I went on a date
and I still don't know how to feel about it
6,946 steps. Almost 6,000 of those steps are from when I stepped outside at 3 PM to go on a date. It’s something I haven’t done in a while, and this day was about embracing myself and not having plans.
Maybe I’m back in my lover gurl era, or the Valentine’s Day air is smacking me in the face. I want the flowers, the cute bento cakes, the annoyingly long and cute art projects people make for their partners, and especially a curated playlist. The winter weather is slowly making its exit. The snow is melting, and maybe so is my cold little heart.
The effort put into this excursion is minimal. But it’s also low stakes. I skip the post-pilates shower, keep on my glasses and headband, and go for a quick athleisure look. The store I want to check out closes at 5 PM, so I must hurry.
I relish walking outside without a purse, water bottle, or tote bag. All my belongings fit into my pockets. I quickly regret my decision to wear my glasses because the mist turns into light rain, and I can barely see the cracks in the sidewalk.
It’s been a while since I put this little effort into caring about my appearance, but I notice it’s nice to feel free. My trenchcoat is missing a button, and I tuck it into itself and hope it stays closed around my body. The weather keeps most people indoors except for a few students heading home with arms full of groceries.
For a moment, I rethink going to the vintage store because I could grab a drink instead and quickly head back. But I think to myself… head back to what?
Maybe this new version of me is better at letting go of my inner critic. It’s the voice that wants me to have all the answers and decisions ready at all times. I take the longer route and opt for perusing the store AND buying drinks. My inner critic is silent for once.
Last year, I went to a market in Northern Liberties, where I met a vendor who sold vintage clothes. She stood out to me because of her warm personality, and I felt so torn when I had to turn down buying a one-of-a-kind wool sweater. I still dream about it.
I step inside the newly opened vintage store, and the warm interior greets me.
I love these kinds of stores. Perfumes, clothes, hair and body products, and trinkets. They speak to my scent-loving soul.
She has small flyers on display for a fundraiser event for a lesbian bar opening up. I keep seeing posts about this on Instagram, and we chat about it.
Then I look around the store some more. She encourages me to buy the product I’m looking at and that it’s a good deal. I could tell we were on the same page about my price range and excitement. She wraps it for me and ties it with a bow.
I leave the vintage store, Manzanita (on Baltimore Ave), and walk out feeling lighter.
My energy levels are still high, and I walk to my next destination. I see a few things that catch my eye along the way. The first thing is a Kate Spade book in a little library in good condition. I’m about to host a great party after reading through this. It reminds me of the books my mom has at home.
I admire the beautiful rowhomes and capture this image to send to my sister. I’m hoping she and my brother-in-law will move to Philly. I imagine them and their future children fitting right in with the chill, lowkey vibe of West Philadelphia.
At first, the kale caught my eye, and then I noticed a few signs this yard had up—free Palestine and a lengthy educational one about milkweed. As I walk away, I feel so many things, but I feel grateful to see a sign that reflects my beliefs about the genocide and freedom for Palestinians.
The walk from the vintage store to the next store is short, but I’m relieved to see the sign ahead. I came here once before with my friend Wen for happy hour. It was so good. I think we shared fish and chips, a salad, and wings. But I’m here for some beverages.
They have a bottle shop attached to the restaurant with a selection of fun shop items like tinned fish, wine, and lots of beer and cider. I grab some ciders to share with my housemates over community dinner and move on to picking out the star of the show. I grab something new, fun, and a fusion of sorts. Again, my budget is small, so I steer clear of the craft beers that are nice but not worth four cans.
At last, my burst of energy has depleted. The rain falls harder, and the wind picks up. It’s getting darker outside. My paper bag disintegrates in the rain. What the heck did I leave the house for in the first place? That’s right. I was going with someone.
I wait for the trolley in one place. The trolley is late, so I walk further to catch a different one. I’m always waiting on some form of bus or trolley these days.
I’m glad you let me take you on a date. Did you make it home okay?
Me thinks your date was delightful. :)