Writer's note:
Instead of referring to "characters" of mine by letters, how about a nick name? Hm, guess I need to nickname myself too. Blue it is.
And I've done it again. Confessed my feeling of "being charmed" to the charming subject, eight or nine months since our first chat, with the sidenote "Hey I'll get over it, I just wanna be friends! :)"
Of course I don't just want to be friends. And of course, 'charmed' expands to things like sexual attraction, nonsexual, longing, and excitement...which aren't exactly easy to get over. And great, this time the subject, let's call him Square, will remain very much in my life, on a weekly basis, once the summer passes.
I analyzed my text messages in my blue make-do-journal soon after, trying to understand the fuck I did...why the sudden urge to reveal myself to him. Two reasons were identified: One, I don't believe you feel the same way. Two, by the clearly unlikely chance that you also feel something deep...I'm not ready for a serious relationship. So, better to halt this thing before it gets real for the both of us.
And yee-haw, no need to worry about the latter reason at all. By the fact that he didn't respond, didn't go "You sure you only wanna be friends? Cause I'd like something more ;)", I have to conclude that whatever floats between us is one-sided, again. The mixed feeling of blues and relief is all I have to worry about now.
~ ~ ~
Fuck, he'll be infront of me in...perhaps half a minute. I should have turned down showing up...I mean, do we really need three bodies for this? Well, guess we do...a table-sitter, a pad-holder, and a show-off to bring some fresh faces into the magic of Taekwondo, yee-haw. I should have gotten eight hours of sleep for this.
"Look, people are coming in! Aww, look at them! So intimidated."
"Those are the rare, quiet ones. The packs of judgmental, got-nothing-better-to-do folks will crowd this place in no time. At least the loud asses will be away, getting high and drunk."
"New president! Don't be so hostile!" exclaims Doc, our ex-president who laughs at everything, "I know you're not a people person, but act like it! We've got two hours to go here!"
"...thanks for the reminder."
I can't help but smile at their interaction. It seems that in our club, ranging from to-be-nineteens to middle-aged breadwinners, from bright-eyed dreamers to disinflated souls, there's always room for amusing conversations.
"Wanna boost your energy with some kicks?" I suggest, trying to upright the heavy pad, "I still don't know which moves you'll be-"
"Hey," fuck, "Sorry I'm late."
"Nah, you're on time! We're still getting set up. There's just some early birds!"
"Yep, we still got LOTS of time. And sure, might as well. Hold it side-facing first, to your...left."
"Oh, yea, alright."
And he's in my sight, having circled to the other side of the table. He hasn't changed yet, instead dressed in that cute, mixed-colored flannel longsleeve which he wore to the TED event. He shaved, but his awkward, hay-colored bangs are getting long, covering his thick eyebrows. Blue-ish eyes meets mine, a bright smile...
I force myself not to break the eye contact, not until I utter a "hi". He returns a "hey". Here it is, the awkwardness. Yet, to be fair, it hasn't been normal for me since I realized my first sparks of attract-
