She puts on her size-6 Converse and waits by the gate, a cigarette might be nice but she doesn’t have the time
Doesn’t have the particular skill-set
And besides, if they do end up kissing he’ll think her breath awful
It probably is awful but she doesn’t care, can’t afford to
Some Extras wedged in the back pocket of her favourite skinnies and she’s always been good to go
It’s pretty dark – mid-evening – and soon she sees the light from his car
A Honda – nice
The gears are shifting down and he pulls closer to her, looking at her with what can only be lust
She knows she looks good, a little bit of hipster for the guitar player, if you will
He rolls down the passenger window and smiles, his teeth are perfectly yellow, he smokes too, probably
She zips up her hoodie and sits in, waiting
He places his arm across her thigh and straps her in, safety first, how impressed her mother would be
She waits again ’til nothing occurs, no cheek-kiss, no full-on smooch
He’s being a gentleman, then, not a bad thing but this is their third date… C’mon, fella!!
The drive is lovely, quiet but filled with Morrissey at the same time – she thinks Morrissey is an eejit but does like certain songs of his
He keeps looking at her shoes, seems he has a thing for Converse
Her date and not Morrissey, of course
Many men do, actually
Converse – pink usually – with pop-socks showing a little ankle
The closest they ever get to their parents’ era when less was certainly more