really, she just wanted to scream at him, "you can't say those things!" how did he not know that it was the nice words, the kind words, the loving words that hurt most of all? she knew, she couldn't let herself believe any of it. couldn't let it sink in and root, for fear that it might grow and spread like a virulent fungus.

in her mind she ran through all the possibilities. maybe he meant it as a joke. maybe he was drunk. maybe he thought you were someone else. maybe that knock on the head you gave him last week finally settled in to extreme brain damage and he has no idea what he's saying. that's it. it's a sort of sort of word-salad that coincidentally came out as, "i love you". it could have been any other words or complete nonsense. "garbage dimple wait" might have just as easily come out of his mouth.

so it's aphasia. now she could breathe.

but, what if, she though, what if he hadn't been joking or drunk or mistaken or linguistically damaged? what if he had meant it? did he mean it as a friend? it didn't sound like the "love ya's" that get thrown about at the end of day with the girls. and certainly guys don't shout out "love's" after a round of football and beer? do they? she did remember that night, when they were all a little too high and buzzed off the '6 buck chuck' that she'd picked up at trader joes. he got a little mushy and slushy of speech and said, "i love you guys" right as the pizza came out of the oven. but that too, that's different. that was aimed at a group (or the characters on 'will and grace' that danced across the scene, she really can't be sure thinking back).

she was getting angry now. it had started off as a blush of the cheek and a 'charlie brown' kick at the dust moment, but it had turned into deep magenta, volcanic rage that threatened to burn her up from the inside out. "you just can't say that to someone!" open your mouth, she admonished herself, tell him, blugeon him they way he just did you. sling a "fuck you too" right back at him. because that's was what this was amounting to. because really. if she had let herself think for one moment that what he said was real, she'd get used to it. she'd get comfortable with the idea. she might even hope/expect/need to hear it again. and that, that's where the real trouble starts. because that's when you never hear it again.

"you're amazing, you know?". what the hell did he think he was doing? could he not see that she was seething with confusion? christ, this guy has balls! it's been less than a minute and he's lobbed two... TWO... of these at her. she couldn't recover.

her body was betraying her though. that warmth, that flutter, it was all starting. she might even have been starting to smile. STOP IT, she commanded herself. she had waited so long for those words to slip from someone's heart. her head was going one way and her body and heart the other. she felt like a wishbone on thanksgiving, being yanked apart by two snotnosed, grease-mouthed children.

she watched his mouth begin to open again. damn, he's going to say something else. damn he's pretty. "you too", she said. maybe that will stall him. she'd seen him start to form a word, like watching a car skidding out of of control in painfully slow motion. she'd seen it and stopped it. but, "you too," was that the best she could come up with? hey, at least it had worked. nope, he's doing it again. forming words. bad, stop, please, no more. i beg you.

he's twitching. it's a tic. no, it's a stoke, she knew it, he's not thinking straight. oh, he's reaching into his pocket. "phone's on vibrate, let me get this" he says. "go for it, i gotta get out of here anyway. i'll see ya" she half whispers/half speaks.

and she's out the door and breathing free in less time than it takes for an embolism to rupture. digging into her purse, she roots around for her own phone. a quick flip and dial and her sister is on the line. "how did it go?" her sister asks.

"third dates are the worst!" she says, "you just never know where they're gonna go".