I've been staring at my mirror for the past hour, at least.

What am I going to wear?

Ann - my 'friend' - has a lot of opinions.

If I wear something too revealing Jim will think I'm a slut.

If I dress up he'll think I'm trying to impress him - and I am trying to impress him,

obviously, but isn't it shallow to dress fancy on a first date?

Shouldn't he like me for me?

I'm running out of time to decide.

Clothes are everywhere.

I didn't even know I still had that bra.

“If you don't decide soon you're not even going to be there on time.

You can't show up late - he's already going to think you're shallow" says Ann;

and I try to ignore her.

I feel a lurch in my stomach.

My palms are sweaty.

I want to be sick.

She's right - Ann is usually right.

I'm going to be late.

I leave in jeans and a sweatshirt.

”Hey, isn't this a dinner date?

Who wears jeans and a sweatshirt to a dinner date?”

Ann tells me, but only once I'm actually on the train, and my wardrobe is miles behind.

I wonder if the train's going to break down.

I wish that the train will break down.

When I get to the place, I almost forget our reservation.

I ask the server for Jim, but the server's smile falters.

“Maybe it's not Jim,” Ann texts me, at just the wrong time.

She's trying to get me to leave.

“Maybe it's Jarrod.

It started with a J, are you sure that's his name?

Maybe he booked it under James.

Maybe he isn't here at all.

They'll kick you out!”

My heart is hammering in my chest.

For a second it's so overwhelming I can't breathe, and I look around desperately,

and then - there!

At the back of the room, that's where he is: Jim.

He lifts a hand, so I can see him.

It's so relieving for a second I forget that I'm scared.

“I'm with him. I'm just sitting with him, I've found him. Thanks.”

I drop into my seat after crossing the restaurant and being stared at the entire way there.

It's a relief.

I managed.

I got here.

I'm okay.

“Jim's still there, you know.

You still have to talk to him,” Ann reminds me.

She's somewhere in the building - she sees everything.

She's always with me.

“Oh my god, have you looked around?

Everyone's dressed nicely.

Why are you wearing jeans?!”

“Hi,” Jim says, warmly.

He's trying to smile.

Trying to be nice.

I don't need to ask Ann what she thinks about this: he thinks I'm a freak.

“Hello,” I answer.

“Shake his hand,” Ann eggs me on, because that's how you greet people,

and without thinking I shoot a hand out across the table.

It hits Jim's wine glass, which wobbles, then topples over,

The wine spills all out over the tablecloth and over him.

“Oh, nice going,” Ann is sarcastic, “real good job, there.”

“Oh, god, I'm sorry!

I'm so sorry -” I start, already grabbing some napkins.

Jim interrupts me.

He's laughing, and he doesn't seem mad.

“It's okay!

Really -”

The napkins are all soaked through, now, and I throw them down, exasperated.

“God, I'm sorry, I can't do anything right.”

”Sit down,” says Jim.

He's more sincere now.

He catches my hands, to stop them moving.

“Really.

Honestly, it's okay.

I can wash the suit; I'm not angry.

Okay?”

That's easy for him to say.

I sit back down, and try to ignore the way it feels like chains are tying me to the chair,

pulling tighter and tighter.

It's time that I say something else, but I'm still watching him.

He takes his phone out and sets it on the table,

so that the wine doesn't soak through and ruin it.

I open my mouth, and the phone starts ringing.

I snap it shut again, to avoid interrupting.

Ann smiles.

“Oh,” Jim says, when he looks at the caller ID.

He stands at the same time, like 'oh' and standing go together.

He looks at me and my cheeks burn.

“I need to - something's come up. I'm really sorry.

Can I call you? I need to take this, it's my aunt. She's really sick. I just - need to take this.

” He doesn't wait for an answer.

Already, Jim is walking out the door.

Already, he is running away.

I stare after him.

“Well, that lasted,” says Ann, unkindly.

Hello, bedroom. Hello, pajamas.

If I just stay in you forever I don't need to visit the outside world, right?

I groan. God, he hates me! What was I thinking?!

I throw the covers off me. Stupid.

Stupid, stupid, stupid! It would have been fine!

If I didn't have to scare him off with being anxious then none of this would have happened!

She's on the end of my bed. I want to cry. “I hate you!”

”You need me.” The answer is immediate.

"You need me because Jim hates you.

Because everyone hates you and I'm the only one who sticks by your side.

Don't you remember? We've been together since day one, Ann.”

"Stop! You always make me doubt myself."

I cover my face with a pillow and resist the urge to scream.

This is impossible. I hate it. I hate this - living with her, like this.

Every single day I have to pretend I don't hear her. I have to convince myself she's lying.

The entire day's been ruined.

I hate dating with anxiety.

How will Ann overcome her anxiety?

Follow us to find out.