Tether. (Part Three)
Don’t think about it too much. I took a step back and glanced over to the other side of the partition of the bar, which divided the bar area from the ice cream/restaurant area. I was standing on one side, he was sitting on the other. Just go up to him and say hi. Be an adult.
I had spotted him as soon as I had arrived at Treelands that morning, with my little nanny charge in tow. He was working, though, so there was no chance to have a casual, “Oh hey, you’re here!” faux-surprised conversation. Which was totally okay, I reminded myself. My worst fear, for myself, was that I hadn’t wanted to get excited about seeing him again and let myself think about what could happen and what I wanted to happen, which would then put me back into that phase where it’s really important that those things happened, and exactly the way I wanted them to. That old middle school dramatics phase where, if I don’t get asked to slow dance by Chris Carlson to “More Than Words” at this dance tonight, my life is going to feel empty and meaningless for the rest of my life. So I tried really hard not to romanticize it, telling myself that I had to let go of my dumb fantasies of how I wanted the run-in to happen - the sun is shining. I’m looking amazing: Confident and blowy and nonchalant about it all at once. He sees me, but I don’t see him. Slowly, he makes his way towards me. When his hot face draws near, I look up, surprised, and then slowly, I smile at him. “Boy, are you a sight for sore eyes,” he would say, and then pull me tightly to him. “I missed you. I don’t care what happened before. I’m so glad you came to the Challenge. Let’s try this again.” And then we kiss and bluebirds fly out of the trees while a symphony orchestra starts playing in the distance somewhere - and just concentrate on having it happen, of biting the bullet, getting it out of the way, even if I had to orchestrate the entire thing.
So the kid (that I was nannying for) and I spent the morning on the playground, waiting for Meg to arrive.Then the kid decided she wanted to watch the casting contest, which he was judging. Picking a spot just a few feet away from him, she had implored me to sit on the grass with her so we could watch the kids cast their lure towards the hula hoop in the water. He and I both had sunglasses on, so when he looked our way, I couldn’t quite tell if he was looking at me or just in our general direction, and it didn’t really matter, anyway. It wasn’t like he’s going to interrupt his judging to come over and say hi, I told myself.
Later, after Meg had arrived and we finished our coverage of the event, we decided to go inside to get out the sun. My heart jumped into my chest as I walked into the bar area to find him sitting on the other side of the partition that divided that bar from the restaurant. I tried to play it cool, act like I hadn’t seen him. Which always works out so well, right? Guys love it when they know you’ve seen them but you act like you haven’t.
You’ll hate yourself if you let the opportunity slip away and you didn’t do anything. I took a deep breath in and grabbed my drink from off the bar. “I’ll be right back,” I told Meg.
Here was the inner dialogue during the span of maybe a 20 second conversation:Whoa. I totally did forget just how hot he is, especially up close. Hmm. He doesn’t really seem that happy to see me. Better make this quick. He can’t seem to look at me head on. What’s up with the side-eye? Is he nervous? Or is he just feeling awkward because he’s wishing he wasn’t talking to me?Why is he asking what I’m drinking? This is awkward. I should go now. Say goodbye, put him out of his misery. “Will I be around later?” What does that mean? He could barely look at me and now he wants to know if I’ll be around later? Is that good?
“I mean, I rarely ever ask someone if they’re going to be around later if I *don’t* want to see them,” I pointed out to my friend Larkin over Twitter DM later that afternoon. Larkin is of those one guy friends who will always give it to me straight - the cold hard truth, whether I want it or not, every time. So naturally, he was the first person I went to with my, “What does a guy mean when he asks, “Will you be around later?”…?” Does that mean that he’s hoping to talk to me later, or that he just wants to know when and where to avoid me?“I would go with your gut,” he replied. Yeah, but my gut sucks, I wanted to whine.
Later that night, around 7, Lacy and I showed up at Treelands, ready for our Girls Night. This had also been planned for weeks: A babysitter had been arranged for the kid, and Meg was going to meet us out there later. So we sat outside with our drinks until it grew cold, then settled in at the bar. We hadn’t been in our bar stools for more than ten minutes before he came in. And sat down next to me at the bar. I could feel my hopes actually lift in my chest. We would get to talk now. We would get to catch up, I could figure out what might still be here, and what might not be.
