Pet

She looked over in class to make eye contact and smile. Maybe it’s a signal. Wait for her outside after class. Chat about the other night when you met up with people from work and she was there and you were talking then you went off with someone else to someone else’s house because they wanted to leave and smoke a joint and you don’t really do that much but it sounded like fun and movement is a good thing, continuous, so you went along. She will say she met up with a friend and they went someplace else and then someplace else and the friend was really drunk. The plan was just to use that as an opener, an excuse for waiting, and then get her phone number. She came on to you strong a year ago when you weren’t available so why wouldn’t she be interested now?

She is already on her cell phone coming out of class and that makes it awkward so you’re already at a disadvantage, but play it cool. Then she says she needs to check herself in the mirror. Waiting, then she comes back, finally gets off the cell phone and, somewhat more awkwardly than you had planned, you bring up the other night and start a conversation. Conversation is great, but she’s not really your type and what you have doesn’t qualify as conversation. You should flee. Instead tag along like a docile pet, but assure yourself you aren’t. To the grocery store. Follow her around the store. God, it’s not worth it. If she were your type (physically or mentally) it would be, but this isn’t supposed to be anything. Not dating, not future long-term relationship or a whisper of marriage. A fun distraction. But a delicate sense of timing and propriety holds you back from being an aggressive dick like so many others (perhaps her type) and you hang on to your plan. Get her number and give yours. Not even sure you want it anymore. Pretty sure you really don’t.

Agony, ridiculous self-abasement. Goddamn.