I smile at him, and he looks a bit puzzled (not a great beginning). I haven’t really thought about what I am going to tell him. Normally, in those situations I just say whatever I have in my mind, which is generally A LOT, also because I have a problem with being transparent and open, and I end up explaining sometimes a long chain of thoughts.
In this case, once his ear is sufficiently close to my mouth, I start pouring out: “Hi, sorry to approach you like this, I’ve been wanting to talk with you since I saw you, but then your friend has kind of got a bit too interested in me, and it didn’t seem nice to leave him there and rather come and talk with you, plus I don’t have much voice tonite to talk over this loud music”.
Now: a smile would have been nice. A nodding would have been helpful. Instead he just turns his face to me and stares at me, a bit inquisitive. Ok, let’s finish what I have to say.
“Well, basically I’m saying that I’ve noticed you and that I’d like to talk with you, it’s just that tonight my sore throat doesn’t allow me that… Well, I don’t know if you are interested, if you would like my number…”
Thank God, he nods ever so slightly. A little movement that other people might not have noticed, but that to me sounds like:“Yes, please!”. I take out my magic message (that could be the beginning of the most amazing love story ever lived) and I hand it to him. He reads it, and he says: “Roberta. Pleasure, I’m Laurie”. And, of course, not only he has a body to scream for, and a face that I doubt I would get tired to look at, but he also has a husky warm voice. Classic.
After this awkward, old school exchange, we both go back to the dance floor, me to my girlfriends, and him to his mates, there on a stag do. I go on dancing with a smile in between the “I’m so cool, I gave him my number!” and the “Jee, have I really stopped him to give him my completely unrequested number?”. We are all dancing in the same circle, anyway, but he never ever looks in my direction.
Oh, well. I’ve done my part and I have to be happy with myself. I have no control on his moves.
My girlfriends and I eventually decide to leave the venue, and just after I collect and wear my jacket and am going up the staircase, he’s there queing to get his stuff. When I look at him and say “Goodnight, take care”, he says “I’ll catch you”, to which I respond “It would be nice”. I’m a bit surprised, to be honest: no cagamento whatsover (Italian for….for…. well, he doesn’t pay any attention in the slightest to me) for the whole night, and then he leaves me with this promise to see each other again. Maybe he just wanted to enjoy a night out with his friends, and I respect that.
I get on the bus and take out my mobile from the bag. We are talking a maximum of 7-8 minutes from leaving the venue, and there’s already a text and a whatsapp message from him: “Hey you!!! Where are you?”
Here I think it’s nice just for stylistic reasons to make a brief pause and make the expectations go up… because it’s indeed a promising beginning.
I had misunderstood his “I’ll catch you” with a “I’ll catch up with you later on during the week”. Anyway, I tell him that I’m surprised, I didn’t expect him to contact me so soon, asked if he had had a good night, and while I’m making sure to say the right things, he inquires again where I am. Either he works for London transports and wants to check that the bus number 12 is doing its proper route, or he is after something.
I try to be playful and cheeky, though I am a bit disappointed that Mr Perfect is simply looking for a one night stand. It’s anyway good, at least I really like the guy, as opposed to other times when you end up in that situation more out of the mood, then out of the person you have in front. But that’s exactly the other point here: he is so drunk and horny, that probably I’m his choice just because i’m slightly softer and warmer than a fire hydrant in the street (and less red).
So, I’m a bit disappointed, but then I tell myself that he is drunk, so he might even wake up to sobriety the next day and apologize with a nice text.
And he might have done that… in the parallel universe where unicorns fly freely and icecream makes you lose weight. In this world, he acts differently. A big, shameful move, unmasked by a little, tiny, inoffensive tick sign:
And that’s it. Not only he never answered to this text, but he also never received it. Only one tick means in its desolate loneliness only one thing: he has blocked my number!
…So sad to see all that beauty wasted on such a jerk.
Well, at least I know that no, don’t worry, Roby, he definitely was not your Man.
Speaking of this, if any of you knows or sees a guy who has a glass eye AND a wooden leg, please contact me asap.