I would say this female that I chose has quite a strong impression for me. We’ve only been exchanging messages for quite some time since we’ve come to know each other through the dating site.

And I chose to describe her as strong because she already gave me her phone number before we could even meet. I was not even seeking for her phone number in the very first place.

So for me, she has a strong personality.

It doesn’t suit her name at all. I have always thought her name would portray an adorable aura but in her language, by the fact that it’s just messages, she’s already out of my interest. I don’t like her way of talking, I repeat.

But today, we are bound to meet for the very first time.

My fair judgment, I think I chose the wrong girl. I didn’t like our previous conversations online; she is too vulgar and somewhat rebellious. I don’t like her at all but I don’t have a choice.

Facing my mirror, I check my whole physique for the last time. Miss Han Iseul informed me that she would be wearing a floral yellow dress. I don’t like it. I don’t think it would suit her personality. She talks like a rebellious boy. I am certainly not counting on it. . .

_ _ _

It’s her. I see her.

I have been waiting here in our agreed-upon restaurant for quite some time now. She is very much late but I don’t want to mind it, not today at least.

I would say. . . she seems far different from what I have observed in her language.

I don’t know why but the person I was to talking online doesn’t seem like her. Perhaps it wasn’t her? I am not very sure why would she let someone else talk to me but I am sensing some reservations from her as if she hasn’t talked to me before. She just stood there by the entrance of the restaurant and I know she knows I am looking straight at her.

I find myself sighing in relief. I seem to be vaguely wrong, just vaguely I repeat, about her.

I would like to continue this. Her physique alone seems adoring, I would admit. I don’t know why I found her adoring, I just did. The second I landed my eyes on her direction, my prefrontal area worked on its job fast and I came to judge her flawlessly right away.

I am quite fond of her now.

I think I might be too fast.

I don’t like it.

I am too fast, what is this.

Unwittingly of myself though, I stand from my seat and start walking her way. I don’t know why I am walking right now but she wasn’t moving on her spot. I have no other choice. As I walk, our eyes meet more intently and I begin considering the right words to tell her.

What do girls like to hear?

Tell me but if it’s too painful for my tongue to say, no thank you. I am perfectly fine by myself.

I reach her spot, stood right in front of her while adjusting my tie. Her eyes were tracing my whole body and I don’t like it. Why is she doing that? I wanted her to stop but it’s not a very preferable word to say in the first meeting. I faintly clear my throat first before opening my mouth to speak. “Hello.” I say the national greeting. She responds with an awkward-looking smile. “H-hi?” She asks.

Why is she asking me?

She doesn’t know how to respond?