<-- Part Two
I had spotted him as soon as I had arrived at Treelands that morning, with my little nanny charge in tow. He was working, though, so there was no chance to have a casual, “Oh hey, you’re here!” faux-surprised conversation. Which was totally okay, I reminded myself. My worst fear, for myself, was that I hadn’t wanted to get excited about seeing him again and let myself think about what could happen and what I wanted to happen, which would then put me back into that phase where it’s really important that those things happened, and exactly the way I wanted them to. That old middle school dramatics phase where, if I don’t get asked to slow dance by Chris Carlson to “More Than Words” at this dance tonight, my life is going to feel empty and meaningless for the rest of my life. So I tried really hard not to romanticize it, telling myself that I had to let go of my dumb fantasies of how I wanted the run-in to happen - the sun is shining. I’m looking amazing: Confident and blowy and nonchalant about it all at once. He sees me, but I don’t see him. Slowly, he makes his way towards me. When his hot face draws near, I look up, surprised, and then slowly, I smile at him. “Boy, are you a sight for sore eyes,” he would say, and then pull me tightly to him. “I missed you. I don’t care what happened before. I’m so glad you came to the Challenge. Let’s try this again.” And then we kiss and bluebirds fly out of the trees while a symphony orchestra starts playing in the distance somewhere - and just concentrate on having it happen, of biting the bullet, getting it out of the way, even if I had to orchestrate the entire thing.
So the kid (that I was nannying for) and I spent the morning on the playground, waiting for Meg to arrive.Then the kid decided she wanted to watch the casting contest, which he was judging. Picking a spot just a few feet away from him, she had implored me to sit on the grass with her so we could watch the kids cast their lure towards the hula hoop in the water. He and I both had sunglasses on, so when he looked our way, I couldn’t quite tell if he was looking at me or just in our general direction, and it didn’t really matter, anyway. It wasn’t like he’s going to interrupt his judging to come over and say hi, I told myself.
Later, after Meg had arrived and we finished our coverage of the event, we decided to go inside to get out the sun. My heart jumped into my chest as I walked into the bar area to find him sitting on the other side of the partition that divided that bar from the restaurant. I tried to play it cool, act like I hadn’t seen him. Which always works out so well, right? Guys love it when they know you’ve seen them but you act like you haven’t.
You’ll hate yourself if you let the opportunity slip away and you didn’t do anything. I took a deep breath in and grabbed my drink from off the bar. “I’ll be right back,” I told Meg.
Here was the inner dialogue during the span of maybe a 20 second conversation:Whoa. I totally did forget just how hot he is, especially up close. Hmm. He doesn’t really seem that happy to see me. Better make this quick. He can’t seem to look at me head on. What’s up with the side-eye? Is he nervous? Or is he just feeling awkward because he’s wishing he wasn’t talking to me?Why is he asking what I’m drinking? This is awkward. I should go now. Say goodbye, put him out of his misery. “Will I be around later?” What does that mean? He could barely look at me and now he wants to know if I’ll be around later? Is that good?
“I mean, I rarely ever ask someone if they’re going to be around later if I *don’t* want to see them,” I pointed out to my friend Larkin over Twitter DM later that afternoon. Larkin is of those one guy friends who will always give it to me straight - the cold hard truth, whether I want it or not, every time. So naturally, he was the first person I went to with my, “What does a guy mean when he asks, “Will you be around later?”…?” Does that mean that he’s hoping to talk to me later, or that he just wants to know when and where to avoid me?“I would go with your gut,” he replied. Yeah, but my gut sucks, I wanted to whine.
Later that night, around 7, Lacy and I showed up at Treelands, ready for our Girls Night. This had also been planned for weeks: A babysitter had been arranged for the kid, and Meg was going to meet us out there later. So we sat outside with our drinks until it grew cold, then settled in at the bar. We hadn’t been in our bar stools for more than ten minutes before he came in. And sat down next to me at the bar. I could feel my hopes actually lift in my chest. We would get to talk now. We would get to catch up, I could figure out what might still be here, and what might not be.
<-- Part Two
No comments have been added yet.
