I’m in college, sharing an apartment with four roommates, and our balcony has become the site of a very quiet social event. We go outside. Women on another balcony look toward ours. We notice. Nobody says anything. Attendance is good; progress is limited.
There’s one woman I like. A friend likes her too, and he announced it first, which has somehow become a relevant fact despite neither of us having spoken to her. We have established an order of disclosure. Actual introductions remain beyond the department’s capabilities.
We notice them looking our way from their balcony, and sometimes when they’re sitting outside or walking. I keep wondering whether she’s interested in me, my friend, or someone else entirely. I feel as though there might be interest on both sides, but that’s a generous amount of interpretation to put on a glance.
I don’t often see her with many friends. I’m similar in that respect, and it makes me feel like we might have something in common. Of course, knowing someone’s usual surroundings is a long way from knowing them.
The part I find harder to joke about is my confidence. I worry she’ll reject me because I have dark skin. I work out, and I catch myself wondering whether that helps, as though attraction were a form where one answer could compensate for another.
I wasn’t always this hesitant around women. Before lockdown, I remember girls cheering for me when I skated or raced. My friends now would probably request supporting footage. Somewhere along the way, being comfortable around women stopped feeling natural, and I haven’t found my way back.
Meanwhile, I think about her constantly. I spent hours going through her college’s Instagram page trying to find her. Hours. I can admit that’s excessive, especially for someone whose spoken contribution to the acquaintance is still zero.
So I keep returning to the smallest possible problem: if I finally get the nerve to talk to her, what do I say? I’ve put considerably more work into finding her online than into figuring out what comes after hello.
