So, I mentioned in my last post that I had met a rather Adorkable man at my work. He remains as adorkable as ever, and the crush is showing no signs of fading. But the entire relationship (or lack thereof) has been fraught with what can only be described as crushing awkwardness. For some reason, every time I see this guy I am transformed into an awkward fifteen year old girl who does not have the social skills to navigate the simplest of interactions. And he's not much better! So chances of us ever getting it together appear slim to none. I joked to one of my Irish girls the other night that she should plan a trip to Oz for fifteen years time when Mr. Adorkable and I finally get married. It really seems like it is going to take forever to ascertain whether he even likes me!
Let me give you some examples of our brief meetings:
- Christmas Party Shame- having met him previously, and both of us being relatively new to our organisation, I spent a lot of time chatting to him. Shameful experience number 1- I had a drunken argument with one of his work colleagues over politics. I became shrill. Shrill is not hot. In any way. Shameful experience number 2- I walked in midway through a conversation between Mr. Adorkable and my good friend. He said something along the lines of 'next time I get a girlfriend, they'll have to not like (insert very famous sci-fi TV show here). All of my ex girlfriend's have loved it, and I think it has something to do with the failure of our relationships.' Appropriate response- 'Hahaha, funny! Good joke Mr. Adorkable.' My overexcited response- 'I don't like (said TV show)!' Sigh. May as well have just shouted 'I LOVE you!' Shame, shame, shame.
- Random Street Meeting Shame- walking back to my office after a lunch break I saw Mr. Adorkable standing on the opposite street corner. I needed to cross to this corner as well. After a minor heart attack I decided that the best tactic was simply to pretend that I had not seen him, given my rather recent Christmas Party Shame. I had my headphones in so I simply crossed to near where he was standing and had my head turned towards the oncoming traffic. I heard someone shouting my name, and looked around to see him yelling over the heads of other pedestrians. I smiled and acted surprised. We had a quick conversation on the walk back to the office. Nothing weird, nothing awkward, just a friendly chat. But, of course, my inner keeno came to the fore as soon as I was back at my desk, and I emailed him following up on something we had discussed. We emailed back and forth over the next few weeks but this eventually fizzled out on his end, leading, of course, to awkwardness.
- Avoidance of Shame- I next saw him again at a Training Session. We were sitting on opposite sides of the room. It would have taken an effort on my part to go to talk to him. I decided that I should repress my keeno on this occasion and left without acknowledging his presence. The next morning I woke up to a 'friend request' from Mr. Adorkable. My unintentional freeze out appears to be working.
- Close Quarters Shame- I attended another training session last week. Mr. Adorkable arrived and he sat next to me, after a rather awkward exchange regarding whether he actually wanted me to move my bag so that he could sit down. It got even worse from this point. We couldn't really talk during the lecture, so we shared a few awkward laughs at things that really weren't funny. To make matters even worse, he is one of the most fidgety people I have EVER encountered. So for the entire hour he was constantly moving, crossing and uncrossing his legs, doing random things with his hands. I felt positively serene and elegant next to him (two things I very rarely feel). When the lecture finally finished he somehow managed to trap me in the row of seats we were sitting in by standing directly in the exit. He told me how good it was to see me rather than just talking over the phone regarding work related things. I agreed. But I wanted to get out of the aisle, mainly so that others behind me could also get out. The only way I saw to do this was to end the conversation. Awkwardly. I laughed at his statement that he was always calling me, confused. Then I motioned that I wanted to get out of the aisle, said goodbye, and ran. I felt awful afterwards and spent hours (as all crazy keenos do) thinking about how I could make it seem like I wasn't trying to get out of talking to him. I finally settled on a good old Social Media Message. I wrote briefly to him, apologising for rushing out, and stating that I hoped we could chat the next time we saw each other. It felt quite cathartic.
- Anticipated Shame- a few days passed after my cathartic Social Media message and I didn't get a Response. I wasn't overly concerned, it wasn't the kind of message that needed a response. But then I got a response. And I nearly choked. He acknowledged that I had seemed to be in a bit of a hurry to get out, and then, drumroll please, he invited me to drinks for his birthday! Next week! I waited twenty four hours to write back (resisting all of my keeno instincts), and said that I would love to come to drinks and to let me know when they would be happening. I'm waiting to hear back. I anticipate awkwardness. I'm going to take some of my work girls along for support, and to hopefully help me avoid utter humiliation. I imagine a drunken me laughing loudly at everything he says, or drunkenly confessing to a crush, or talking about The Writer, or other random guys I have crushes on, or falling over, or throwing up, you get the picture. I can also imagine us having a crushingly awkward conversation in which we both make several inappropriate jokes. And then he stands on my toe. And I spill a drink on him. And head butt him as I'm trying to help him clean it up. It seems like we're just those type of people.
Here I go again, getting twenty steps ahead of myself. But I am hoping for the best, that the drinks go well, that we don't make complete fools of ourselves, and that I get a better indication of whether he like likes me, or whether he thinks we should be friends.
In the words of Josh Pyke, gloriously unaware of how this might turn out,
B. J. Barnes