Our group—three women and two men—finally got together at my place after almost two years. Then one of the women left, and the remaining four of us continued hanging out. This is where I began conducting an entirely unlicensed investigation into my friend S’s eye contact.
With our other male friend, looking at each other was a normal part of conversation. With S, it became a process: look, get caught, look away. Repeat. He seemed to have as much trouble holding my gaze as I had holding his, which was encouraging evidence from a deeply unreliable witness: me.
There was also a lot of casual touching, and he kept trying to sit next to me. When he talked to the group, he seemed to be looking mainly at me. I was technically attending a gathering of friends. In practice, I was tracking seating arrangements with the concentration usually reserved for air traffic.
I already liked him. He’s caring, he smells wonderful, and having him nearby did very little to improve my judgment. I kept catching him looking at me and wondering whether something had shifted between us—or whether attraction had simply made me a very enthusiastic interpreter.
There is, unfortunately, a fairly large complication. He’s still in love with his ex. As far as I can tell, he’s very much stuck on her. I can enjoy a promising glance, but I don’t want to get attached to someone who’s emotionally occupied elsewhere.
Now I want another group hangout. The other two women aren’t especially interested in spending time with the guys, which complicates my extremely subtle plan of putting everyone in the same room again. S and I aren’t close enough for arranging something alone to feel casual.
I might confess, but I’d rather make a small move first—something that gives him room to show interest without turning the entire friendship into an announcement. I’m still trying to work out what that move would be. Meanwhile, my couch still smells like him, which is not helping me maintain a balanced position.
