The Lady and the subtle art of conversation and glancing.

2/24/2013 The Lady 1 Comments

I have one goal for tonight at ward prayer and one goal only: talk to The Boy Next Door. (Author's note: I have made this goal every week for the past . . . too many weeks to count).

But rest assured that it seems that The Boy Next Door has just as hard a time talking to me as I do talking to him. We have taken to talking at each other in group settings.

A story:

It was Friday night and The Boy Next Door's roommates were having a dance party. Ah, dancing. The perfect opportunity to entrance a man. I donned my best fanny-flattering skinny jeans, put my exceptional hair volume to good use, and arm in arm with my roommates strutted the few yards to The Boy Next Door's. Upon entering their apartment, I was accosted by the overwhelming aroma of human bodies mingling too closely together which is the signature smell of dance parties. As my roommates and I fought our way towards the middle of the room, I caught sight of The Boy Next Door. His eyes caught mine and we smiled hesitantly at each other. All too soon I was caught up in a monstrous hug just beyond the dance floor by my all-too-lovable home teacher. The Boy Next Door was lost to me, it was as though he had vanished.

As my roommates and I stood chatting with my home teacher, The Boy Next Door reappeared, hovering near our group; his eyes continually flickering towards me. The Boy Next Door waited several minutes until my home teacher left us, to step up to our group only to say, "Hey, the dancing is that way." He gestured towards the pulsing mass of young single adults feet from us, and with one final glance in my direction, quickly left . . .

End story.

Perhaps, I am only imagining that he has been giving me all these looks, but the looks are the only thing I have to go on at the moment, so press forward I must. And now I am off to ward prayer to seal my fate.

Con Amor,

The Lady