I got my first manicure because of the woman from the mall

I had never stepped inside a nail salon before.

Then I helped a woman named Emily pick up her shopping bags at the mall, and one week later I was sitting at her manicure table trying to act like I had always cared about my cuticles.

My name is Mateo. I am 32, Hispanic, and live in Hot Springs, Arkansas.

I met Emily outside a clothing store. One of her bags tore, and everything fell onto the floor.

I helped her collect the clothes before people stepped on them.

Emily was 36, Vietnamese, curvy, and very pretty. She laughed at the situation instead of becoming embarrassed.

We talked for a few minutes while she reorganized everything. She mentioned that she worked as a nail tech nearby and handed me the salon’s business card because I joked that my hands probably needed professional help.

I thought about her for the rest of the week.

I could have asked for her number at the mall, but I was not sure whether she had only been friendly because I helped her.

So I booked a manicure at the salon.

When I walked in, Emily recognized me immediately.

She looked at my hands and asked whether I had really come for a manicure.

I said I wanted to try something new.

That was true, but it was not the main reason.

During the service, we talked about work, family, and how long we had lived in Hot Springs.

Emily told me she had been doing nails for more than ten years. She liked the work but hated when customers treated nail techs like they were invisible.

I told her she had been the most noticeable person in the mall that day.

She smiled but quickly changed the subject.

I could not tell whether she liked the compliment or thought I was flirting too much.

When she finished, my hands looked better than I expected.

I paid and stood near the front desk trying to find the courage to invite her to dinner.

Then another man walked in carrying food for her.

He knew her name and walked directly to her station.

I assumed he was her boyfriend.

I thanked Emily and left without asking.

For the next few days, I felt disappointed, even though nothing had actually happened between us.

Then Emily sent me a message through the salon’s appointment system asking whether everything was okay with my manicure.

I replied that it was great.

She asked why I had left so quickly.

I decided to be honest.

I told her I had wanted to invite her to dinner, but I thought the man bringing food was her boyfriend.

Emily replied that he was her younger brother.

I felt ridiculous.

Then she said she had wondered why I booked a manicure only one week after meeting her.

I admitted the manicure was partly an excuse to see her again.

She said she already knew because most first-time male customers did not look that nervous while choosing clear polish.

We went to dinner the following Sunday.

Emily later told me she had liked me at the mall, but she thought I was only being kind.

She also worried I might see her as too old or not my usual type.

I told her I had been worried about the same thing from the opposite side.

We have been dating for six months now.

I still get manicures, but not every week.

Emily says my hands have improved enough that I need to stop inventing reasons to sit at her table.

I tell her I no longer need an excuse.

Now I can just ask her to dinner.