I danced beside you tonight. Not with you. In the same dancing circle of ridiculous movement set to a monotonous beat, so with you. But not with you. I was beside you on the outside rim of the circle.
I wanted to dance with you. Ask you for your number. Suggest coffee, or tea, or a walk, or beer. Or wine with cheese and a bread platter. Whatever interested you.
Because. You were physically attractive. And dramatic women who I don't really like decided you were rude for some reason in a sideways conversation about you. And I like people who are just barely arrogant enough, just barely sensible enough, to know that they don't need to be friendly with everybody they meet when they are mostly comfortable with the people they know. That entices me.
And the way that we looked into each other's eyes only after avoiding them, and continue to avoid them afterwards, and took glances again and again. Hoping not to time them at the same moment - the electric pulse of the air and the flash movement of poor lighting putting us both at risk.
So. William. Hopefully I didn't miss my chance. And I can one day have the opportunity to dance with you rather than in a circle that we both happen to be in. Hopefully before then you learn my name.
It's Neal.
And - if you have to search my wallet for it while I am using your toilet the following morning - I won't mind. Even if you tell me.
It's Neal.
