Chapter 15: The Dating Confidence
The Apple investment is two weeks old and up 40%. Howard and Raj still think I'm insane. Leonard's stopped commenting entirely—either he's worried about me or he's accepted that I make weird financial decisions.
I'm not thinking about any of that right now.
Because Melissa just walked into my shop.
She comes in every Saturday around 2 PM. Has for the past six weeks. Always heads straight to the manga section, spends twenty minutes browsing, asks my opinion on new releases. She's got good taste—prefers character-driven stories over action spectacles, likes series that take risks with narrative structure.
Also, she's beautiful. Dark hair, great smile, wears band t-shirts for musicians I've actually heard of.
And she's been lingering longer each week.
Today she's examining the new Fruits Basket volume, but her attention keeps drifting to the counter where I'm updating inventory. Every time I look up, she looks away quickly.
She's interested. I'm pretty sure she's interested.
The old Stuart—the original Stuart whose body I'm wearing—would've agonized over this for weeks. Constructed elaborate scenarios. Talked himself out of it. The old me from my previous life wouldn't have been much better.
But I'm not either of them anymore. The Attractiveness power has been building with each success. The shop expansion. The Bitcoin gains. The Apple investment that's already profitable. Every win creates this subtle shift in how I carry myself. How I talk to people.
"Hey Melissa." I walk over, casual. No overthinking. "You finding everything okay?"
"Yeah, just deciding between these two." She holds up Fruits Basket and something called Ouran High School Host Club. "Have you read either?"
"Fruits Basket is solid. Emotional, character-focused. The Host Club one is more comedy. Depends what you're in the mood for."
"Emotional works." She puts back the comedy. "I've had a weird week. Could use something that makes me feel things."
"Bad weird or just weird?"
"Work stuff. My boss is..." She trails off, laughs. "You know what, you don't need to hear about my job drama."
"I've got time." And I do. Saturday afternoon, shop's quiet, and I genuinely want to hear about her week.
We end up talking for twenty minutes. She works at a graphic design firm, loves the creative side but hates the corporate politics. Her boss keeps rejecting ideas without explanation. She's thinking about going freelance but scared of losing stability.
I relate to that. The fear of leaving safety for possibility. Tell her about opening the shop, how terrifying it was, how it's working out despite the terror.
"You're really easy to talk to," she says, leaning against the manga shelf. "Like, actually easy. Not just polite-conversation easy."
"Thanks. So are you."
She tucks hair behind her ear—nervous gesture I've started recognizing thanks to the enhanced social awareness. "I should probably let you get back to work."
"Or—" The words come out before I can second-guess them. "—want to grab coffee sometime? Not here. Like, actual date coffee."
Her face lights up. Actually lights up. "Really?"
"Yeah. Friday evening?"
"Yes! Definitely yes." She's pulling out her phone. "Give me your number."
I recite it. She texts immediately so I have hers. We set up 7 PM Friday at the coffee shop two blocks over.
After she leaves—floating out the door, literally bouncing—I turn to find Leonard and Sheldon staring at me from the back issue section.
"What?" I ask.
"You just asked out a customer," Leonard says slowly. "Casually. Without stuttering or spiraling into anxiety."
"She's not just a customer. She's been coming here for weeks."
"Stuart." Sheldon sets down the comic he was pretending to organize. "Three months ago you demonstrated significant social anxiety. Now you're exhibiting confident romantic initiative with no visible distress response. The transformation is statistically anomalous."
"People change, Sheldon."
"Not this rapidly. Not without external intervention or significant psychological event."
Like dying and absorbing supernatural powers in the void between dimensions?
"The shop's doing well," I say instead. "Success breeds confidence. You've said that yourself—positive feedback loops in social development."
"I've said that about structured conditioning over extended periods. Your timeline is compressed."
Leonard's watching this exchange with interest. "Are you actually psychoanalyzing Stuart's ability to ask out a girl?"
"I'm identifying aberrant patterns."
"It's not aberrant. He's just gotten more confident." Leonard turns to me. "Right? You're just feeling good about the shop, about life. That translates to social confidence."
"Exactly."
