Seven Date Me

When Gerard was just a customer at Starbucks getting to see him every day was cause for excitement, however, since I had started dating Gerard I found that the prospect of seeing him each day made me a little nervous. Once we’d settled in together it was fine, but seeing him for the first time each day was hard; I never knew quite what I would be met with. That’s what made me nervous – the uncertainty. He was that unpredictable kind of predictable.

I was feeling less nervous than usual in the lead up to our fourth date. This was for two reasons: one, Wednesdays meant he was shy and anxious so I kind of had the upper hand, and two, the day he told me about his disorder was a Wednesday, meaning I was going into the date with a little bit of knowledge and experience. This date was intended to be simple, personal, and relaxed. I didn’t want to take Gerard out into a large crowd because I was sure he would feel uncomfortable. For that reason, I chose to have the date at his house again.

“H-Hi,” Gerard said when he opened the front door.

Unlike when I entered his house yesterday, he didn’t make any attempt to kiss me. I have to admit, I felt kind of rejected, especially seeing how much we had progressed yesterday in our physical relationship. I figured he was just unsure what the protocol was – I was a little myself – so I took a step toward him and kissed his lips chastely. Upon pulling back I noticed a pink tinge to his usually pale cheeks. It was just a little cute.

“I hope you’re hungry,” I said, holding up the woven basket I’d brought with me. “I thought we might have a little carpet picnic?”

He wrapped one arm around his torso to hold onto the opposite elbow, his head tilted downward slightly giving him a bashful appearance. “That’d be nice.”

His awkwardness was adorable. I just wanted to reach out and squeeze his faintly chubby cheeks. I didn’t of course – that would have been creepy.

“Does the living room work for you?” I asked.

He nodded timidly and led the way through the sliding door. The living room was almost identical to how it was on Tuesday, but something about it felt different. Maybe it was the fact that the blanket we cuddled under was no longer on the couch, or maybe it was because there was no bowl on the table. To this day I still am uncertain of why, but as hippy-dippy as it may sound, I think it was his aura. That would have changed daily as auras are associated with your personality, so it’s an explanation I continue to refer to when I reflect on that time; it fits.

Gerard stood in the middle of the room by the coffee table. He was rubbing his upper forearm, looking about kind of helplessly. Everything in the room got some kind of attention from him, everything expect for me, that is. His eyes would sort of gloss over me, they didn’t pause even for a nanosecond. There was no attempt to meet my eyes. He looked incredibly nervous.

“How about we try sitting on the floor?” I asked gently, hoping it would put him at ease a fraction.

“O-okay,” he stammered.

He dropped down to sit cross-legged on the beige carpet before I had the chance to explain my intentions for the date.

“I, uh, though we might sit on a picnic rug...”

A red hue took over his cheeks. “Oh...”

There was no denying the embarrassment on his face as he pushed himself up from the floor. I watched his body language while I spread out the picnic rug I’d brought with me; he kept his arms tightly by his side, his legs pressed together, his ankles crossed, and he kept his bottom lip firmly wedged between his teeth. By time the rug was down, the food laid out, and we were both seated he had relaxed a little but there was still that rigidness to him; he sat with his legs bent at his side and still averted his gaze from me. I decided to try to coax him out of his shell.

“You look really cute today,” I complimented him. He was dressed in dark loose fitting jeans, a Spiderman T-shirt – fitting as Peter Parker started out as a shy character – and a worn black jacket left unzipped.

Tucking a stray strand of hair behind his ear and looking to the floor, he disagreed, “No I don’t.”

“Gerard, I’m a gay man who spends his days looking at people that come into Starbucks – I think I know a little something about what constitutes cuteness.”

Once again he blushed. I secretly loved that I had the ability to do that without really trying all that hard. I waited a minute for the pink colour to leave his face before I progressed with the date by offering him one of the salad sandwich triangles I’d made earlier that morning. He took it tentatively and began to take small bites.

Conversation needed to happen otherwise this date would be kind of pointless, so I started him off with an easy question. “Tell me about your job at the library. If you were working there right now what would they have you doing?”

He swallowed the bite he’d just taken and placed his sandwich on the paper plate I’d given him while setting up the picnic. “Wendy would send me to the religion section. Not many people go there so it helps with my... anxiety, ” he told me quietly, actually looking at me until he said the word ‘anxiety’. “I return books, organise the shelves, and help the few people who can’t find what they’re after.”

“You must enjoy the peace and quiet on days like today,” I prompted him so he’d keep talking.

“I feel comfortable there.”

I asked him a couple more easy, get-to-know-you questions – favourite food, favourite, colour, birth date, and so on. The more questions I asked the less he stammered and avoiding looking at me. He would offer me more details with each new question I asked. After half an hour I decided to push him a further.

