In which I buy a maternity dress and wear it for a date.

"Hey love, how are we dressing for tomorrow?" he texted me. The restaurant requires reservations but I hadn't anticipated tomorrow's outfit yet. I'll wear whatever I would have worn to a local pub. Something cute, nothing formal. But maybe I'll dress it up with fancy earrings.

"I have a black sweater dress I can wear," I text back.

"WOW," he replies.

"Easy there," I want to say. "It's a MATERNITY dress."

I don't say this though because I wouldn't be kidding.

I discovered that cute little black number at Target, instantly noticing that it wasn't too short.  

Yay! A sweater dress that doesn't require pants! (Believe it or not, that is rare.)

Most sweater dresses

I tried it on and it fit perfectly. I didn't notice until I got home that it was a maternity gown.

Pffft, whatever. It's comfortable.

Love. He's calling me "love" after only one date. But you know what? Fuckit. It feels nice to hear.

I like him and I want to be receptive. I want to keep my heart open. Try.

Love.

Love is complicated.

I still love someone else, I admit. I do it from inside my head. I hope to fall in love with someone who can love me back though.

Will it be him? Who knows. Time will tell. Or maybe it's the kiss that will tell. The kiss, a famous foreteller of chemistry, can make it or break it... we shall see.

Dear god, please don't let it be this!