Nervous Nancy - Episode 1
by Eric Levin
I hate dating.
Just hate it.
I’d rather fantasize about a date than actually go on one.
I have no clue why I agreed to this blind date.
It’s so unlike me.
I mean, I haven’t dated in a while.
School got intense and I just kind of…gave up.
But Sandra INSISTED.
“My coworker Terrance is so charming and handsome. You’ll love him.”
I haven’t even SEEN the man.
And he’s never seen me.
What if he doesn’t find me attractive?
He doesn’t know how awkward I am.
Look at me. I’m shaking just applying my make-up.
But I do look good in this dress…
30 minutes later
I didn’t count on it being so humid outside.
My hair’s frizzing up and I’m starting to sweat.
Darn it. I’m not even at the restaurant yet.
Why dress up if you’re just gonna sweat?
What a waste.
All existence is just a road toward decay.
Am I going to ruin my first date with Terrance?
Stop it, Nancy.
Would I LIKE to fall madly in love and get married in the Bahamas?
Sure.
But I’m not getting my hopes up.
This sweat is making my anxiety worse.
And now I’m sweating more.
It’s triggering a biofeedback loop of excretion that’s eroding my confidence.
My body’s basically become a Biochemical weapon.
5 minutes later
Okay, made it to the restaurant.
I’m ten minutes early.
I don’t think Terrance is here yet…
I’ll just wait in the doorway.
And there he is.
Nope. False alarm.
This entrance light is putting me under a kind of spotlight.
God I’m nervous.
I feel like I have stage fright.
Stop it, Nancy.
Nobody’s paying attention.
I’m just background fodder.
Ugh, I can’t stop fidgeting.
I need to stop glancing over at the floor.
Now if Terrance comes he’ll see how anxious I am.
Why are you such a failure, Nancy?
No, stop it.
You’re a strong, smart, confident woman.
People keep looking at me.
Do I acknowledge their presence?
I’ll just nod my head as they walk by.
Well now I look like a bobble head doll.
The best compromise is to look at nothing in particular.
I’ll just look around the restaurant…
Casually…
Shift my weight between my knees…
And sort of scan the bar in repetitive, focused movements…
Like a lawn sprinkler.
What if he doesn’t show?
I can’t just leave.
Everyone will know I’ve been stood up.
If he doesn’t show in ten minutes, I’ll order something light.
Like a salad.
But won’t they wonder why I waited at the door so long if I haven’t been stood up?
I can’t stay.
I don’t want to stay.
I’ll wait ten minutes.
Then, if my presumably handsome blind date hasn’t shown up, I will:
Make a gesture, like I’m checking my watch…
Step outside, as though keen for a better view of the street…
And briskly cross the block, take a subway, enter my apartment…
And wolf down a pint of mint chocolate chip ice cream in front of the TV.
I’ll watch some sort of comfort food reality show.
Good plan, Nancy.
In fact, I like it so much I’m starting to regret going on a date at all.
A pint of ice cream is the perfect boyfriend.
It offers a myriad of pleasures and asks for nothing in return.
It certainly won’t stand you up at a restaurant on a rainy Friday night.
Although it will melt on you if you’re not too careful.
Man.
I’m tempted to just leave right now…
Lock myself in my apartment and have at that ice cream.
But what if Terrance shows up seconds after I leave?
Come morning, I’ll no doubt get a call from Sandra…
She’ll be whining, “Nancy, Nancy, what did you DO? Terrance said you were nowhere to be found.”
She’ll be so upset she’ll probably never set me up again.
Which is actually an appealing thought…
I’m starting to think I’d rather die alone than go on this date…
No.
You promised Sandra.
She’s your sister and you promised her and you will fulfill your promise.
So it’s settled.
I’ll wait the remaining four minutes.
Followed by an additional five-minute cushion.
Then it’s ice cream time.
And if Terrance shows up after the five minute cushion…
And Sandra calls me tomorrow…
Well, it serves them right!
Leaving me here under the glare of these overhead lights…
Bobbing my head and shifting my weight…
Scanning the room like a lawn sprinkler waiting to break.
God, I’m a mess.
I’m essentially bathing in my own sweat.
Why does that guy by the door keep looking at me?
He can probably smell the anxiety.
Shoot.
He’s coming over.
OH GOD
Nancy?
…Terrance?
This is Terrance?
Woah.
He’s cute.
Like, I don’t want to objectify the guy but…
I could toast S’mores off his chest.
Why’s he going on blind dates anyway?
Is he going to murder me?
Does he keep women in his wine cellar?
I bet Sandra planned this.
I forget her birthday one lousy time, and now she wants me murdered in a wine cellar.
Were you waiting long?
It felt like forever.
It was nothing.
You look lovely.
You look chiseled from stone.
I want to kiss you and put you in a museum.
Thanks.
I’m sorry I’m late…
Were you…watching me?
I was nervous…
Honestly, it’s been a while since I’ve done this.
Gone on a date, that is.
Law school’s had me swamped.
What is this feeling?
It’s a swelling in my chest.
Am I happy to be here?
I know the feeling.
Shall we sit?
App