Purple Night Sky

Scott, who this story focuses almost entirely on, didn’t feel comfortable enough to be the one telling it. In spite of his reluctance, it’s an undeniable fact that the story has to be told. It starts on Scott’s bed, but don’t worry (or should that say ‘don’t be disappointed’ you can choose) it doesn’t become vulgar at any stage. Scott peered wide eyed around his own room, which thanks to his nervousness, seemed a lot less familiar than it usually would. Scott was accompanied by a woman who he’d been on his third date with earlier that very day , so let’s give him a round of applause for that- it’s just me clapping isn’t it? Ok I’ll stop. His voice became higher and less authorative than it usually would as he asked for a hug – he was secretly annoyed at himself for being nervous about such a request, their other dates had resulted in a lot more than a quick hug. Now they were in some form of embrace he felt the nervousness leaving him, a cold sensation running up his body in a swift movement and then completely abandoning him. He lent in bravely for a kiss, it wasn’t the first time he’d done the same thing with this woman, but it was the first time that her response was negative. He head jerked itself back in reluctance and she gently pulled his arms that he’d automatically made lifeless since the hug was disbanded, placing them flat on his bed. Now I’ll interrupt to say that I think that’s disgraceful on her part, moving his own lifeless arms onto his own lifeless bed? Why not just attach strings to him while maniacally shouting dance in-between fits of uncontrollable theatrical laughter.

 A talk ensued that involved her saying she didn’t intend to go on another date with him- and that he was a really nice person and she genuinely did find him attractive. I’ll interrupt this tale again to ask this rhetorical question: Why claim someone is really nice and that you’re attracted to them immediately after saying you don’t intend to date them? Surely those claims don’t mirror your intentions in any way. A mostly one sided discussion occurred, with Scott bluntly responding to every comment she made, however positive

‘Yeah. Ok. I get it. I get it. Ok. Yeah’ he repeated with a swiftness that made it clear he just wanted to end the conversation

 ‘Why aren’t you listening to me?’ she asked with unsatisfied pity and longing

‘The conclusion’s the same whatever you say before or after’ he replied, trying to speak without a trace of malice, how well that worked however is anyone’s guess.

This conversation is actually quite painful – If anyone is feeling awkward I can always just change the subject. I’ve got plenty of anecdotes about cats doing amusing things if you’re interested?  You want to know what Scott did next? Alright that’s no problem, just remember that you asked to know.

The two casually vacated Scott’s room, Scott wishes this had gone differently and that he’d simply said ‘No. You go, I’ll stay here. Thanks’ in the most robotic tone a human could muster. Sadly though a taxi had been booked before this conversation happened for the two to search for food somewhere in the nearby town. The woman seemed to want to remain in Scott’s company, just at a platonic distance Scott would find hard adjusting to, given the nature of their last two meetings.

She turned and flashed him a broad smile more nurturing and genuine than any she’d displayed when they dated. After a brisk walk they stood awkwardly beneath a black sky that seemed to be a rich purple when lit by oddly coloured red streetlamps. The mood became significantly friendlier and significantly less awkward in the last few minutes they spent together. This was complicated when the guilty woman asked Scott for a hug, and then decided to give him no choice in the matter

‘Hug me back, dickhead’ she requested with an elongated moan

‘I’m too British’ Scott awkwardly joked with melancholy dissonance in his voice. While speaking of Scott’s heritage, his father was from Ascot, a mundane fact that becomes hilarious when you realise people could greet Scott by saying ‘Ah, Scott’.

Scott responded to the hug by making one of his arms hover over her back without making contact. The mistress of the mixed message asked Scott to text her when he returned home. This request confused Scott as it would me and made him think, however petty the thought may have seemed after ‘Why does she care all of a sudden?’

Scott began to walk home with the moist wind holding him captive on his commute. I forgot to mention that after the confused woman requested he text her later, he passively jerked his thumb at her while his body faced the opposite direction. I like how he handled that- Scott is quite the ice king when he needs to be it seems.

Scott’s heavy, crooked walk home was interrupted by the sight of a pub that he forced himself into. This fact is made all the more surreal by the fact Scott isn’t a drinking man generally. He sat down, his face paled by mild illness related to stress and confusion. He stared mindlessly at the table in front of him. ‘I know what you need to do’ was the rasp of a sped up and urgent whisper from a man he hadn’t acknowledged yet. Scott failed to hear the whisper but looked up approximately 5 minutes later , emitted a yelp that has never been heard coming from a human and flailed his arms in a way that he never could had he actively tried to.

‘Sorry, did you say something?’ Scott cautiously asked after he’d stifled himself

The whisperer, now speaking more casually replied

 ‘Yeah I know what you need to do’

‘Avoid strange people who sit across from me and try whispering advice would be a start’. Scott would usually suppress these kinds of comments, but tonight had already been generally unsuccessful and he’d travelled past the point of caring how rude he was perceived as.

            In spite of Scott’s comment, A conversation ensued between Scott and the whisperer, who it transpires was a bar worker who’d finished his shift for the night and had come to the aid of Scott who appeared to be in a zombified state.

‘She wants to meet up again in a non-dating situation I think- I told her outright that I don’t want to be the one initiating it’ Scott explained with grave seriousness

‘Well that’s fair enough’ the bar worker supportively corresponded

‘I’m saying all this now, I know I’ll end up giving in and texting her I’m just too weak’

‘Well, atleast you’re honest’ the bar worker positively added. Scott, like everyone who’s technically a human, possesses a list of negative traits, but all credit to him, denying said negative traits is not on the list

‘I’ll try not to say anything to her for just over a week and if she’s still said nothing , after insisting she genuinely wants to spend time, I’ll text her telling her she should’ve been honest with me at the start and not to have tried arranging a meetup simply to try and be polite’

‘That’s actually what I would’ve suggested. Give it until next Thursday, she said she’d happily initiate something but she probably wants confirmation that you’re not still angry at her before she tries to arrange anything , text her something then and see how she responds. If she doesn’t, then be the one to initiate your official parting , give yourself some of the power for a change’ The bar worker advised at length

‘I won’t text her first. I probably won’t text her first’

‘You might text her first, try and wait a few days though’

The conversation that ensued seemed to last long into the purple night.

Words of anger were poetically crafted by Scott himself. The bar worker, being well known in the establishment, was able to introduce Scott to other patrons. Scott briefly made friends that night, a result that would prove to most people that he wasn’t the problem, and that the guilty mixed messenger just had no idea what she wanted, but Scott is extremely fragile  however many people compliment him he’ll never start to believe in himself. He’d admit to being emotionally fragile, it’s officially featured on his list of negative traits.

 None of us can guarantee that Scott isn’t still grieving the mixed messenger, but in his search for a forth date he realised positive reactions can happen at any time, whenever you need to find them. Oh also, did I mention I was the bar worker? That was actually quite vital.