Stepping Out

Like when I texted my mom "I feel awkward being alive" when I meant "I feel awkward being alone"

3:23 PM

On this quintessential late spring day, I re-adjust the straps of my sundress and smooth my hair in shop windows. Today, I don’t like my face, so I hide behind a pair of big, Hepburn-style sunglasses. In front of me, a very fancy lady in animal print is walking an even fancier dog with bows on its ears. I wonder if anyone else finds it odd to see a lady in animal print walking a dog in human print. To my right, pompously rich men drive neon convertibles with the hoods drawn back, accessorized with pretty young things in the passenger seat. Everything in sight costs more than it’s worth.

I’m craving sushi so I tell myself that I can simply walk into Ozumo, tell the hostess “Table for one please” and be seated. Upon being seated, I would say to the waiter “Just water” and “Thank you” and “Could I please have the spicy tuna roll?” and “No thanks” and “Just that” and then “Thank you” about a million more times. Suddenly I no longer feel like eating sushi. In fact, I don’t really feel like eating much of anything. I’m given extra time to contemplate when the fancy dog in front of me halts to attack an equally snobby-looking Pomeranian with an equally snobby-looking owner in front of the entrance. Sleek house music is playing in the background.

I see that it’s mostly empty inside Ozumo, save for an important-looking realtor-type at the bar and two couples on (First? Second?) dates, both the type of patrons who are already inadvertently making me feel out of place. All of this I determine within the thirty seconds it takes the dog-owners to peel their furballs away from each other and exchange hyaluronic filler scowls painted with $60 lipstick. I keep walking and look for a place where I can disappear.

~~~

4:12 PM

Every pretentious American shopping center has one of those French cafés that any actual French person would think is sacrilegious. I’m sitting in one of those now, pretending that people notice/don’t notice and care/don’t care that I’m sitting alone—That my sunglasses are perched precariously on the edge of the marble table, that my face is furrowed in concentration, and that my journal is five pages fuller than it was half an hour ago.

I take small bites of my raspberry Baccara, fork in my left hand, a book firmly in my right, and pretend I feel like I am supposed to be here. Not here as in Cocola Patisserie of Santana Row, but here as in Solid Ground, Planet Earth, Milky Way.

Sitting alone is strange because internally, you feel like you might be the center of attention. As if by being alone, an imaginary spotlight is switched on and shone in your direction. But in reality, you melt into the twinkling piano they play over the speakers and use your chameleon powers to camouflage against the rainbow wall of macarons behind you. And no matter how many times the teenage boy leaning against the cash register looks over at you, you tell yourself it’s because he’s checking to see if he needs to clear your plate away and not because you look like you’re a recluse who should be spending less time alone and more time with people your age.

~~~

5:39 PM

As I sit in front of this café’s floor-to-ceiling window, I write in my journal with a blue pen and address everything to you. I know that you won’t receive any of it in a way that matters, but I do it anyway. I say the same thing over and over.

I can tell funny stories and spill my guts and pretend I don’t wish I could just shut up. I can anticipate parties and pretend I have enough gall to go out of my comfort zone. I can think of us and pretend I feel more magic than I actually do. I can think of us and pretend I feel less magic than I actually do. I can write to you and pretend a failed plan doesn’t exist. I can pretend that it wouldn’t take something terrible for me to forget you. I can feel like I’m losing something and pretend it was mine to keep in the first place. I can pretend that what we have isn’t confusing. But most importantly, I can pretend that I don’t like it that way.

~~~