I went on something that was probably a date. The jacket, buttoned down shirt, and the enclosed shoes signified date above other possible interactions. That and the cagey-creased look around his eyes. In natural response, I did not look directly at him and made eye contact in sidelong splashes of blue, fibrous with perpendicular hit of last light. We took a turn around Victoria Park and there was a lot of wind, which I found irritating as it meant I could not for sure control the shape of my face; i.e. framed by hair. Do you think I got this $90 layering done for nothing? No, spare me insecurities. I did not look at him as we walked down Glebe Point Road, quipping about overlapping interests; I stared resolutely ahead and tried to remember if I looked good in profile. I hope a litany of alternative explanations for my particular behaviour were considered. Hopefully not “aloofness”, because I spend time actively not being a snob and disarming the pride alarm.