Me: still confused
You: the elusive chanteuse
You were the roommate of a friend of mine, and I can’t say it was ever a super active crush. Besides a pack of mutual friends, we really didn’t have much in common. It was more that any time we were together in a social situation, I would remember that I found you very attractive, and as the night wore on I would feel an increasing urge to put my face on your face.
It seemed at times that perhaps you felt similarly, but any time we were out somewhere and I felt a vibe, something would go hilariously wrong. One night a group of us were out at a bar and the eye contact felt very pointed and I just knew in my heart that the time was right and that we were definitely going to kiss before the night was through. At just the right moment, Cher’s “Believe” came on over the PA and an oblivious mutual friend barged in, raving, “I love this song!!!!! Don’t you guys love this song?!?!?!” The moment evaporated instantly.
A few months later, you and I were both invited to a weekend vacation in Rhode Island with a bunch of friends, primarily couples. This seemed promising! I was looking forward to hanging with our friends, but I was also keenly aware that there would certainly be a moment where both of us would be drunk and on the beach and everyone else would be wrapped up with their partners and we could definitely skip out and make out without anybody giving us shit. I looked forward to this trip all week, and when I showed up at the train station with my bag in hand I casually (SO CASUALLY) asked your roommate when you were meeting us. “Oh,” she told me,“she’s not coming! She felt really sick so she’s staying home.” As the color drained from my face, I resisted the urge to drop to my knees and shout “NOOOOOOO” at the heavens. The trip was fine, I third wheeled it all weekend like I knew I would, and this crush continued to evade me. Nothing piques my interest like an impossible situation!
From time to time, you would text me when you were out in the neighborhood where I worked, letting me know that you just happened to be a little bit tipsy at a bar down the street. At this point, it seemed pretty obvious that this was going to happen EVENTUALLY, but the circumstances never lined up and I was so busy playing it cool that I never bothered to try to plan anything. I figured if it was meant to happen, it’d happen.
Finally, one such night, I magically got out of work early and met you at a bar on Grand Street. You’d been texting me about pumpkin spice martinis, which I will never forget because they sounded disgusting. I’m not sure we even talked a whole lot when I got there, but we did make out on the sidewalk. It felt… triumphant. The stars had finally aligned to bring my dreams to fruition! All of a sudden, your roommate popped her head in to tell you she was taking off and you left with her; you guys did everything together and I didn’t take that part personally. We spoke about hanging out again before you hastily departed, and I went home a little starry-eyed.
I tried to text a few days later, checking in to make sure we were still buds and that things weren’t weird between us, leaving the door open to hopefully remain pals if you had any regrets. You left me on read. Actually, you never responded to a single message or talked to me in any capacity ever again. That made me feel… pretty terrible actually! I wasn’t mad necessarily, but was worried I’d made you uncomfortable somehow. It felt like a waste after months – possibly years? – of excellent Facebook banter and sly smirks at bars, to have it end in such a silly and awkward way. This crush has stuck out in my mind all these years later, mostly because it was so much build-up and such an immediate fizzle. What the heck was that?
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