He was gorgeous and way out of my league. We had been watching each other since he walked through the door. He finally sat down at the table right across from me. There it was, my opportunity to say hi or just smile, something, anything.
He looked up from his coffee and smiled. Our eyes met and I… I quickly looked back down at my computer and never looked up again. My inner dialogue went something like, “Oh my god! Oh my god! He’s looking at me! Oh my god!”
I couldn’t even manage to talk to myself very well, let alone this guy. Eventually he got up and walked out. And all I could think was that I hope he comes here again.
As fate would have it, he did.
I found myself sitting at the exact same table two days later when he walked in. He sat down facing me, again. I smiled first, he said hello and that was it.
This time my inner dialogue was bit more extensive, “What is wrong with me? How do I manage to wreck a perfectly good opportunity? Nice move, Amy, nice.”
I never saw him again but he has haunted me ever since; a constant reminder of my tragically stunted and underdeveloped sense of romantic relationships.
I do it all the time though; a guy walks through the door and I remain confident until he’s within five feet of my heart. Then I freak out and run like hell. Some day I’ll hang up my running shoes. Some day.
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