Isn’t it amusing that you made fun of me for using too many words to get to the point, and now I get to the end of your message and I find I have none. Except for one, the one that you ended with. I keep rereading that last word.

A date?

This is silly, I know, but the moment I saw the word written down I realized I’d never even allowed myself to fully entertain the thought that I should be so lucky. Simultaneously: that there is nothing else I want more in the world. Lili, I am afraid my condition has only got worse since I last wrote to you. I stopped listening to war songs, since you made fun of me, but now I feel a compulsion to copy down your name in a notebook, draw it out in chubby capitals like a schoolgirl would. I might be older than you, but I think of the two of us I am the excited schoolboy. I’m not even embarrassed to tell you this. But I hope you won’t look down on me for this reason, thinking me juvenile.

I have rambled on again, haven’t I? Forgive me, Lili. Let me reply to your question: of course. Of course I would love to go on a date with you.

God, I can’t quite believe it. It’s been so long since I last allowed myself to think about the world in a romantic fashion. The word ‘date’ itself seems so esoteric … almost mystical. Not merely a drink, or drinks, or the serious-sounding coffee. When I was a kid an older boy told me that the best way to trick a girl into thinking you’re serious about her is to take her out for coffee on your first date, not drinks. Neither of us was old enough to drink alcohol then, and I am pretty sure we were both virgins, but in the years since I have thought about his advice often. He’d told me in hushed tones, right outside the headmaster’s office, and so I have been thinking of coffee as the sentimental equivalent of a disciplinary meeting. No surprise it’s been dull drinks with work colleagues and duller one-night stands for the most part of my life. Why am I telling you this?

… because a DATE, the soft potential of it, sickly sweet and self-contained in the word like in its fruit counterpart, compact and dry on the outside, but rich and melt-in-your-mouth once you bite into it … I’ll stop rambling on. Shall we go on a date, Lili?

You pick where, let me treat you.

Clay

kittenwithasledgehammer

Sent: 23/11/2015 – 20:39

oh hey hello