It's
5:58 on Monday March 8th. For months my mind
has been posessed
on and
off with this guy, who continuously seems to cross my path. At first it
was
just, "Oh, that guy again," but as I continued to see him I started to
wonder if perhaps it was time to stop being a voyeur and actually talk to
him. Salvation came as a coincidence. I was with a friend, and she waved
to him (from my car, no less) and yelled, "Hi Dave!" That was a valuable
piece of information. He had a first name now and was no longer "the Ratty
guy." However, the confidence I believed I had, drained out of me when he
was near me. I stole glances when I could, but my eyes never lingered for
long, lest I be found staring. Recently I became painfully aware of how
man opportunities I've really had to talk to him. He would be sitting
alone at the next table over, or walking past me on the Main
Green...just...there. It was like when you're walking along and you see
something cool on the ground, and you want to pick it up but for some
irrational reason you keep on walking and you can't make yourself turn
back. Today, I turned back. I saw him at breakfast, sitting alone. I
choked. I was glued to my seat and did nothing. I saw him at lunch,
getting something from the salad bar. I tried to think of something to
say, but it all seemed stupid. Maybe that's what I've been afraid of. A
bad first impression. At dinner I saw him again...and got the feeling that
talking to him couldn't be as bad as suffering my own self-torture if I
said nothing. He walked past me to go to his table, my eyes followed, and
then plunged down to my tray. "What is this?" I thought. "I'm not shy. I'm
not timid. Goddamnit. I'm supposed to be all bold..." I was at the toaster
making an english muffin. He came to get Washington Apple Cake at the
dessert table, which is right next to the toaster. I looked up. We made
brief eye contact. I think I gasped. I accomplished nothing before I
refocused my eyes on the glowing elements of the toaster. Sitting back
down, I sighed. "This isn't me..." I ate my english muffin. He walked past
my table again to get back into the line for food. I wondered if this was
supposed to be some sort of sign. I hoped so, and decided the time to
deliberate was past, and I needed to at least make myself known. I
breathed. I absentmindedly stirred a bowl of Frosted Flakes. Then I saw
him coming back the other way. Oatmeal sweater, black pants. The same
hair, same glasses, same face that always tied me up and immobilized my
will. Time to prove to myself that, yes, I am who I think I am. "Excuse
me, are you Dave?"
He looked at me with great confusion. "Yeah..."
"Hi my name is Sara I knew your name because I'm friends with Kali Wallace
and I think you seem interesting..."
"How do you know Kali? From the paper?"
"No, she lives with me."
"Oh, ok." Then he nodded, smiled, and walked off. Mission
accomplished.