“You don’t have to answer this if you’re not ready, but how do you feel about having MPD? Honestly.”

“I... um... it’s kind of... uh...”

“Hey,” I said soothingly, reaching out to touch his hand lightly, “don’t force yourself to tell me. I want you to feel comfortable, and you’re clearly not.”

“I want to tell you, I-I just don’t know how to... or why you’d care,”

“I like you Gerard – liking you means that I want to understand you.” I reached out to squeeze has hand; it was trembling. “Take your time.”

He inhaled a shaky breath, then said, “It’s hard – having MPD... incredibly hard. Everything I do has to be planned out around my personalities, even the little things like concerts; there are so many concerts I’ve missed because they didn’t fall on a good day.” He takes a long pause, his eyes concentrated on his hands which was wringing together. “S-Sometimes I want to tell a person something, and if I can’t see them that day I have to wait a week because I can’t get myself to say the words another day – literally can’t say them.”

“That must be the most difficult thing in the world,” I sympathised.

“I wish I could say that I don’t hate having this, because it’s who I am, but I do. In the end it all boils down to one sentence; I hate myself.”

Those words caused my heart to ache. I felt it skip a beat. This beautiful man who I was slowly getting know and really starting to like hated who he was. The worst part was that, unlike when other people hated themselves, Gerard hated himself over something he had absolutely no control over.

“You shouldn’t hate yourself, Gerard. Whether you believe it or not, I think you’re pretty special – like a diamond, or world peace,” I said with as much sincerity as I could muster. His eyes flicked up to mine and I managed to hold them there with my own. “It’s who you are, and so far I haven’t seen anything about it that I don’t like.”

He shook his head. “That’s not possible.”

I walked on my knees over to him and placed a finger under his chin, tilting it up so he’d look at me. “It is possible, trust me. I never thought someone like you could exist, and yet here you are. And you are amazing.”

In a low voice he said, “I’m not... I’m really not...”

“Hey,” I kissed his lips quickly, “you are. I don’t just seven date anybody, you know.”

The pink tinge from earlier returned to his cheeks and he smiled timidly. Satisfied, I moved back to my own side of the blanket. He was looking adorable again, so naturally I was smiling to myself like a maniac because I was the cause and no one else got to share this moment with him.

We continue to eat our floor picnic in a relatively comfortable silence. Gerard still looked closed off and reserved, but the longer we sat together and conversed the more he appeared to relax. The amount of eye contact increased and gradually his arms moved to rest on his knees instead of the way he had been hugging them around himself. Our conversation became more personal to the point that we were even discussing his disorder again. He managed to explain to me that on Wednesdays if you persisted with him his walls would slowly break down; it was actually the best day for him to talk about that kind of personal stuff.

“I’ve never really, uh, spoken about this with anyone before,” he told me. I raised an eyebrow curiously. “People find me tedious, so they never really talk to me long enough for me to be comfortable enough to tell them.”

“I’m glad you feel comfortable talking to me about it.”

His eyes dropped. “It isn’t... isn’t easy.” He paused, darting his tongue out across his lips. “But I, um... I’m, uh... relieved tha-that you aren’t like... them.”

I smiled widely at his confession, not because of what he said, but because he found the confidence to say those words. I could see on his face and hear it in his voice how difficult sharing something so intimate with me was. Part of me wanted to hear him say more like that and press him for more details about his MPD, but I wasn’t selfish enough to ask that of him; I wanted to make him feel comfortable again.

I got to my feet and held my hand out to him. “Come on, let’s go for a walk.”

My offer alarmed him, his eyes wide and looking panicked. I had to spend a few minutes convincing him that it’d do him good to get out of the house, but finally he agreed and took my hand. We only walked in a circle through a couple of blocks, just commenting on what was around us, but it was very therapeutic for the both of us. I did notice, however, that whenever we came within a couple of yards of another person he would tense up; it was like his shyness really was crippling. Despite him clearly being uncomfortable by it, I was happy when someone came near us because it made him take a step closer to me. Occasionally his arm would brush against mine, causing me butterflies, and I know he felt them, too. It was strangely like a first date, even though it was actually our fourth.

Back at the house, Gerard gave me a hand to pack up all the picnic items I’d brought with me. I wanted to spend more time with him, but I thought I’d pushed him enough for one day.

“Today was nice,” I said to him as we walked to the front door. This time I was leading him. “I’m looking forward to another date with you.”

“Tomorrow’s Thursday,” he replied sadly. “We should skip tomorrow’s date.”

“I disagree. I want to experience all of you, even the bad parts.” I touched his cheek gently so he’d meet my eyes. “We’ll make it work, I promise.”

With that, I kissed his cheek lightly and made my way out to my car. I was feeling nervous about our fifth date already. Keeping my promise to him was going to be a lot harder than I thought.