The Stand-In

by Lily Chu

I try to suppress the hungry look I know comes into my eyes as I stare at their intertwined fingers, because no one wants to broadcast their loneliness to others. It’s not like I’m lonesome all the time or pining for a Prince Charming, but sometimes there’s a part of me—maybe twenty percent—that wants that kind of connection so badly it hurts. The other eighty percent is more sensible.

His handsomeness renders me literally unable to speak, and I get a bit panicked before resentment sets in. How dare he look so good?

Whatever happens now will at least be different, and after today, I want that desperately.

because deep down I have a fantasy of him looking at me like that, as if I’m the only person who matters in the middle of all that chaos.

I’ve been on enough dates to know I no longer have the desire to pretend a man is interesting,

I want to interrupt but it would only be to hear my own voice.

“There are enough people in the world ready to put you down. Do you need to join them?”

I look at the wall but I can’t see a thing. I’m only existing.

I’m always on my own. In movies and books, women seem to have a “you go, girl” squad-posse of personal cheerleaders but that’s not how my life turned out.

today all I want is a person, my person, who I can call and who will drop everything to be by my side.

That activates my inner people pleaser, a practiced muscle that can flex stronger and faster than my fledgling vow to be better.

The problem Sam has with kissing me is my face, excellent news. I’m going to melt from shame but this is like watching a horror movie. I need to know.

Not even passion can get past my mental gatekeeper, the Dread Lady Overthinker.

I worry about taking too much space, too much time, too much attention. Maybe I shouldn’t. Maybe it’s possible to take up the perfect amount.