Be Positive

Good god, was it supposed to feel like this?

Bran shifts nervously in his seat, peeling the damp label off of his beer. He’d never tried anything like this before, never had the opportunity, the courage, or the technology – as a child of the 80’s social media was in its infancy when he was finishing college. He was awkward and flirty during his MySpace heyday, and he was still bewildered at how these dating apps could possibly capture that unbridled exuberance of those days.

As he pulls out his phone he scans about the restaurant. His seat at the bar gave him a terrific angle of the door, the patio, and the bifurcated dining rooms – he was hoping to spot Vanessa before she spotted him.

His phone, of course, has no new messages, text or otherwise. The sweat began to bead on the back of his neck; was this a scam? A setup? Did she see him and bail when the moment of in-person meeting finally came to a head? Bran’s hand ran across his forehead. Damp. Ugh. He hoped he wasn’t really sweating hard. Melissa never made him sweat like this.

“If you’re finished peeling I can take that.”

Bran snaps to attention, his bone-deep worry cocoon finally breaking, and sees the friendly bartender who had served him. He is tall, with a thick head of black hair that Bran would kill for, and he’s wearing a light blue denim shirt over a plain white t-shirt, with dark brown slacks. Bran looks at his hands, and the shreds of label that litters his space on the countertop. He smiles embarrassedly. “Yes, please, thank you.”

The bartender, grabs the bottle, runs a damp rag over the curled white flakes, somehow pulls up another beer bottle and in a fluid motion uses his large black opener to pop the top. Bran is mesmerized by how rhythmic the movements are, but notices quickly that he didn’t order another beer, let alone a session ale.

“It looks like you need a second, my guy,” says the bartender with an empathic smile. “The beer’s on me, and I switched you from your brown to a session to you’d still be sharp when you date arrives.”

“If she arrives,” Bran says softly.

“Hey, be positive,” the bartender says as he leans against the railing, “You wouldn’t even believe me when I say how many times I’ve seen this exact scene play out from all genders. It’ll work out, trust me.”

Be positive, Bran thinks tersely. He feels an old ache flair in the pit of his belly, and he tries to suppress the accompanying memories that want to spurt out like a dropped firehouse.

“You need anything else?” He barely hears the feminine voice, like a whisper in a crowded theater, and begins to peel this new label.

“Nah, I’m good. Just hanging with my friend here.”

“Ah, in that case I’m punching out and joining him.”

Wait, what?

Bran looks up and sees Vanessa in the same white t-shirt/dark brown slacks combo, but she’s wearing a tight unbuttoned flannel over her outfit. Her entire ensemble looks tight, showcasing her hourglass figure. Her dark brown hair is pulled up in a tight bun, and a black band around her head, some sleek thin strands of silver making a trail from her left temple to the bun. Bran feels a flare in his stomach, then his chest, then it explodes in his mind, an eruption of emotion that had been missing in his life for 15 years – he was face to face with his crush.

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” she says with a coy smile, “I just wanted to see if you were as cute in person as you were online.”

The other bartender walks away with an audible groan but makes eye contact with Bran and gives a quick wink.

This felt like middle school, like high school, like a party where you bump into the most beautiful girl in the world and instead of being irritated that you got booze on her shoes, she smiles a smile that could make coal miners wear sunglasses. The butterflies had taken flight.

“Well, who could blame you?” says Bran, relishing this open flirtation, “…but do you think I am?”

She pretends to think as she walks slowly around the countertop, her right index finger playfully tapping her lips. “Hmmmm….”

Vanessa quickly draws close to Bran – he can feel her breath on his neck, slow and steamy – and sniffs his cologne from the base of his neck to the back of his ear. She takes her finger from her mouth and moves it smoothly through his hair, down his jawline, and then takes both of her hands to trace his frame, from his neck down to his broad shoulders. Bran can feel himself staring at her eyes, more green than brown swirling in the hazel, but he can’t stop. He gulps cartoonishly, and she laughs airily.

“Not cute, that’s for sure,” she says with the smile of a predator sizing up her prey, “More dashing, I’d say.”

His heart won’t stop BEATING so hard in his chest and the butterflies flutter against his stomach’s lining and all he wants to do is grab the back of her head and pull her in for –

“Would you like to stay here, or go someplace else?” Vanessa says, “Though the bartenders here are top notch.”

After free cocktails at the restaurant (and curry so good it caused each of their eyes to shut in pure bliss) they walked around the block. Maybe more than a block? Bran lost track of time, savoring this time together in person after two months of chatting over a dating app and then texting and then calling. The digital wall had finally been removed and he felt giddy like a teen.

The last time he felt this way was when he and Melissa first started dating during their junior year at college. Flirty, fun, silly, all the things that ground down and then disappeared during their 15-year marriage. But this, being with Vanessa now, it brought it all back.

“Hey, can I see something?” says Vanessa, her hair down, flowing and wavy and tempting.

Bran looks over at her and sees that same playful grin she showcased at the restaurant. “Sure, I’m game.”

She giggles softly, sweetly, mischievously, and yanks on his jacket sleeve, pulling his hand into the cool night air. She slides her hand down his forearm, past his wrist, and nestles her fingers between his. Bran feels a rush of heat explode from his chest to his face.

“Ah, just as I thought,” she says, “it’s a perfect fit.”

Inside, Bran swoons. The thinks, Can a man swoon over a woman? It takes him only a fraction of a second to accept the truth: yes, he can.

Bran takes his other hand out of his pocket and plunges it into her thick dark waves, the feel of it luxurious, and makes his way to the back of her head. He has no idea if this is what you’re supposed to do on a first date, and he doesn’t care. He leans in for a kiss, and Vanessa accepts him with luscious lips.

They’re embracing now, their tongues searching like college students in the dark, and he knows – he can feel it in his marrow – that this kiss won’t be the only thing that finishes tonight.