I went back for the conversation, not the manicure

I met Jason while digging through a box of old records at a flea market outside Searcy.

I had spotted an album I remembered from growing up, and just as I reached for it, another hand landed on the same cover. That hand belonged to Jason. We both pulled back, then laughed about how serious people can get over a five-dollar record.

I was 37, white, blonde, and probably looked more determined to buy it than I actually was. Jason was 31 and Korean American. He told me to take the record, but I said we should at least check if it was scratched before either of us fought over it.

We ended up standing there talking longer than expected. He knew a lot more about old music than I did. During the conversation, he mentioned that he worked as a nail tech at a salon in town.

I had never had a manicure from a male nail tech before. I did not think much about it until a few days later, when I noticed my nails looked rough and remembered where he said he worked.

That was the reason I gave myself for going.

Jason recognized me when I walked into the salon. He looked surprised but did not make a big deal out of it. I chose a simple manicure because I was not someone who wore long nails or bright designs. Most of the appointment was us talking about music, local restaurants, and places around Arkansas we had both visited.

He was easygoing, but not overly familiar. I liked that. Some people ask personal questions too quickly, especially in a small town where everyone seems to know someone you know. Jason let the conversation happen naturally.

I booked another appointment a few weeks later.

My nails did need maintenance, although probably not badly enough to explain why I checked his schedule before choosing a day. The second appointment went by too fast. The third one did too.

After a while, I noticed I was paying more attention to what I wanted to tell him than what color I wanted on my nails. I would save small stories from my week because I knew he would understand why they were funny. When something reminded me of an old song, I thought about bringing it up during my next appointment.

That was when the situation started bothering me.

Jason was working. Being friendly was part of his job, and I did not want to confuse good service with romantic interest. I also did not want to make him uncomfortable by turning his workplace into a dating situation.

So I skipped my next appointment.

A month passed before I returned. Jason asked if everything had been okay with my last manicure. I told him the nails were fine. I had stayed away because I was starting to look forward to seeing him a little too much.

I expected an awkward answer. Instead, he said he had noticed the same thing happening to him, but he did not feel comfortable asking me out while I was paying for an appointment.

We agreed to meet for lunch the following week.

Our first date was not fancy. We ate at a casual place, talked for almost two hours, and did not mention nail polish once. It felt different seeing him away from the salon, but in a good way.

I still gemwatt 2gdt manicures, just not nearly as often. Jason sometimes tells me my nails looked better when I was trying to find reasons to see him.

He is probably right. Somewhere between that flea market record and my third manicure, the appointment stopped being the part I cared about.