Like having butterflies in stomach, he was sitting and clock-watching, fidgeting with illusions. “Will she ask for a ride with me to the restaurant, alone or along with other colleagues? Will she ask me again to drive her home after dinner?” he pondered repeatedly. The jitters went on when finally she and other three guys were on his car. “How should I behave myself during the dinner, naturally or artificially?” his mind strayed, so did the car. “Where are you heading for? It’s Garden Restaurant.” She reminded him in the backseat. “Oops, I thought it is Country Club.” He apologized. Both restaurants were the office’s stamping grounds for off-hour gatherings; but how could a so smart guy as him make a mistake like that?

Subconsciously, he was reluctant to go to Garden Restaurant again. It had been a heartbreaking place to him. Last time when a party held there was over, he drove her home. He secured the privilege only because they were living in the same county, not far from each other. He is naturally reticent, even with some of his closest friends or colleagues, let alone with his superiors or the girl he’s been soft on, always shying away from revealing his feelings. En route to her home, she finally broke the deafening silence by telling him that she will take a vacation to Europe for a week or so. She couldn’t go alone, could she, but with whom? All of a sudden he recalled that she was the only unmarried child in the family living with her widowed mother, who was recently hospitalized and now was under convalescence. So her mother couldn’t go with her, who else? Instantly he thought of there must have been a “companion”, a boyfriend, go-steady one. “There must!” he yelled to himself, without uttering a word, though. Slowly he went to pieces, eyes glazed with despondency, deeply downhearted. “What’s matter, do you have things on your mind?” she noticed. “Nothing.” He replied with a straight face. “Then could you make a detour; I want to meet someone.” He nodded, but whom did she want to meet, her boyfriend? A sense of inferiority complex emerged from the very bottom of his heart.

He didn’t have to feel inferior to anybody. Since graduated from an elite high school and later a high-ranked college, he entered this prestigious company. Hard-working and intelligent, he should have climbed to a higher rung from entry-level after so many years, but he did not, despite being a highly laudable, sought-after worker. Barely 40, he had earned himself not any managerial position except a reputation among colleagues, which made him the man known of gentility, polymath and the toast of his specific field. His bosses always regarded him as a back burner and didn’t prioritize him in their name list. Why? Maybe he was too good to be true; maybe he was too self-effacing to take the initiative getting any opportunity. He had occasionally considered pursuing another vocation, but gradually he quitted the idea after she joined the company several years ago.

Before 30, he did date with a couple of girls, trying to get married and settle down. But the girls he dated almost always thought he was a nerd, an inhibited, dull person only created a heavy silence or atmosphere. All rendezvous discontinued not even close to becoming romances; however, all of his dates admitted that he was a good guy, debonair and knowledgeable, though not a good lover-to-be or a Mr. Right in kind; and all of them would say they are sorry. Characteristically, he did not possess himself a cheerful disposition, which would discourage most girls from accepting him. He then thought that he might stay single for the rest of his life, but her arrival rekindled his hopes of trying one last time. She was tall and slender, pretty and clever, always bearing sanguine smiles and healthy countenance, a nice lady but far from being a bimbo. “She is the one; she is my special angel.” He said to himself. An introvert like him, he did need a woman always of ebullient spirit by his side to give him a boost. He then took well care of her in every possible, inexplicit way either in business or in private matters, with all his heart. Her appearance always galvanized him into new and spasmodic life, and made his heart, even his voice, throb. The warmth of her somewhat provocative smiles always dazzled him to be at a loss. He fell for her already, got him stuck in a whirling vortex of unrequited passion. The passion was unrequited all right, but did she know that? Maybe or maybe not. Because of age gap, she regarded him as her elder brother, and took everything he did to her for granted. Yes, he cast admiring glances on her, but she was used to receiving them from various men, and he was just another man. How about his trembling lips and stammering tongue? She must think that she was not the one to blame. He naively assumed that someday he would steal her heart without taking any initiative like dared to ask her for a date. He should have asked. If she accepted, things could have changed; if not, he would have known better and braced earlier for the worst scenario, which occurred at that heartbreaking night. He was tossing and turning all night long, and his mind was like a kaleidoscope, full of poignant sentiments: jealousy, remorse and a sense of inferiority. Pathetically, he still harbored the fancy idea that he might stand a chance. Reason should give him a counsel of despair: “fat chance of that”, but the silly notion took precedence. Love is blind, a blind love is even blinder.

During the feast this evening, he totally lost appetite in front of a spread of food, ominously reckoning that someone would call her on the phone and come to pick up tonight. With a spark of hope, he prayed that it would not happen, so that he could drive her home once more. But when she excused herself and left the party early, he knew it did happen, and happened for good. With a heavy heart he lit a cigarette, slowly walking to the parking lot after the dinner. Before he handed over the ticket to the garage caretaker, he found a pharmacy nearby. Spontaneously he thought of that it’s high time he needed some hair tonic to tackle his started-going-bald head.