Think Before Speaking

"Remember," his mom said with her finger pointed at his chin. "Think before you speak." If he was any other twenty-four year old, he might brush her off with a disrespectful growl from the back of his throat. But Jonathan appreciated the reminder from his mom. He knew she was just trying to help. He had managed four years of high school and four years of college, but he rarely managed a second date.  Smart and witty, and crushingly handsome in a Clark Kent kind of way, his mouth always got him in trouble. The more he liked a girl, the more jammed his filter became. And the filter is what prevented him from considering how the words would land before he allowed them to take flight. The simple reminder to slow down as he left the house was both warranted and helpful. Unfortunately, it wasn't always effective and each time he asked a girl on a date, he hoped this time would be different. "Have fun! And smile," mom said as he walked out the door.

As he drove over to Heather's house, he thought about all of the reminders. A few seconds of silence is okay. Think first, talk next. It sounded so easy when he was alone. Don't try to be someone you're not, if you think of something complimentary, say it. Don't try to formulate something just to be nice. Those canned lines always sounded cheesy, and sometimes they didn't fit the situation. He was trying to remember to pause and say it in his head first. Then, if it sounded ok, say it again aloud. All of that sounded great until he was in front of the girl and feeling nervous. But he picked her up at her house with a brief hello to her roommate and they were off to Enzo's for some Italian food.

Enzo's was a small Italian restaurant on the edge of downtown. It was more than just a pizza joint, but the diners were dressed casual. It was just the right kind of restaurant to demonstrate you're not cheap, but you're not trying too hard to over-impress. Walls painted with murals of Italy, table cloths, and red booths made it just as comfortable for family dining, as it was for a couple on a date. They ordered drinks and dinner, and nibbled on bread while they waited for their food. As with most first dates, they started off with small talk. College, jobs, movies, all the usual topics for early twenty-somethings relatively fresh out of college. Jonathan felt insulated by the faint clanking of glasses and silverware against the dishes. He was starting to feel a little more confident.

The light accentuated the reddish hue in Heather's hair, and Jonathan was searching for the words to tell her how pretty he thought she was. Think before speaking, he reminded himself. He decided to wait. The server brought over their salads, and he felt a sense of relief knowing if they were eating, talk would be somewhat limited. This would give him time to regroup. They ate salad. Then they finished. More silent space hung between them while they waited for their entrees, and he only hoped she found him a bit mysterious, and not socially inept. He had one close call right before their plates were served when he said The U was a party school and people just go there because of the beach and the social scene. An architecture major at Miami, Heather seemed offended at first, but then laughed it off saying there was a lot of partying, but not by her because she was in the studio all the time. They enjoyed their dinner, talking mostly about the restaurant and the food.

He was feeling confident, so he looked her in the eyes and smiled. She looked into his eyes and smiled back. Then with a raised eyebrow and a smirk, he fired like little cannonballs out his mouth. "Your hair is really pretty, are you a real redhead?" And he swore to himself it didn't sound bad in his head, but he could see clearly she was offended. She looked out the window, and he could tell her teeth were clenched by the flexed jaw muscles bulging in the side of her face. She was tearing off little pieces of napkin and balling them up. He nervously played chess with the salt and pepper shakers. He knew he blew it and was just dying for a subject change. This time the silence was awkward. Man, maybe I try too hard.

"I'm sorry, that didn't come out right," he pleaded trying to recover.  She half smiled, almost as if to save herself from any more discomfort. "Really, I was just trying to say your hair is really beautiful." She smiled again and thanked him, probably out of pity. She seemed to believe him, but it was too late. The first date magic was gone. He wished to rewind a few minutes and reset his filter. He thought about explaining, but couldn't find the words. It probably wouldn't matter anyway. An indelible line was drawn between what was good, what just slipped out, and what went wrong. So he just took her home. There was a little more small talk, and she seemed to be over it. But he wouldn't know for sure until he tried to call her again.

When he got home, his mom was watching Late Night. She greeted him the same way she always did. "Well..."

"My stupid mouth got me in trouble again."

This story was inspired by John Mayer's song My Stupid Mouth from the Room for Squares album. Take a listen below- you'll hear some familiar lines.