I am going on a date this coming Saturday evening. A dinner. On an American-Italian fine-dining place. My first date in years, I think.

The lady - she's been my friend for over a decade, counting. We've grown up over time - learned things, graduated from college, worked, been heartbroken repeatedly. And yet here we are, perhaps still unsure on some things - but a little wiser, now.

I'm not really sure what to say about her. She's this strong, independent woman - kind, funny, and oh dear God, intelligent and very witty. She is not someone who you would call "stereotypically pretty", but she has something about her that makes her beautiful. Endearingly, beautiful. She talks with sense, write passionately, insightfully; and just like me, she gets lost in the wonders of books, movies, and prose.

 

Of all the girls that I became friends with when I was young, she was the only one who I watched turn into a woman right in front of my eyes. I didn't keep any female friends I've had back then - only her. I find peace when I talk to her; I can tell her things I know my other mundanely juvenile friends will not understand. She knows how to keep a conversation alive and lets you know and feel that she really is connecting with you and speaking to you - and listening, like she's clinging on to dear life for it. She gives me this curious impression that she could see through me, see my soul in all its fragility and resilience; and the wonderfully surprising thing is, I let her.

To tell you the truth, I wanted to be with her from time to time. I remember having been attracted to her a lot of times in high school, and college years (even though we haven't seen each other and got together ever since, what, high school graduation?). There was even a point - wait, were even points - that I got so close to admitting to her those feelings and see for myself what will happen next. But, I don't know if that was love, in the past - and I don't think so, considering I was young and always, always stupid ages before.

Then again, when I talk to her now, read her written thoughts, see her still-life images captured strikingly and with her face smiling impeccably with her eyes, I keep saying to myself: I don't want her to belong to any other man. I oftentimes wonder why no chap up until this moment asked her to be his girlfriend, considering she's a catch, but I constantly say to myself let her be with someone worthy of her. At this point in my life, unforeseen - the thought comes again: I like her, and I don't think I'd want to see her with another man - why don't I myself give it a try, to see where it goes?

I think the reason I didn't invite her out in the past is because I don't think of myself as man enough to, you know, treat her someplace away. But this time, I think I am. Still not good enough, but acceptable enough. I could stand in front of her brimming with self-worth now.

I know I am not in love with her - but I am extremely, extremely drawn to her. Maybe this dinner we'd be having will bring an answer to a question I have. After all, who would be sure of what they think and feel of another person when they haven't seen each other in years.




Come whatever happens that imminent night, I know I'll be glad we're having that dinner. It's been years, we'll never run out of things to say.