I glance down at my watch, my eyes gazing over the familiar black digits again. It’s 12:34 PM. As promised, I’m downtown, sitting at a table for two at Pearson’s waiting for my coffee “date” with Jamie.
And he’s running late.
Half an hour late.
Of all the nerve. If anything, it should be the other way around. For crying out loud, this was his idea!
I, for one, had definitely thought about just not showing up. I’d be lying if I said it didn’t cross my mind several times, in fact, including when I was on my way here. But each time it did, my stupid conscience got the better of me and I ended up feeling guilty about cancelling at the last minute.
I don’t date, but I’m all too familiar with the feeling of disappointment. I know I wouldn’t appreciate being stood up or left hanging for something I was looking forward to, and Jamie seemed fairly excited about the prospect of having coffee with me last night.
So, as tempted as I was to lock my Jiminy Cricket in a cage and set it on fire, I eventually talked myself out of bailing on him and showed up. So, here I am.