Only You

It was the end of September, but the heat felt more like the middle of summer than the beginning of fall. My friends and I were picking out outfits for our end-of-summer party. We were going back to college the following week, so that night was supposed to be a symbolic goodbye to carefree days.

“Helen?” Mary asked, holding up a dress. “What do you think about this red one?”

I looked at it carefully. It was fine, but something about it didn’t feel right.

“I’m not sure,” I said honestly. “I think you’d look better in the green one. I’ve always thought green was your color. It really brings out your eyes.”

“I was thinking the same,” she said. “But maybe you should try the red one?” she added after a moment.

“Sure. I like red.”

I had long, dark brown curly hair, fair skin, and brown eyes. Sometimes I looked tired or a little too delicate, but red made me look bolder. Hotter. That alone made it worth trying on the dress.

I definitely felt more comfortable in flowy dresses than in super tight ones. The tight ones always made me feel too exposed, even though my body was fairly well-proportioned—sometimes more hourglass, sometimes more pear-shaped. I guess it depended on the day. I was five foot seven, and lately I’d caught myself actually liking what I saw in the mirror.

I tried the dress on. It fit well. It worked with my look.

I realized that recently I’d started taking better care of myself and liking myself more. And yet, despite that, I still hadn’t met “the one.” I couldn’t tell if I was being too picky or if no one had really impressed me enough yet.

There had been dates. A few. But most of them ended after the first one. While my two best friends were in steady relationships, I was starting to feel the pressure more and more—even if I never said it out loud.

I didn’t know then that this night would change a lot more than just the end of summer.