I’m splashing cold water on my face, but it’s not helping. I am absolutely freaking out.
I look at my reflection in the little vanity mirror, pleading with myself.
This can’t be happening. Not with Trisha.
Earlier tonight, I sat on the couch for half an hour while she prettied herself up. Why should she be bothered by me taking five minutes in the bathroom? I need more time.
She kissed me last Wednesday. The vodka-sodas and dangerously close dancing probably had something to do with that, but she also kissed me on Friday, when she was completely sober. I guess it’s understandable that she might expect more tonight.
My friends were right- I should have prepared for this. She’s out there, looking sexy as hell. I’m in her bathroom, completely losing my cool. She’s probably expecting too much from me.
My collar is getting soaked, and I need to dry off. There is a little electrical outlet about the towel rack. She probably uses it for her hair dryer. The three little holes for the circuit contacts look like two eyes and a mouth- a little face, staring right at me.
“Steve, did you fix your contact lens yet?”
I wish I hadn’t lied about coming into the bathroom. She is a rational girl. She would have understood, right? It’s probably a bit of a turn-off but not a total deal breaker. It happens to everyone, doesn’t it?
It doesn’t matter now, anyway. No point in trying to rationalize this. She will want nothing to do with me after she realizes what’s going on.
“Uh, not quite. I’m still working on it. I think it’s stuck on my eyelid!”
Why do I keep lying?
“Don’t take too long. I might not be wearing much when you come out!”
She is taking her clothes off. I guess a nice Thai restaurant and a few drinks were exactly what she needed to get in the mood. I thought I saw her giving me “the look” during dinner.
I can hear music coming through the annoyingly thin door. She put on Van Morrison. Where was that five minutes ago? I could have used some background noise. I remember that she made a point of saying how much Van Morrison turns her on.
The little face in the electrical outlet is laughing at me.
I open the tiny window. The cool, fresh air should speed things up. This should not take so long. What is wrong with me tonight? Come on, dammit!
“Steve, are you about finished in there? I guess those drinks went right through me. I’m going to have to pee when you’re done. I swear it will only take a minute!”
Fucking Thai food! Why did I choose a Thai restaurant? Why did I choose coconut curry? I should have known better. Why doesn’t she have a fucking fan in here?
“Uh, hold on! I’m coming out in a second.”
I’m screwed. I thought maybe I could go out and quickly close the door behind me. I thought I could get away with this. But now she wants to come in here and piss! She’s going to walk in and smell what I did to her bathroom.
So long, Trisha. This was fun while it lasted.