Sitting alone with my cup of vanilla latte, I wonder if the man sitting in front of me sees the bubble I’m in. I wonder if I appear to him as a snobbish, spoiled young adult who will let no one break her bubble. I wonder if I appear as one who thinks highly of herself, who is arrogant and will let no man get close, close enough to break her boundaries.
Nura says men are afraid that I will reject them and break their hearts. She says that I’m intimidating because I reserve myself from engaging in ludicrous conversations and activities when I’m away from my circle of close friends. She says I’m not the type of girl that flirts with every male in the room and makes herself seem easy.
Maybe it’s time to let loose. Maybe it’s time to be the chooser instead of the chosen. I have to break this damn bubble and at least feign a smile, a smile that says ‘look, I’m really not a snob and I don’t think I’m better than everyone in this room’.
By the time I’m finished with my latte, the man has already left. I didn’t get to ask him if he read my fears or if he saw that beneath my stuck-up image, I was just a naive, simple girl who was tired of drinking alone.