writes a blog of his own and you’ve spent the past 24 hours trying to suss out his political views.)
I force myself to soldier on but I can’t help feeling out of practice. I don’t know what to say. I can’t remember what he looks like. I’m terrified that this might turn into another weeping fest like my last date. And, because obsessing over things ranks chiefly amongst my favorite hobbies, I’m also terrified that I might fall in love with him and really that would be rather inconvenient because I don’t want to jump right into another relationship, and I’m about to buy a house and what if he won’t want to live with me in the city and will I have to give up some of my home office space for him if he does?
(Because yes, obviously these things are going to have to be decided within the next 30-45 minutes.)
Sadly the rest will have to wait, as I’m due to lecture rites of passage in about 45 minutes and haven’t even made my iced coffee yet.