Despite the personality I strap on for most of my encounters in the world, I am at the core a pretty shy person. Reserved. And a little insecure. Not inclined to bold gestures, devil-may-care approaches, or, you know, making eye contact. So when I do go for the bold gesture, it’s usually because I’ve A) had a drink or B) have an audience.
A couple of weeks ago, a guy I’ve noticed in my office building and seen regularly at my Metro stop turned up in a more unlikely place — the rogues gallery that is an online dating search page.
“Well, hello, you,” I thought. “We meet again.”
The profile wasn’t particularly compelling except for the fact that it shed some light on a man I see regularly enough to have begun painting my own picture of who he is and what his life is like.
Having had a glass or two of wine, I mustered up my boozy courage and sent him a message. Not a “run toward me in a field of heather” kind of message, more of a “this might sound crazy, but we work in the same building and live in the same neighborhood and I thought I’d say hi is this crazy I hope this isn’t crazy I swear I’m not crazy” sort of message.
He very nicely wrote back in a tone that could be the written equivalent of backing away slowly from a rabid animal, but I elect to see as neighborly and not at all afraid for his safety. Swear.
And now, because the universe likes to watch me squirm, I see this man EVERYWHERE. Last week, he was in the lobby as I left for happy hour and then turned up at the restaurant where I had dinner. Today, we had lunch at the same place.
And damned if I can’t muster the courage to say, “Well, hello, you.”