I rolled out of bed and, as usual, hopped in the shower.
My face still had just a few stray hairs, but I decided it was time to shave for the first time.
My thoughts were a blurry mess, my nerves buzzing, the anticipation of the day ahead gripping me so tightly my hand trembled with fear.
I was psyching myself out, imagining her pushing me away, telling me to get lost.
Her face would be etched with disappointment.
My mind wasn't exactly in a happy place—yesterday, the excitement had felt so much sweeter than this moment, when it hit me that in just a few hours, I'd be face-to-face with the girl of my dreams.In my nervousness, I managed to nick my face with the razor.
Yeah, I know, guys would tell me that happens, especially since it was my first time shaving.
Still, I couldn't help seeing signs in everything, all that nonsense people cling to when they're on edge.
By the way, the bleeding wouldn't stop for ages.
I was this close to texting her to cancel the whole thing.Finally, I pulled myself together, stopped the bleeding, splashed on some cologne, got dressed, and sat down to grab a quick breakfast.
Nothing would go down.
It was like a lump was stuck in my throat, and my mouth felt as dry as a desert from all the anxiety.
It was awful.
I stared at my phone for ages, debating whether to call and bail on our date, but I didn't have the guts—or the nerve. Pride wouldn't let me do it either.Thankfully, I had my dad. Okay, he was just in my head, but he was there.
The kind of dad who'd listen and cheer me on.
So, while I poked at my breakfast, I imagined talking to him, spilling all my fears and worries, and he, as always, calmed me down and nodded along.
After that, I headed to school.By noon, I worked up the courage to text her.
My big question: "We still on for today?"
Deep down, part of me hoped she'd apologize and call it off.
After sending the message, it felt like an eternity waiting for her reply.
Then, finally, that annoying text notification pinged.
"Yup, totally! Meet me at the coffee shop by school," she wrote, adding a smiley face.I hate those emojis. Who even invented them?
What kind of genius thought those were a good idea?
Still, I didn't just send a lame "okay." I tossed back an emoji of my own.My hands were still shaking from nerves.
I couldn't figure out why I was such a wreck and tried to talk myself down.
But my brain wouldn't quit: "She didn't cancel!" I thought, half-thrilled, half-panicked.
On the flip side, I was so relieved I nearly cried.
Her reply calmed me enough to start mentally prepping for the date, even though five minutes earlier, I'd been praying she'd back out.
The fear of letting her down felt worse than death—or at least, that's how it seemed right then.I got lucky with the weather—it was gorgeous, like the universe was promising today would be unforgettable.
Magical, even.
So, walking to my first-ever date, I was drowning in anxious thoughts. I had no clue how to act or what to say.
"God, please," I muttered under my breath, "don't let me screw this up. Let her like me."
Then it hit me—I forgot to get flowers.
I remembered my Uncle Em's advice and stopped in my tracks, thinking, "How do you show up to a date without flowers?"
Uncle Em was right!
It might be cheesy, but I had to do it.Luckily, there was a flower shop on the way to the café.
I picked out an affordable bouquet, but I loved it.
It was a springtime mix, bursting with bright colors, smelling of fresh blooms, love, and youth.
I hoped she'd appreciate the gesture and not think I was trying too hard. "Let me be the romantic," I told myself to stay calm.I was so lost in my head that I didn't see the red light at the crosswalk.
I stepped out, nearly got hit by a car, and freaked out.
It'd be such a bummer to die before my first date, without ever feeling that first kiss.
That close call snapped me out of it, helped me pull my thoughts together.
The driver yelled at me, cussing out me and my entire family, then sped off.I kept going.
When I got to the café, I picked a cozy spot and sat down.
The waiter came over, and I, guy to guy, begged him to say anything expensive was out of stock if she ordered it.
I gave him this pathetic look, like a stray cat begging for scraps.
He burst out laughing but promised to have my back.
While waiting for her, I glued myself to the menu, picked the cheapest drink, and watched people pass by.
I'd calmed down a bit, but I was still stressing about money.
I didn't want to embarrass myself on my first date.
I was counting on the waiter's kindness.
I bet a lot of guys would get where I was coming from, though I felt like my situation was tougher than most.See, even if you're not rich, having a family—where the lights are on at night, your mom's cooking in the kitchen, and your dad's reading the paper or watching the news—gives you a sense of support, comfort, and warmth.
