Tonight

You picked out the nicest outfit in your closet

And stared at yourself in the mirror for an hour repeating,

“You can do this. It’s dinner. Don’t be weird. Don’t be awkward.”

And you straightened that loose hair drooping over your forehead

Slicked it back with hair clay

And sprayed the cologne I complimented back in high school.

You drive to my place, your heart in your throat

Palms sweating over the steering wheel

And your blush creeps over your face as you see me wave and walk over to your car.

You open the door for me

This is it. You think to yourself. It’s finally happening.

We drive to the best restaurant in town.

You hold the door for me. Pull out my chair for me. You’re the most chivalrous guy I’ve met.

And we talked for hours

Reminiscing the good old days with our squad in senior year.

Late nights out doing what we weren’t supposed to

Being the only two out of our group to stay up chatting in the living room of the suite we all rented on prom night.

And then I asked you what your intentions were. Why did you take me out for dinner?

Your heart is racing. Boom. Boom. Boom. Boom.

You’re visibly shaking. I feel bad for having asked that question.

Then your words came clumsily falling out, not out of carelessness but that they contained so much of your raw emotion.

“I— I love you. I really love you. I have been in love with you for years!” you nearly shout.

The words finally find release after being bottled up for so long. Everyone around turns to us and you lower your head in embarrassment.

I take your hand. Everyone turns away and goes back to their business. Clinking utensils on their fine china plates and wiping their faces with imported cotton napkins.

“I love that you had the courage to say that. I love that you’ve taken me out tonight. I love you, but not in the same way. I love you as a friend— like a brother.”

And the words hit you like a 16- wheeler going down the freeway at 90 mph.

Perhaps I’ve always had been too friendly. Too nice. Too perfect in your ideas.

Of course she doesn’t feel the same way. I’m so stupid.

It’s because your imagination got the best of you. You thought of me and then you started to imagine us. How I had always been there to listen to your venting. Then on to imagine your hands running through my hair and inhaling the scent of my baby cologne. And then you imagine what it would be like to hold me and take me to dinner at the best place in town and to kiss me at the end of tonight.

But I was home thirty minutes later after you paid the bill.

And I gave you a hug and thanked you for the meal before you drove off into the night.

I was in pain for having hurt you,

Yet it wasn’t on the level you felt.

And so you got home and took of your best outfit. Washed the clay out of your hair

And the cologne I always loved

Threw yourself onto your bed and hugged your pillow,

Muffling your shouts of the agony from your heart, Thoughts drifting into the fool you’ve made out of yourself

That we could’ve happened if you’d had done things differently.

But the truth is that it wouldn’t have been any different.

I’m sorry I didn’t imagine what you imagined.

I’m sorry I didn’t feel the same way.

I’m sorry that I never noticed that you loved me another way, that I could’ve saved you from all this heartache if I’d known back then.

I’m sorry that things probably won’t go back to the way they were.

I hope you can find,

in what’s left of your heart,

To forgive me for tonight.