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Home›Nonfiction›Creativity›Knock Knock

Knock Knock

By Noelle Hoyne
August 19, 2019
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Photo by Tirachard Kumtanom from Pexels

The storm outside matched my mood. The rain splattered against the windows, and every few minutes, lightning lit up the trees outside, bent against the harsh wind. I usually loved rainstorms and liked to watch from my wide front porch, swaying back and forth on my white wooden porch swing, but I wasn’t ready for that today. Today was for staying inside, eating popcorn, and watching movies.

I sat on my white couch with a Coke and popcorn, feeling rather sorry for myself. James, my boyfriend as of last night, called to tell me he “met someone recently,” and it was “time for us to go our separate ways.” It’s not like I was in love with him, but this was the third breakup I’ve had due to “meeting someone new recently.” I wasn’t sure if I should have laughed or cried when he called me. He was surprised by how well I took the news and was a little flustered when I wished him well and ended the conversation with no tears. I think he was hoping for begging and tears, but I like to think I have a little self-pride.

Today though, I was feeling a little…frustrated. How do I meet these guys who seem to move on so quickly? Is it something I’m doing that makes them look the other way or a flaw of theirs? I’d like to meet someone and know that I have their full attention. To know they aren’t still flirting on the sideline in case something better comes along. I want to be that someone better. I think it’s time for a dry spell: no dating, no flirting, no men.

“Do you hear that, God?” I said, looking up at the ceiling. “No men. No dating. I am taking a break. Seriously, I’m done.”

I walk over to the kitchen sink and rinse out the popcorn bowl. “In fact, I’ll only date men who knock on my door,” I said. “Cause that happens all the time.” I smiled, plan made.

I had barely turned off the faucet when there was a knock on my door. I freeze, hands twisted in the towel I was using to dry my hands. I peek around the corner to the front door, willing whoever is behind it to be a woman. Or someone I know.

Wait. What is wrong with me? Shaking my head and chuckling to myself, I throw the towel on the island, walk down the hallway, and open the door. What are the chances a man will be standing there to ask me on a date? I freeze, smile stiff on my lips. Well, perhaps God did hear me for standing on my doorstep is Nathan, my very single and very attractive neighbor who’s already asked me out once. From the look on his face, I can see he might just get it into his head to ask again. He did knock my door, right?

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Noelle Hoyne

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