Dysphoria part two

We head to a diner and Shrignold looks nervous, but I tell him I also hadn’t been to a restaurant in a long time and he takes in a what sounds like a relieved breath.

“I thought I might’ve been the only one!” He says with a nervous titter.

I laugh and say, “Not at all, mate. I work so much I forget to eat most of the time.”

His eyes widen in concern. “That’s not right. You need breaks.”

“Oh, I get breaks,” I say as we get seated at a booth. We sit opposite sides of the table. “I just am a workaholic, haha,” I fake laugh.

“So am I, Warren, I practically breathe and eat and sleep my work,” He says with a musical passion, smiling with a toothy grin. I notice a small gap in his smile and feel a churning in my stomach, thinking how adorable it looks.

“You.. your gap…. It looks very…” I bit my tongue as I realize I’m saying it out loud and Shrignold looks as me, his head tilting forward and eyes curious yet a bit confused. “Nice,” I settle on, but I want to kick myself. This wasn’t a date. This was a friendly outing with a man I had just met. Not. A. Date.

I had realized I was bisexual early on in my teenage years but unfortunately had no one take any interest in me barring the bullying and the exception of a occasional physical beating and maybe the one off a nice person taking pity on me and being my friend only during school hours. So, no girlfriend or boyfriend for me. Not even a date.

Shrignold shrugged a bit and blushed a light purple on his cheeks. “Oh, thank you, Warren, I rather like your curly hair.”

I blinked at the compliment. No one ever complimented me!!

I did have a bit of curly light brown hair under my pink hat. How did he notice?

“Re-really? You like my hair?” I feel an intense heat crawl up my body and into my chest and up into my face.

“Yes,” he says with a determined smile, and the waiter come over with our drinks, taking our order.

“Oh, dear,” he says to the waiter but looks at me. “I hadn’t really looked at the menu.”

I nod. “Either have I. May we have a moment?”

The waiter nods and says he’ll be back in a few minutes.

“Well, Warren,” he says as he pulls out the menu and peruses it with grace, “What will you get?”

I lift up the menu and decide to get a light salad and soup, I don’t want to look like a pig eating too much in front of him.

“Soup and salad,” I say.

“Oh… I think I’ll have the big breakfast special. The cast iron waffles with blueberries and cream. And… the omelette with extra cheese,” he says and I grin.

“Oh, sounds good,” and I feel my stomach rumble.

“You can always have some of mine,” he offers.

I feel a tingle of joy hit my center, “Oh that’s sweet.”

He grins. “That’s love for you.”

I frown. “Lo-love?” I swallow harshly. How can he be talking of that so soon?

“Oh, what I meant… well?” He laughs in a hearty way.

“I think love is in everything and everyone. Love can be in sharing. Sharing food is a selfless act. Isn’t it? Like Malc—uh, like how we should treat one another..” he clears his throat.

I nod, but feel an air of something off in his wording.

“Where do you work, Shrignold?” I ask, taking a long sip of my tea.

“I belong to a very impressive organization that was founded long ago, Warren. It is a small but spiritual community based on simple but lasting principles on life and social relationships, love and happiness.”

“Is…” I bite my lip and try not to say anything that may offend my new friend. “Is it a religious thing?”

He starts to shake his head but shrugs. “Some may argue it is. I say it is a great advancement of how society should be.”

“Hmm. Let’s put a pin in that. Sounds rather fascinating though,” I clear my throat so much I cough.

“You alright, dear?” He asks.

I nod. “Absolutely.”

We order our food and talk a bit more naturally, this time about my life and job.

“The last time I tried to help a family… or this group of people who lived together, they made fun of me.”

He gave me an incredulous look, “What? You? A respected businessman with so much information to give them?” He growled, “How absolutely horrendous!”

“Yeah? They just kept taking turns roasting me and making me feel so small, telling me I was ugly and looked like a tumor.”

“Not true. You’re not ugly, you’re quite dashing, actually. They must’ve been jealous..” Shrignold said with a wink, and I looked down, feeling flushed.

“The big tall red one was the one that started being mean to the little yellow one too, and the duck too, they were just… ugh, so rude…” I finish off my tea and as I place it down on the table I see his face look at me with a bit of awe and realization,

“A tall red fellow? A duck? And the other one… he was yellow?” He asked in a carefully quiet tone, and I nodded.

“Oh. Oh my, I think I dealt with that family once a long time ago as well. The little yellow one was upset and I tried to help him. Get him to join our group. Find his special one once he got a bit older. But? C'est la vie, his weird duck and mop looking father figures came mucking about… and the duck one tried to smack at me,” he said in an animated manner, mocking the hand motion by swatting at the table, and I gasped. “Calling me a pesky bee.”

“No!” I could only reply in a heavy shock, and he nodded.

“Yes! And when I came to, I was quite perturbed,” he shivered, as if reliving the memory. “I mean, do I look like a bee?”

“Not at all. Especially not a pesky one,” I say and he giggled.

“Thank you Warren. I appreciate that.”

Suddenly he moves his hand across the table, and takes my hand in his, our eyes locking in a quiet stare.

“Oh, of course,” I say, reminding myself once again—

This is not a date.

But, somehow, being here with him was fate.