A Somewhat Awkward Meet-Cute

A nervous glance. An uncomfortable shift. A tentative smile, quickly but not-so-subtly wiped away by feigned interest in whatever we were just talking about. I live in fear of these things. Well...fear is a strong word, how about; dread. They manifest my uncontrollable desires, my urge for connection. But that's not what girls want. Girls want a man who's calm and composed, strong, yet kind, firm, yet soft, intelligent, yet humble. But how can I have those things? I can't, is the simple answer.

Cassie is very beautiful; or at least I assume so. You never know these days what might be hiding behind the mask of filters and phones. Even the unaltered still image is deceptively misleading. It takes a moment and makes it an island, but moments are not a string of islands. No, more like a peninsula, a peninsula without end. There may be an isthmus or two here and there, to be sure, but never are they surrounded by ocean on all sides. A moment exists in relation to what has come before and what will come after.

For example, take the photo I sent her of me at the beach riding a massive wave not three weeks ago (spectacular photo, by the way), poised at the peak of the wave like a triumphant king riding into battle. Calm and composed. Strong and firm. The board my chariot, the sea-spray my royal steed, the blood-shot sunset clouds my entourage. The photo is a lie. It would be completely ruined in her eyes if she knew what had proceeded to happen: let's just say that my chariot was no longer occupied.

Still, the mask of herself that she presents to the world is beautiful, and kind, and funny, and just damn perfect. And so is mine: just the way I like it. I mean, all I care about is the mask, because that's all I interact with. The actual people controlling these little plastic figurines is as good as dead to me. She is as good as dead to me.

I like texting (if you couldn't already tell). I can spend hours crafting the perfect response to anything she says. It'll be flirtatious but not excessively crude. Just enough to make her crack a smile, maybe even laugh out loud. Of course, you have to balance your responses. I don't want her thinking I'm desperate, or lonely, or arrogant, or...

I think I'm in love with the idea of her.

But then, the strangest thing happened. I had returned from the beach, and my hair was in a state of revolt. If you're not from down under, here in the southern hemisphere, Christmas means summer, and summer means beach, and beach means surfing. It doesn't take a sweater to be sweating. Anyways, the birds nest that could have been mistaken for my hair did give off an air of casualness and it wasn't atrociously unattractive. So, naturally, I snapped a picture of myself. The caption was 'down at sullies'. Sullie's was a beachfront café near where I go surfing. Great chips.

Cassie replied almost immediately; always a confidence booster. But it was the content of her reply that positively drained the blood from my face. It was a text I had dreaded seeing, one which could send any teenage boy into a fit of social anxiety at the mere suggestion of the possibility of its arising on the plane of contingency we call the real world: 'Oh, same! Wanna meet up?'. I once again felt that weird churning sensation deep in my stomach that you get whenever something terrible is about to happen. It was like watching Jaws for the first time all over again. I messaged back in the only socially acceptable manner, hands trembling, 'sure, where you at'. Keeping it casual on the outside, I had to fight my fingers for each letter.

Now I know what you're probably thinking. Isn't spending time with a pretty girl, alone, any teenage boy's dream? Well, look here. You must understand that I had no idea who this person was. All I knew was the exterior, the mask, the veil, and pulling back a veil to reveal a blinding light can cause something I like to call pain. I had spent my days in the dark, and frankly wasn't up to it. But I was more terrified of the certain knowledge that I was not who I said I was, and that now I would be found out. I was a fool to think I could keep this lie, but I loved the lie, and I loved to lie. Now, I have no problem with hypocrisy. I could effortlessly maintain absolute honesty with one person and turn into the devil with another. But now I had to meet the woman behind the mask, and she had to meet the sinner behind the saint she thought she knew. I love quality time with females as much as the next guy, but please, anyone but her. Anyone but her, I'll-

And there I saw her. She was lying on the grass hills next to Sullie's sunbathing. She looked different to the plastic princess I knew and loved, and yet unmistakably her. Now she was sitting. Now she was looking around, and now she was waving. At me.

Well, here goes nothing, I told myself. I waved back and walked over, putting on a gentle smile. At least my face could function as a mask, even if my phone had passed into obsoleteness.

"Hey."

"Hey." Well, this was awkward. "Well, this is awkward." What do I say, what do I say? "Wanna...get some chips? My Christmas present."

"Sure!" She smiled. "A day too early, eh?" Oh, that smile.

So, we ate chips on the beach (great chips, by the way) as the sun set over the horizon, and we talked. Cassie plans to study physics. I had never known that. We hadn't even known the university each of us planned to go to. I remember at some point in conversation she had asked me how long it took me to get to the beach from where I lived, and I said something like, "Well, it depends how fast you're moving." A physics joke I had just made up, and yeah, super lame. For a moment there was an uncomfortable silence, and I thought it was all over. Then she turned to me with a puzzled expression.

"What? I don't...get it."

At this point I just had to try to recover the situation as best I could. "'Cos, you know, like...time is relative and stuff."

She absolutely burst into laughter. It was the most incredible thing. I was almost offended at first. I mean, what was so funny about what I had just said? But I looked over at her, giggling uncontrollably, and like a deadly infection I began to giggle as well.

"It depends how fast you're moving!" She wheezed. She threw her gaze to the sky, fully laughing now. The sun had nearly submerged itself, casting radiant orange over her whole body. "But! But of course, dumbass!" She shook her head, furiously trying to control herself. "Time is rel-" That was about as far as she got.

In retrospect, she was probably laughing at me rather than with me; just a guess. But then and there, in that isolated moment, like a majestic portrait, it didn't matter. All I could feel was joy. She was happy.

A nervous glance. An uncomfortable shift. A tentative smile, and before I knew it the chips were gone and our hands clasped together.

She was so...different from what I had expected. So odd. It's not stereotypically attractive to be odd, but there was just something about her mannerisms, the way she flicked her hair, her curious accent, the jolting pauses in her speech as she tried to think of what to say next. That was something that could never be captured in a text. She was saying it. It was coming out of her mouth, with her hilarious, goofy, cute facial expressions.

Her small hand was so warm, and her breath so fresh, and her amber eyes so soft. So...

"Merry Christmas," she whispered.

I think I'm in love with her. I wasn't expecting that.