Second Date and First Race

The date last week went much better than my first one! I felt less physically tense but more anxious before and walked much too fast, so that I had to stop and look at shop windows in order not to be at the meeting point too early. I thought I looked as pretty as I can at my current weight, wearing my beloved dark red coat and my hair in a side braid with some curls escaping. But I still worried about looking fat and just like ‘too much body’. We had agreed to meet in B square, but had not exchanged numbers and not specified an exact meeting point. I knew how he looked from his picture and I knew he was bald, so when I arrived I looked at every bald man, but the sun was so low that it stung my eyes and it was hard to focus. It is astonishing how many bald men there suddenly appeared!

The first thing I felt when we saw each other was a slight disappointment. I knew he wasn’t really handsome and only a few centimetres taller than me, but he looked quite skinny and short, very bald and pale and his head doesn’t have a good shape. We shook hands and started walking towards the shore of the lake. Fortunately, the weather was good. I had suggested a walk because I find it much easier to talk this way instead of facing each other all the time. I get nervous and find it really hard to make eye contact in that situation, especially with strangers. I noticed that he had a tattoo on his forearm and glasses and skin blemishes. But I had some, too, so who was I to complain. I liked the fact that he wore a real shirt, but didn’t like his sneakers. Conversation was a bit awkward at first and he seemed shy, but not as awkwardly or unattractively shy as the man from my first date. When I interact with shy people, I get uncomfortable and automatically act less shy myself because I can’t stand the tension. In truth, I am just as insecure, but I smile and talk and even joke a little and it feels like an act and can be very draining.

We walked along and talked about all kinds of topics. He asked me questions and seemed genuinely interested in me as a person, not like the man from the first date. When we got to the end of the promenade, I suggested going for a drink somewhere and we entered a restaurant first, but the atmosphere was uncomfortable, so we left again. Neither of us knew any good places, but we found another restaurant by the lake which looked good. As on the first date, I again felt as if I had to decide things, but once we were at the table, he took charge and went to look for a waiter, ordered drinks and paid for mine. I didn’t feel as if I was his nanny, like with the man from the first date. He seemed to know what he wanted and just seemed a little hesitant doing it. I also think I made eye contact enough not to seem painfully shy. He has nice eyes and beautiful, sensitive hands. From his emails more than from his talk that day, I gathered that he is intelligent and ‘awake’ and interesting. This is definitely attractive and I think something I really want in a partner.

The waiter who brought our drinks was tall and slender, slightly tanned and had nice hair and I found him much more attractive than my date. In that moment the thought struck me that it must be really hard for men as well, if they are not handsome. After some time, we walked back to B square. When we were saying goodbye, I was very nervous, so I don’t remember details: I said that I had had a good time and that we should meet again and he agreed (but I later thought I left him no other option), and I think he wanted to shake hands again, but I went with kisses on the cheek. Then my tram came and I had to run to catch it.

Not two hours later, he wrote to me, addressing me as ‘dear’ Alienor for the first time and saying that he had enjoyed it very much and would really like to see me again soon. I wrote back saying ‘me, too’. It is a little scary what another person liking me can do to me. I felt a little intoxicated, very restless and happy. I saw myself in the best light possible. It’s a wonderful feeling, but I hate the fact that it has such power over me, because what will happen if it is taken away? I want to be able to love myself regardless of other people’s opinion of me. I’m also a little afraid of hurting somebody one day by allowing him to fall in love with me, thinking I am in love myself but mistaking love for just feeling very flattered. I’m not sure. Before the date, I felt more attracted to this man than now, but there is definitely something there. We’ll just have to get to know each other better.


The race yesterday was ok. I went there alone because my mother was working, Father was abroad and Sissy didn’t have time. In spite of the many people, I felt a bit lonely and would have liked company and encouragement. I did the shortest distance, a bit over 5 km, and in my group were many older or overweight people, so I didn’t feel very out of place. The runners for the longer distances looked a lot more intimidating. But hey, I only run for fun, have just started a few months ago, never trained systematically and hadn’t run for two weeks because of the concussion, so I was just glad to be there. I tried to start really slowly, but just as always in the first half hour, I had to take several walking breaks. Towards the end, I had more energy and even managed an uphill part well. It was great to see the people watching around the finish line and race towards it, but I was really drained afterwards and felt dizzy for two seconds. I also felt self-conscious and didn’t look up at anybody. One thing is certain: without my great music, I wouldn’t have made it.

I’m a little disappointed, actually. I expected to feel very euphoric after the race and motivated to run more and lose weight, but it didn’t happen. I felt better running alone in the forest on small winding paths, feeling light and free, than in a large crowded race. It was difficult not to compare myself to others. I don’t like to run slowly, either. I’d rather run at a medium or fast pace (for me, at least) and take breaks than plod along evenly, which just feels like work, like I always felt when running in school. I need the exhilarating sensation of speed, of moving through space. It may be stupid and bad tactics for a race, but I don’t care. I run because it makes me feel good, in a way that makes me feel good, and have no intention of starting to track times and progress.

Maybe I’ll do it again next year if I still like running. Maybe I’ll do 10km next time, but I’m not sure at all.

About annalienor

Lover of beauty, adult ballet student, deliberate creator wannabe.
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