It also scares the shit out of me.
I should not allow myself to have any kind of feelings for anyone right now. I don’t have a problem being alone. Relationships, as awful as they have been, are not a chronic problem for me. I have only seriously dated three people in my twenty-six years. Then, the handful of casual dates scattered in between were unsuccessful setups, or thankfully never turned into more than one or two dates.
Remington wants my honesty, soI guess that is what I will give to him. Not only because I want to, but I think he might be the first man that actually deserves it.
Lainey: I don’t even know what to say to that ...
Remington: Say that you will let me take you to dinner tomorrow night?
I blush reading his immediate response, like he was waiting for his chance to ask me out.Is he asking me out? Is it a date or just going as friends?I want to go back and overanalyze all the things he said to me and try and figure it out, but I know he’s waiting for me to answer, and I can’t sit here debating in my own head, leaving him on read for too long.
Lainey: Dinner sounds great. I should be done with work around 5.
Remington: Perfect.
Lainey: Where should I meet you?
Remington: I will pick you up at 7.
Lainey: You don’t have to do that, I don’t want you to go out of your way.
Remington: I’m picking you up at 7, Lainey. Nothing for you is out of my way.
Lainey: Okay see you tomorrow, Remington
Remington: It’s a date
A kaleidoscope of butterflies take off in my stomach as I read the exact words that confirm what I desperately wantedto know. And they make me race toward my closet, already worried about what I am going to wear.
8
Lainey
As I smooth a shimmery, copper eye shadow lightly on my eyelid, classic ’90s country playing on my phone, I glance at the time.
Shit, shit, shit!It’s 6:55 and I amnotready.
I had a total anxiety spiral about what I was going to wear even after I tried to do early prep yesterday. I didn’t want to wear anything I wore on any previous dates, which ended up making me clean out a huge bag of things to donate.Donate, not burn.It seems so stupid to get rid of tops and dresses that I genuinely like and flatter my figure, but I can’t let go of the memories attached to them. This is my time to start over, and “Lainey 2.0” is not taking bad energy into what will hopefully be good. The fire was apparently just the start—I needed a closet cleanse, too.
I had put on one of my very best dresses of all time. A sapphire-blue sundress with cap sleeves, a scooped neckline, and little pink polka dots in a delicate, almost transparent pattern all over. It was feminine, fun, soft, but also sexy. Perfect for a first date, any date in my opinion, which is why I remembered that I wore it on a date with Brett. We had gone todinner in the city when I was doing my training program for work. He didn’t even compliment me, instead gave me a scoff as we left, asking if that was really what I was going to wear to the French place he was taking me. Evidently it was not up to his standards, too casual. He had no problem taking the dress off later that night and using my body to get himself off in less than five minutes, leaving me laying in my bed alone, disappointed, and having to “compliment” myself once he left. So, yup, that dress was in theabsolutely notpile along with several other things that another woman would hopefully stumble upon in the thrift shop and create her own favorite memories in. That dress deserved happy thoughts, not morose ones.
The closet overhaul left my room in disarray, kept me up until midnight, and still hadn’t been rectified since I had a full day of work, and a final team meeting that ran later than expected. That had me rushing my hair and it turned out terrible. My curls never look good when I need them to. I am not one of those fancy YouTube girls or influencers that know all the tips and tricks to make your looks flawless in fifteen minutes—or ever. I should have called my best friend over for help, but it was too late for that now. The frustrating hair was tossed into a messy bun with a few loose curls framing my face. It was as good as it was going to get. My make-up at least was cooperating, and I didn’t ruin my eyeliner with my shaky hands. Anxiety was eating me up from the inside out as I applied my mascara, and I prayed that Remington was a few minutes late so I could finish panicking and getting dressed in Shania Twain peace.
I cranked up “Any Man of Mine” trying to hype myself up and told her that just this once “my man”could be late for this date ...not that he was my man, but wouldn’t that be something?
Lainey! Snap out of it, girl ... Shimmy your butt into an outfit,so you don’t scare the man.Good lord, even a few wandering thoughts about Remington were so distracting.
My door button buzzed just as I was going back to my closet.
“No, no, no!” I grabbed my lavender robe and tossed it on as I rushed to the door. “Hello?”
“Hey, Lainey.” Remington’s deep voice came through the speaker. “Sorry, I am a few minutes late.” I look at the clock on the wall and it literally says 7:04.
I laugh and say, “No worries, I’m still getting dressed. I will unlock the door, so just come on in when you get up here.” Then I hit the buzzer, unlocking the security door downstairs, and run to my bedroom.
I quickly find my favorite pair of skinny jeans. I don’t care if they are trendy or not, nobody can make me stop wearing them. Next I put on a cute lavender front-knotted V-neck top with lace detailing along the neckline. The floral pattern on it is muted and complements the slides that I grab from my closet. As I slip my feet into my shoes I hear the front door open and shut. Looking into the mirror above my dresser, I give myself a nod, take a deep breath, and decide on a pair of simple silver hoops.
“I can do this,” I tell my reflection.