You know help's there if you need it.
Me? I didn't have that.
My evenings were so quiet, it was like no one had ever lived in my house.
While I waited, I even thought, "Man, I should've been born a girl. Life would've been so much easier!"
That cracked me up—the first time I smiled all day. My grumpy face finally softened.Ten minutes later, I was getting antsy, and then Nai showed up.
She walked toward me, slow and graceful.
Words can't do her justice—she was stunning, sweet, gentle, elegant.
I stood up and waved.
She smiled and headed to our table.
I was over the moon.
I handed her the bouquet, a little awkwardly, and I think she blushed as she took it.
Her cheeks turned strawberry-red.
I wanted to lean in, feel the warmth of her cheek against mine.
She studied the flowers, squinting slightly, and thanked me with a flirty little smile, saying I shouldn't have, but she loved it.
Maybe she thought I was old-school—who brings flowers these days?
Did she notice it was a cheap bouquet?
Or was she genuinely happy?
Honestly, women are a mystery.We started with small talk: she told me about where she lives, her family, her hobbies, and her college plans.
I listened, hanging on every word.
But then she got going—every time I tried to say something, she'd cut me off and keep talking.
It was funny, the way she scrunched her face and squinted when she got into a story.
God, it was adorable.
I remember thinking, "Thank goodness I don't have to talk about myself!"
With every story, I discovered her world—a whole new universe of dreams and ambitions.
She wanted to be a lawyer, fighting for the rights of kids, animals, men, women, the innocent.
She planned to study in London but dreamed of conquering New York.
I could feel myself falling for her, harder with every word.
People say love feels like butterflies in your stomach.
I'd ask them: you sure it's butterflies and not a swarm of locusts tearing through everything?After sharing about her life and family, she fixed me with a sharp look and playfully called me out for being so quiet.
I stammered an excuse and told her to ask me anything she wanted.
Big mistake.
She hit me with a barrage of questions: when's my birthday, who are my parents, where do I live, do I have siblings—maybe two?—do I have pets, do I like animals, what do I want to be when I grow up, what are my hobbies?
It was a flood of questions I couldn't keep up with, even if I'd wanted to.
I just couldn't answer them all.For a moment, I felt a pang of sadness.
So many of her questions were awkward, ones I didn't want to touch.
I didn't want to lie or hide parts of myself, but her cheerful voice and curiosity pulled me back to the moment.
I answered what I could, but when it came to family, I fell back on an old story I'd made up after my mom left.
The fear that she'd reject me if she knew the truth never left my mind.
I held back, careful not to slip up.
I kept my answers vague, buying time.
"It's too soon," I told myself over and over. "Maybe someday, but not now."We kept chatting—well, mostly she did, and it was so easy.
I had to fight the urge to hug her, to kiss her.
I loved every second of it.
It was like life flowed back into me, like I was alive again.
For the first time in years, I felt truly alive.
Looking back now, I see that Nai didn't just make me happy that day—she gave me a chance.
I started discovering not just her, but myself.
I began to wonder what I really wanted, who I wanted to be, what I wanted to do with my life.
At one point, she caught me smiling, squinted at me, and smiled back.
That's when I knew—she was the one I needed most.
We were meant to be together.Then came the moment that turned me inside out.
I didn't want it to end, but she said she had to go.
Being the gentleman, I offered to walk her home, but she shyly declined, promising we'd talk soon.
I agreed, saying I'd wait for her call.
As we got up, she thanked me and said she wanted to know more about me.
I promised I'd open up next time and answer all her questions.We'd been there for over three hours—unforgettable hours.
As we left, the waiter caught my eye and grinned.
His smile felt like a nod of approval, and for some reason, that meant the world to me.
It was like someone had my back, and it felt good.
After saying goodbye to Nai, since it wasn't too late, I decided to swing by work.
I couldn't wait to tell Uncle Em and Mars everything.My face was glowing with happiness that day.
I was so relieved when I realized I had enough money—she'd barely ordered anything.
It hit me that she was the kind of girl who cared about connection, not cash.
The waiter probably saw it too.
I'd heard stories of guys getting stuck with huge bills when girls ordered pricey desserts on dates.
If that had happened to me, I'd have broken down right there, humiliated.
I was so grateful my day didn't end in tears or shame.