I met her at a local food place and asked for her number. She gave it to me. At the time, that felt like the difficult part: walking up to someone I liked and finding out whether she wanted to hear from me.
I’m 18 and she’s 19. We talked for a few days, and then she invited me over. We ate, watched a movie, joked around, and cuddled. I stayed the night. There wasn’t one big moment I’ve been replaying so much as a collection of ordinary things that seemed to go well.
She was laughing and talking a lot. I enjoyed being there, and I thought she did too. I didn’t feel as though I was dragging a conversation along or waiting for the evening to end. From my side, it felt like we were getting comfortable with each other.
I didn’t try to take things further physically. I didn’t want to make her uncomfortable, and honestly, I don’t have much confidence about how to initiate something like that. She didn’t make a move either. I noticed, but I didn’t know whether there was anything to read into it.
Now it’s been three days. The first day, she texted me a decent amount. The second day, the messages slowed down. Today, I haven’t heard from her at all. That gradual change has made me look back at the night differently, even though the night itself hasn’t changed.
I’ve started wondering whether I’m awkward with women in ways I don’t recognize while they’re happening. Maybe I missed something. Maybe the evening felt different to her. I don’t know, and I don’t have anything beyond fewer messages to explain it.
I’m not angry with her. I liked spending time together, and I’d like to understand what happened. If I did something wrong, I want to know what it was. Right now, I’m looking back at a night when we laughed and cuddled, then looking at a phone that hasn’t lit up today.
