Dear Boy at the iPhone Kiosk,
You’re cute.
That’s why I keep glancing at you, in addition to the fact that you keep glancing at me. I’m not particularly great at this whole “eye contact” thing yet. It’s an issue related to coming out of my shell. I’m bad about staring and looking around without any kind of intent and I’m used to blushing and looking down when someone thinks I’m looking at them. I’m usually not. I’m usually daydreaming or thinking and the person just happens to be in the path of that daydream.
But not you, Boy at the iPhone Kiosk. You are cute and you are showing interest and I don’t know what to do with my face. Also, I have to eat lunch right now, so you’re getting treated to one of the more awkward activities I can undertake. I usually eat either where no one can see me or with friends, when I do more talking than eating. Rarely am I in public and trying to eat with grace. I definitely did not just fail to keep half a waffle fry in my mouth just then, no siree, not me. So that’s happening, and I would love to smile at you, but I can’t, because of the aforementioned food consumption. There’d be chicken everywhere. It would not help.
Plus, what do humans hope to get out of interactions like this? This always puzzled me. Like, you smile at a cute guy at the bar, or you glance more frequently than casualness would suggest is normal at the fine specimen of humanity across the way, and what do we think is going to happen next? Is that when they saunter over and buy you a drink and start a conversation? Possibly. But it’s noon. There are no drinks to be bought, nor non-business-related conversations to be had. And honestly, it’s not like we’re in the same social circles, Boy at the iPhone Kiosk. More than likely, I am a welcome distraction to the dullness of the midday lack of rush at the mall.
On the one hand, that’s really nice. It’s nice to be found attractive by someone I also find attractive. It is the tiniest of nails in the coffin of my forever-aloneliness. If I can catch your eye, Boy at the iPhone Kiosk, the eye of a male who is of an age with me, then I could in theory do the same in another situation when we’re more likely to have a more positive and concrete outcome. It’s a little bit of an encouragement.
But on the other, and very important hand, I’m not here to be looked at by you. I’m here because my car is in the shop and I couldn’t figure out the bus schedule and honestly, I’ve had some kind of morning, and it’d be nice if the universe could just give me my space. The only place that I truly want to be right now is home, curled up in my bed with my headphones in, listening to made up stories until either the daylight gives up or I do. And here we are, with an elementary school doing their holiday concert in the middle of the mall, the sound of applause oddly tinned and amplified through the speakers that carry it down the thoroughfare, with you glancing at me and me forgetting how to smile and it just seems ill-timed. I’m a pile of confusing signals, I know, and there’s a flash of annoyance at the back of my mind because there’s no good reason for me to interrupt my thoughts and day because you glance my way.
I thank you for your compliment, sir. You’re not creepily focusing only on me and you haven’t irresponsibly abandoned your kiosk and I appreciate both of those things. You’re not demanding anything from me, even though a solid decade of rom-com viewing is telling me otherwise. Anyway, I’m going to go move down toward the tables by the Christmas tree as I wait for my car to get done and if you get a lunch break, you should definitely come over. I’m much better with words than I am with smiles. Much better.
With interest,
Girl in the Grey Blazer
