The Broken Wings of a Little Blackbird

I have always had trouble making complete sentences when I'm nervous. That is why I have never gone on a date, much less a blind date. I'm too nervous to sit down face to face, alone, with a prospective lover. All my boyfriends were made by accident or by way of friendship. When I hear that one of my friends is going on a date, I get anxious for them. Here I am, thinking about the blind date I'm about to go on. I think about all the times I embarrassed myself because I was so nervous and couldn't be myself. Oh, it is so painful to reflect on those memories. It only heightens my anxiousness.

Our mutual friends think we'll be perfect for each other. What do they know? No, I am trying to be positive; it's going to be great.

I know I have to go on this date. I have been single, five years now. Everyone keeps telling me that IT will happen when I just focus on myself.... but it hasn't. Every motivational or self-help advice says, you got to try something new, if you want a different life. So here I am trying something new and I am terrified. A little glimmer of hope, I'm white knuckling, tells me maybe, just maybe this time will be different.

His picture tells me he's a handsome, friendly guy but I've watched too many horror movies to know there is no way to know how good a person is by looking at their picture. There I go again, overthinking things. My friends say I'm crazy but.....

I need a glass of wine. I just received my Bright Cellar wine delivery. I find a delicious looking merlot in the box and open it, pour myself a glass to drink while I finish getting ready. Merlot in French means little blackbird. There’s a dainty little blackbird flying from a branch on the label of the bottle.

Sitting in front of my vanity mirror with my glass of merlot, I think....too much makeup and I look desperate, not enough and he'll see the pimple scar on my forehead. It's a precarious balance to achieve especially when I'm nervous. Help me little blackbird. A song plays in my head.

Blackbird singing in the dead of night,

Take these broken wings and learn to fly,

All your life,

You were only waiting for this moment to arise

(The Beatles)

My Uber has arrived. I'm as ready as I'll ever be. My unfinished glass of merlot will have to wait.

A man in his late twenties pops out of the driver's seat and walks around to open my car door for me. He's tall, athletic, and very easy on the eyes. He’s my type, in every sense, but I don't really pay much mind since I'm so nervous about my blind date. On the ten minute ride to the restaurant we have a small conversation, distracted on my end. When we arrive, again he opens my car door for me. As I stand from the car, to walk into the restaurant, I notice the street light makes his hazel eyes sparkle.

The restaurant is dimly lit and the smell of roasted meat and fresh baked bread warms the air. The young, slender hostess greets me. Before I can say anything, I spot my date standing at the bar holding a glass of wine in his hand. He looks so good, it's intimidating. A perfect smile, broad shoulders, and a suit. I swear I could see his harsh judgement of me in his eyes. I take a deep breath to quell my emotions. Where did this insecurity come from? Childhood teases? Unrequited love? You are good enough.....I think to myself. "You is kind, you is smart, you is important."

The date goes terribly. I'm saying things I've never said or thought before just to look more confident and carefree. Each time I cringe inside and the flash of doubt in my eyes must be clearly visible to him.

We only get as far as one drink and an appetizer before he says he's got to get up early tomorrow. It's Friday night. Trying to find the humor in it, my mind says to me, "he's just not that into you."

I summon an Uber, the date is over. Yay? I realize the same guy who dropped me off is picking me up. He's five minutes away. I'm too defeated to think much of it. Saying goodbye to my date could not happen quickly enough. In the time it takes my Uber to arrive, I'm standing there in front of the restaurant, facing my date while he's telling me some story but I don't hear what he's saying. I'm thinking, no, worrying about what he will tell our mutual friends about his time with me. It's physically painful.

Would he of liked me if he could of seen the true me? It's a question, I've asked myself many times before. C'est la vie. At least, I have my unfinished glass of merlot waiting for me back at my apartment. It's aired out beautifully now.

Finally, my escape has arrived. He jumps up out of the driver side with a big smile on his face and, as usual, he opens my car door. This time his courtesy feels like a rescue. I was so happy to see that smile.

Once on our way, I feel a great relief. My driver of the night is Beau. Beau means beautiful in French. I think he senses my disappointment so he tries to make me laugh. It works. His words...his energy were giving me.... life, peace. It's such a welcome feeling after my evening of suffering.

He's in law school and will graduate at the end of year. I know this because he asked for my number when he dropped me off at my door. He called me last night. We ended up talking on the phone until three in the morning. When his number flashed bright on my phone my heart skipped a beat. My face flushed bright pink. I picture his smile and the way he made me feel. Beau is intoxicating, like a glass of fine wine. He told me that the night of my blind date, after he dropped me off at the restaurant; he drove circles around the blocks surrounding the restaurant. He wanted to wait for me. He hoped to pick me up again.

Fast forward six months, Beau and I are inseparable. I think he’s the one. After some deep reflection, I've come to realize that the nervous me is still.... me. It's a part of me that I need to accept and love just as much as the confident, witty me. I'd like to think that my anxiousness protects me, in this case, from ending up with the wrong "Beau." You see, it works, if you want to change your life you just have to do something different.