Cloud Nothings on a Good Friday

Two-thirds of my life was spent in the Philippines, where you need to work really hard if you want to date a girl. So, as an immigrant in the United States, it’s a bit jarring for me when a girl comes up and ask me out on a date. Not that I don’t like it. Just the opposite, in fact. But this thing is still new to me. Overall, I’ve only been asked out twice –once when I was in college, and then earlier today.

It was a slow day at the hospital. Unusually slow. So, I had time to chat and catch up with a couple of people at work. One of them was the social worker, who –according to my friend– couldn’t take her eyes off of me during a workplace event last month. I didn’t believe my friend, of course. But, apparently, she was right. Because this social worker has been paying attention to me –she knows my favorite bands.

I would’ve dismissed her as a stalker. But she’s a beautiful girl, like a younger and petite Teri Hatcher. She’s has this delicate face and a perfect set of eyebrows. She’s not as pretty as my crush though. But, nevertheless, I’m flattered that she’s interested in me, and asked me out to see Cloud Nothings –my favorite new band– with her this coming Good Friday.

I haven’t accepted her offer though. I’m not really sure if I want to go with her. Because I’m still in love with THE girl, my crush. If I ever go out with social worker, she could only end up as my girlfriend place-holder –the girl I’ll be dating until my crush becomes single. This has happened before, and I don’t want it to happen again. She deserves better.

Also, as a member of a Roman Catholic family, who’s important dates are Good Friday, Easter Sunday and Christmas, I don’t think I’d be able to wiggle my way to Schuba’s Tavern and watch Cloud Nothings while my family prays the way of the cross. My mother will disown me if she finds out.

But her offer to see Cloud Nothings still stands, and it’s tempting me.

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One thought on “Cloud Nothings on a Good Friday

  1. gillboard says:

    go. it’s just a date.

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