I wait several heartbeats for a reply. The text bubble is popping like there’s a reply brewing, but it doesn’t come right away.
“Are you not liking the journal?”
I’m typing faster than I thought possible, I don’t want this to be taken incorrectly. “No. I’ve enjoyed every part of the adventure, including the journal. I appreciate when I hear back from you and can learn some things about you.”
“But…”
My heart is pounding in my chest, which seems to be affecting the dexterity of my thumbs. I’m making typos and auto-correct is having a field day with bad word choices. “The journal was just,” I start to type the word “lonely” and freeze.How can I explain this? This is the first date and we’re not even a hundred words in yet and it feels like I need to bare my soul in a text. Texting the details of my mish-mashed emotions sounds like a really terrible idea. I delete and start over. “I’m glad to be talking to you instead.”
“Me too,” the reply comes quickly. “I mean, I’m glad I’m talking to you. But also glad that you are talking to me too.” Before I even finish reading another text pings: “Wow, texting is hard.”
“I have a feeling we can make it work!” I can’t help but smile a genuine smile, the kind of genuine that makes me feel like we are actually in this together.
“I think so too.”
“Can I ask you a question?” I type slowly, feeling the freedom that our texting relationship provides, but also wondering now if it’s possible for me to mess it all up.
“Sure. Ask away.”
“Why do all this?” After clicking send, I read the words again, hoping I haven’t crossed a line.
“You mean the tasks? The adventure?”
“Yes.” I really want to type more. Maybe try to explain that I’m so thankful for the adventure, but also wondering “why me?” Why would some anonymous person pick me for my secret adventures? Why not just bump into me somewhere and strike up a conversation? My line of thought fractures into a million paths, so I just rely on my simple “yes” already typed and sent.
“I must confess I was nervous about this question. I guess it makes sense it would be the biggest thing on your mind”
I wait.
“I took a chance.” That’s the answer.
I look up from my phone to think about this. I think what surprises me is that I’m constantly being reminded that mysecret person is just a regular person. A person trying to figure out life like the rest of us, just in a mysterious way. The reminder always kindles something warm inside.
“I’m glad you did.” I feel my heart settling on the humanity of the answer and even though I want to know every detail, I feel like I don’t really need more. “I’m glad we could meet at our separate cafes tonight.”
“You inspire me with your willingness to take on the spirit of this adventure. I’ve never done this before and you’re bringing it to life.”
I think about this for a minute, long enough to realize I’m beaming at my phone.
“I’m enjoying the adventure. I’d like to know more about you.”
“Now I’m nervous,” the reply comes.
The host is seating a group of four well-dressed young people nearby and I can’t help but notice the organic way in which they arrange themselves into pairs. Eye contact and smiles are all it takes to communicate among themselves. It’s nice.
I type again: “Are you always this creative and unique in everything you do, or is designing my great adventure something out of the ordinary for you?”
“You mean how many other people have I dragged through town with my devious ways? I love your question. Here’s the answer: You are something special. Which inspired me to do something special. This is new territory for me.”
“How do you know I’m special?” I click send and then realize how funky it sounds.
“You followed my adventure didn’t you?”
“I guess.”
“I can’t think of another person who would even entertain the idea of joining me tonight in our separate cafes. That means a lot to me.”
The words glow too brightly on my screen and I can’t stop blinking.
