The first time I saw you we were at a party and I gushed over your cool tattoos. I tried all sorts of hard to get your attention, but you went on your way.
I swear I didn’t see you again until 6 months later, I was kind of convinced you were some sort of mythical creature I had made up in my head. You had just disappeared. But there you were, in front of me once again, cool tattoos and all. And I didn’t know what to do.
It made no sense to gush again. But I was just so shy – I’ve always been a weird kind of shy – and couldn’t work up any nerve to talk to you.
So I resorted to elementary school behavior and told my friend, who was also your friend, that I thought you were cute. He relayed the message and you found your way to me. I was still too shy. We awkwardly stood in a corner trying to chat. I was wearing a Spiderman t-shirt and I’m pretty sure we tried talking about it for 15 minutes straight.
We met at a party and then again at another party. I convinced myself you were this perfect, tattooed god. But when we were talking in that corner, awkward and shy on my part, is when I should’ve realized we had absolutely nothing in common and that’s absolutely bad news in the long run.