There’s a woman in my office building I’d like to talk to. She works for a different company, so we don’t have meetings together or any professional reason to discuss a spreadsheet. Our entire connection currently consists of occasionally occupying the same hallway after lunch.
We’ve noticed each other several times. That’s all I can confidently report. I have no evidence of a sweeping romance developing between the elevators and somebody else’s office, although I am apparently treating a simple introduction as if it requires one.
There have been three or four perfectly reasonable opportunities to say hello. Nothing elaborate. Just “Hi,” possibly followed by “How are you?” if I felt like attempting advanced material.
Each time, I’ve wanted to do it. Each time, I’ve let the opportunity pass. We continue down the corridor, and I’m left with the irritating knowledge that I’ve once again been defeated by a word with two letters.
What bothers me is that this isn’t really about her. If it were, I could file it under one unusually intimidating crush and move on. But whenever I find a woman attractive, the simplest conversation starts to feel difficult. Wanting to make contact seems to interfere directly with my ability to make contact. An efficient arrangement.
I don’t know why I get so nervous. I’m not trying to deliver a dazzling opening line or secure a date before either of us gets back to work. I genuinely just want to introduce myself. Somehow, even that feels like a much bigger step when I’m standing there than it does afterward.
That gap is the frustrating part: the distance between knowing how ordinary a hello is and actually saying it.
If you’ve been this person, how did you get past it? What helped you start a conversation while you were still nervous? Because waiting until I feel effortlessly confident is beginning to look like a long-term hallway arrangement.
