I met him through sports sessions, which seemed like a reasonable place to develop a small crush. We’d known each other for a while, but only recently had I started taking a little more interest in the teasing and playful banter.
He teases me a lot. Naturally, I had begun treating this as evidence. Its admissibility remained untested.
Then he traveled, posted a story, and I replied with a simple question: “Souvenirs?”
He reassured me that I wouldn’t be left out. Promising. Then came the delivery arrangements: I needed to come to sports more often, otherwise it would be hard for him to give me mine.
The sessions usually happen on Saturdays, and my remaining Saturdays were unavailable. I told him I wasn’t sure when we’d next see each other.
“Why’s the sudden depressed vibe bruh,” he replied, followed by reassurance that I’d make time.
“Bruh” wasn’t quite the development I’d hoped for, but I pressed on. After a joke about women and mood swings, I suggested that perhaps we needed another solution. By which I meant: we are two adults who could potentially meet somewhere without sports equipment.
I left that last part implied. I was providing an opening, not issuing a calendar invitation.
His answer was that if I really couldn’t make sports, I could join the lunch session instead. This came with a generous amount of laughter.
So he had considered the obstacle, assessed the available options, and successfully relocated me to another group activity.
Maybe he missed the hint. Maybe he understood it perfectly and preferred lunch with everyone. I can’t tell from the exchange alone.
What I can say is that my souvenir has a more clearly defined future than my crush.