"But the mechanism of transformation—" Sheldon starts.
"Sheldon," Leonard interrupts. "Let it go. Stuart asked out a girl. She said yes. That's good. We're happy for him."
Sheldon considers this. "I suppose happiness for friends' romantic success is the socially appropriate response. Very well. Stuart, I express satisfaction regarding your successful romantic initiative."
"Thanks, buddy."
After they leave, I sit behind the counter and really think about what just happened. Not the date—that's exciting but straightforward. The fact that I asked without hesitation. Without that crushing anxiety that used to accompany any romantic interest.
The powers are working. The Attractiveness power specifically—each genuine success creates permanent incremental improvements to confidence, social grace, physical presence. I've had enough successes now that the compound effect is noticeable.
Walking Dead prediction: success. Iron Fist investment: success. Bitcoin: success. Apple stock: success. Wil Wheaton connection: success. Tournament organization: success. Shop expansion planning: success.
Each win built on the last. Each confidence boost making the next interaction easier. And now I'm asking out women without spiraling into panic.
Is this still me? Or is it the power?
The question sits uncomfortable in my chest. Because the confidence feels real. The ease of conversation with Melissa felt genuine. But it's all built on supernatural advantages that nobody knows about.
I pull out my secret notebook, add a new entry:
Asked out Melissa. She said yes. Friday 7 PM. The Attractiveness power is working exactly as described—incremental improvements from genuine successes. Each win makes the next one easier.
Question: At what point does the power stop being a tool and start being who I am? If confidence comes from successes that came from powers, is the confidence real?
Answer: Doesn't matter. Results are real. The relationship will be real. That's enough.
I close the notebook and try to believe it.
Friday comes faster than expected. I spend Wednesday evening getting unsolicited date advice from the gang.
"Take her somewhere quiet," Leonard suggests. "Coffee shop is perfect. You can actually talk."
"Maintain appropriate eye contact," Sheldon adds. "Seventeen seconds is optimal. Longer suggests aggression, shorter suggests disinterest."
"Don't count seconds," Howard says. "Just be yourself. But like, the good version of yourself."
"What if myself isn't good?" I ask, half-joking.
"Your 'yourself' just asked out a hot girl who actually said yes. That's pretty good."
Raj nods enthusiastically. "The universe has aligned in your favor. Trust the cosmic flow."
The advice is all over the place but weirdly helpful. By Friday at 6:45, I'm showered, wearing my least-wrinkled button-down, and only moderately terrified.
The date goes perfectly.
Melissa shows up right on time, wearing a dress that suggests she put actual effort into this. We order coffee—she gets some complicated caramel thing, I get black coffee like a boring person—and fall into conversation that flows like water.
We talk about everything. Her design work. My shop. Comics and manga and the overlap between American and Japanese storytelling traditions. Her college years studying art. My... well, I tell her Stuart's college years, because mine don't exist in this timeline.
She laughs at my jokes. I laugh at hers. There's this moment around 8:30 where we both reach for sugar at the same time and our hands touch and neither of us pulls away immediately.
Walking her to her car afterward, she turns to me. "This was really nice."
"Yeah. Really nice."
"Want to do it again?"
"Absolutely."
We exchange this ridiculous grin, both of us clearly pleased and trying not to show how pleased. Then she kisses me—quick, soft, exactly right for a first date.
"Text me," she says, getting in her car.
"I will."
I walk back to my apartment floating six inches off the ground. My phone buzzes before I even reach the door.
Melissa: Had a great time. Next week?
Stuart: Definitely. Dinner?
Melissa: Perfect :)
Inside my apartment, I collapse on the couch and stare at the ceiling. Three months ago I was alone, failing, terrified. Now I have friends who give dating advice. A successful business. Investment portfolios that are outperforming expectations.
And a girlfriend.
The thought sends electricity through my chest. Girlfriend. Or potential girlfriend. We haven't defined it yet but that's the trajectory.
The powers made this possible. The confidence came from successes that came from supernatural knowledge. But the connection with Melissa? The conversation, the laughter, the kiss?
That was real.
I choose to believe that.
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