Is There a Ghost in My House
I don't think I've gone out with as many different girls as I have since recently moving to Portland. It's been about a month and the tally's at 3. And hey that's a lot for me! I've been talking to quite a few, building what I call a foundation, I suppose, to see where each one could possibly lead. It's nice to see the differences and see the instant connection, perhaps, if not, they sometimes I lose interest pretty quickly. I have a short attention span I guess. I don't know what it is. Maybe I know exactly what I'm looking for and haven't found it yet. Or maybe I just have really, really high fucking standards. I'm still trying to figure it out.
Well, so I went out to Empire Thursday night with the aforementioned girl from my previous post- the one I met at a bar. We really hit it off, I think. We went to see the Fog Cutters, swing dancing band, of which my buddy Brian happens to play in.
This girl and I ended up hanging out in the bar downstairs for an hour or so, talking and drinking (her, alcohol and me, water, of course). And now, I have to mention how Empire's tables only have benches, no chairs that I could find, so this girl and I sat right next to each other- which made it hard for constant eye-contact, which I am a stickler for, but then again, it had another advantage-- we were next to each other, so physical contact was much easier. Occasionally during our conversation, I felt the faint brush of her arm, accidental or not, or she would touch my arm-- and now I'm not a wiz when it comes to the subtleties of flirting, but I do know that these are all good things. Messages received. We laughed. We talked. Things were going well.
A girl who happened to be a photography magor at MECA then came over and asked if we could pose for a series of a few photos for a project she was doing. Ever the need to be the center of attention, I said, Of course! It involved taking shots (I took a shot of water, in case you were wondering). We laughed. Good time, so far. And this isn't the kind of story that ends badly, so to speak. Just, rather, anti-climatic.
Because here's the thing. Although I can usually pick up on a few of the signs a girl throws my way, I am ever the shy-introverted dude I have always been when it comes to making a move on a girl. I fucking hate it with a passion, being the one to do it first.
So, we were standing outside her apartment, still chatting, and I know the moment has come where we "share" a moment of awkward "where is this going next?" thinking. I want to move in, but like an invisible force field I can't do it. I have a mental block of the fear of rejection, although I don't feel as though I will be at this moment. I always hesitate and in that moment of hesitation, all hope is lost.
I walk home, alone, distraught, dejected, unhappy with myself.
Hoping there's another chance.
Well, so I went out to Empire Thursday night with the aforementioned girl from my previous post- the one I met at a bar. We really hit it off, I think. We went to see the Fog Cutters, swing dancing band, of which my buddy Brian happens to play in.
This girl and I ended up hanging out in the bar downstairs for an hour or so, talking and drinking (her, alcohol and me, water, of course). And now, I have to mention how Empire's tables only have benches, no chairs that I could find, so this girl and I sat right next to each other- which made it hard for constant eye-contact, which I am a stickler for, but then again, it had another advantage-- we were next to each other, so physical contact was much easier. Occasionally during our conversation, I felt the faint brush of her arm, accidental or not, or she would touch my arm-- and now I'm not a wiz when it comes to the subtleties of flirting, but I do know that these are all good things. Messages received. We laughed. We talked. Things were going well.
A girl who happened to be a photography magor at MECA then came over and asked if we could pose for a series of a few photos for a project she was doing. Ever the need to be the center of attention, I said, Of course! It involved taking shots (I took a shot of water, in case you were wondering). We laughed. Good time, so far. And this isn't the kind of story that ends badly, so to speak. Just, rather, anti-climatic.
Because here's the thing. Although I can usually pick up on a few of the signs a girl throws my way, I am ever the shy-introverted dude I have always been when it comes to making a move on a girl. I fucking hate it with a passion, being the one to do it first.
So, we were standing outside her apartment, still chatting, and I know the moment has come where we "share" a moment of awkward "where is this going next?" thinking. I want to move in, but like an invisible force field I can't do it. I have a mental block of the fear of rejection, although I don't feel as though I will be at this moment. I always hesitate and in that moment of hesitation, all hope is lost.
I walk home, alone, distraught, dejected, unhappy with myself.
Hoping there's another chance.
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