He told me he had to leave because his friend was going home, and before I could say anything, he was gone. We had been dancing together, holding hands. Somehow, neither of us had managed the slightly more practical business of exchanging numbers.
It was Halloween night, and I had gone out dancing with a few girlfriends. Halfway through the night, one of them wanted a cigarette, so we went outside. She found a friend to smoke with, and I stood with them, getting some air and joining the conversation.
Then a male friend of hers came outside too. She introduced us, and we started talking. He asked about school and where I worked. Nothing that required a romantic interpretation on its own, but enough for us to have a conversation beyond being two people attached to the same smoker.
Back inside, I was dancing with my friends when he came over and danced with me. He held my hand. I kept things fairly restrained, with no grinding, because I didn't want to make him uncomfortable. I was interested; I was also apparently trying to make sure my dancing passed a courtesy inspection.
Then came his departure. My friends thought he had definitely been flirting, and we were all disappointed that the evening had ended without either phone number changing hands. It had felt promising while it was happening. Afterward, there was very little to work with beyond a dance everyone else seemed more confident about than I did.
My friend asked him about it later. According to her, he became so shy that she regretted bringing it up. He said that sometimes people just dance, and that he had enjoyed being surrounded by beautiful women. A generous statement, although not especially helpful for identifying whether I was one particular woman he wanted to see again.
She didn't buy his explanation and wanted to connect us. I liked him, but I was embarrassed and shy myself. Meanwhile, someone I spoke to offered the theory that he had approached me because I wasn't wearing makeup. Now I had a second mystery to consider, involving my face, when the original dance had already given me plenty to do.
Yesterday, my friend messaged him. She told him I liked him and suggested we hang out, possibly on a date. The interest was mine, but the invitation arrived through a representative.
By the next day, he still hadn't replied. Maybe he was shy or busy; maybe he simply wasn't interested. I kept hearing that a man who wanted to see me would make it happen, with shyness apparently unavailable as a male characteristic. I couldn't tell whether that certainty was useful or just very confidently delivered.
I had wanted another chance to see him. With the message unanswered, I started feeling as though I had chased him, and wishing I hadn't told my friend how I felt. The night had ended before I could say anything. Now he knew I liked him, and I was the one waiting for something to say back.
