There’s a young girl in the bookstore’s coffee shop that sits down in front of me. I don’t notice that she’s young at first, instead I notice her small hips, tight fitting gray hoodie, and thick wavy blonde hair. She’s small, cute and casual- if I had a type, that would be my type. Shit, that type hasn’t served me well.
She turns to talk to me, to ask me a question about the wifi, and I see that she has large brown eyes. She looks slightly annoyed, maybe angry. Not with me, just in general, with life. Red flag. But when have I ever let something like that stop me. I read off the wifi password. She types it in, and I glance down at the spine of her book- Codependence No More. For a moment I think about commenting on it. Something stupid like, “How’s the book”, or “I probably need to read that too.”
“Thanks,” she says, and pauses before turning back around. But codependence is too large a red flag. I would have ignored it when I was younger, but I’m too exhausted and sleep-deprived to ignore those things anymore. I play out the scenario, and nothing good comes of it: just a lot of disappointment and painful conversations. She’s my type, but I need a new type.
“No problem,” I say, and smile lightly.
Also published on Medium.