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WillDive4Plants:
I can't leave the gym. My best friend’s little girl is in child care, and I told her she could run do some errands while I sit here in case she gets paged for a kiddo 911 ????? I was hoping you and I could just chill in the café like friends. That's discreet, right?
RomanticSadistLL:
Not quite discreet. Long story, but if this thing between us goes anywhere, I'll explain the whole thing. I promise. One day soon, I'll meet you in the café. Then you'll meet truly discreetly, where we can have longer.
Ominous… but at least he doesn’t seem upset I’m not leaving to meet him somewhere else. I don’t really know what to say, so I just send an acknowledgement.
WillDive4Plants:
Noted.
And then the disappointment I was so worried about him feeling decides to come hang out on my shoulders instead.
I discover my desire to meet him in person after talking to him constantly for the past week is slightly stronger than the debilitating anxiety I feel overtake me whenever I try to imagine what it will be like actually looking him in the eye, speaking to him, hearing his voice and it being directed at me. Add in the idea of him actually touching me—like, at all, not even sexually—and I hardly recognize myself.
I may be a lot of things, but I have never in my life been shy when it comes to talking to anyone. My mom used to say I’ve never met a stranger, because even when I was little, I’d start up a conversation with anyone within hearing distance. Still to this day, when I’m at the grocery store for example, I can’t help but start chatting with whoever is next to me. Whether it’s to tell them whatever they have in their cart is delicious, or maybe to give them a random compliment—anything. Who knows? Maybe it’s a nervous tic or something, a way to avoid awkward silence. But I don’t feel nervous when I talk with anybody; I really can’t explain it.
So it’s very strange for me to feel such anxiety about just trying to form words in his presence.
Or maybe it’s different. Maybe it’s not anxiety and instead it’s… anxiousness? In my mind, those two things are not the same. Anxiety always has a negative connotation to it, while anxiousness seems more like you’re just dying to do something, you’re ready, chomping at the bit, can’t sit still because you are so riled up to do whatever it is that’s giving you that feeling. Not necessarily a positive connotation, but not definitively negative either.
Which makes more sense, as it’s definitely disappointment I’m feeling that he won’t come to the café to meet. So, I try to reassure him, put his mind at ease that being seen with me will not be a big deal, hardly noteworthy, in an attempt to change his decision.
WillDive4Plants:
I’m no one special at the gym. Everyone just knows me as that quiet author chick. I have named a couple of characters after some of the café employees for keeping me fed though LOL. But I’m no one you’d have to worry about being seen in public with.
Side Note: do you do personal training?
I ask once again, because he seems to always avoid answering. It would give us the perfect excuse to be seen together at the gym. His reply makes me laugh, because I totally didn’t think of it the way he did.
RomanticSadistLL:
So let's see… Sit with the girl who everyone knows writes kink novels ?? The point of being discreet in my case is to avoid any association with the lifestyle. But as I said, that’s a discussion for a later date.
To answer your question, I have trained people before, but in general, not really.
Why do you ask, little one? In your picture, you look amazing. But you haven't sent like… a lingerie pic or anything, soooo… ??
I giggle like a damn schoolgirl at the compliment and at the fact that he’s fishing for a naughty picture.
Something I haven’t taken in a few years, not just since I’ve been single.
WillDive4Plants:
LMAO! I said “across.” Like acrooooss. Not *with* haha
And they don't know I write kink, just romance. They probably think Hallmark channel ??
And! I don’t even know your name. Of course I haven’t sent those ??
“Ha! Take that, Mr. Fisherman. I can do that too,” I tell my phone, forgetting I’m sitting in public for a second, and I glance up to make sure no one is looking at me funny. When I see I’m alone in my corner of the café, I suddenly have the urge to be a little brave. When was the last time I took a photo that wasn’t in either workout clothes, comfy clothes I write in, or whatever I’ve been wearing for a week straight while under my cloud of depression?
