Monday, April 25, 2011

Additional Evidence

Posted by Lara at 10:47 PM
Okay, so hopefully by now you've had time to study Exhibit A, and you're ready for some new evidence. So, on to...

Exhibit B: The Fly-Bys and Near Miss

Let's re-establish a timeline for a moment. I emailed Dr.B. a response to his story on Friday morning, and he and I had our failed conversation the following Wednesday morning. That Wednesday happened to fall in the middle of his week of lunchtime supervision duty. See, at our school, the staff has a rotating lunchtime supervision schedule, where each staff member is in charge of supervising one section of the campus for one week of the semester. Lucky for me, his week of supervision duty just happened to put him in my section of campus, a section of campus he would never otherwise have reason to visit. I figured this would be great - surely at some point in the week I could find a way to work this in my favor.

Monday: I was out and about during lunch, and only saw him once. We *may* have made eye contact, but it was too far to tell if he was looking in the general direction where I was standing or actually looking at me. So, that didn't work out quite like I'd hoped.

Tuesday: I made sure to sit at my desk during lunch. My desk directly faces the door (which I made sure to leave open), so I figured he would be sure to see me when he walked past, and maybe if I made an effort to look particularly friendly, he would consider stopping in to say hello? After all, at this point, he had yet to respond to my email at all, so I was hoping that if an easy opportunity presented itself, he would consider engaging in a conversation face-to-face.

So, there I am, sitting at my desk, and while I'm there, he walks past. And looks in. We make eye contact. I give him a big smile - a warm, welcoming smile - and a little wave. He smiles back. (Victory!) But continues right on walking.

Damn.

He walks past a second time but I don't manage to make quite the same eye-connection as the first time. So goodbye to Tuesday.

Wednesday: I had two different meetings to attend at lunch, so I knew I wouldn't see him, but fortunately, we had our aforementioned "conversation fail" right after lunch anyway.

Thursday: I was in another teacher's classroom near my own, when I saw him (through the window) passing by. I rushed out, not with any plan to actually say anything - because what was I going to say? - but with the sheer hope that if I just made myself visible something might possibly happen. (At the very least, if I made myself visible he wouldn't be able to easily just forget my existence, and that is always step 1 towards a successful relationship, the not letting him forget you exist.) I walked past him, making sure he saw me go into my classroom, then sat at my desk and left the door open. He managed to spend the entire remainder of lunch supervising the area without ever crossing the path of my room. Given the geography of the area, he either did a piss-poor job of supervision, or he worked really hard to avoid my room.

Friday: I had another meeting that I knew would take all of lunch. I was majorly bummed that I had never managed to make the supervision schedule work out for me, and now my last chance was slipping through my fingers. I whined about it for a while, but there wasn't much I could do about it, so I forgot about it and went to my meeting.

When I returned from my meeting right before the last class began, Tpiglette (she and I share a classroom) was waiting with... some news.

"You're going to be mad," she said. "Guess who stopped by for a chat?"

"DAMN IT!"

Yeah, so apparently, all those times he knew I was in my classroom, at my desk, and available for a talk, he just passed on by. But when the door was open and he saw that I was nowhere in the classroom, THEN he feels free to come on in and talk to Tpiglette.

Now, there are a couple ways we could go with this information, right?

Option #1: He hates me, finds me absolutely disgusting, and avoids me whenever possible. Knowing I was in my classroom was practically unbearable, so when he saw that I was gone, he took the opportunity to visit with someone less abhorrent.

Option #2: He actually really likes me, but is too scared to talk to me. Knowing I was in the classroom, he was way too nervous, so he couldn't come in. But when I was gone, he came in to talk to Tpiglette, for whom he feels only comfortable friendship, hoping that he would just happen to be there when I returned.

Option #3: I'm reading way too much into this. He didn't come in on those other days because he didn't feel like chatting with anyone, and he came in on Friday because he felt social that day.

What do you think?

4 comments:

fjd said...

I think you should ask him out.

Jill B on 10:04 AM said...

I'm with fjd.So many possibilities - and you'll drive yourself crazy thinking about them. So just ask him out. Not in a "wanna hang out" or group-thing kind of way, but in a one-on-one, let's spend some time together kind of way. It'll make your interest clear, and if he's interested, he'll say yes. Or be stunned that a beautiful, awesome woman asked him out. But you'll have done your part. :)

BetteJo on 6:28 PM said...

I am SO not good at this. In my lifetime I have generally chased a guy until he thought it was his idea to ask me out. The one time I did kind of ask a guy out - I was embarrassed and terrified and damn near tongue-tied. Gah. So while it might be a wonderful idea - I can't help but project my feelings and .. did I mention I am bad at this? Me? I guess I would probably let it go a little bit longer but then ask him out.

The Dalai Mama on 8:47 AM said...

Wish I had some stellar advice, but I've been married for 11 years and so am very far removed from the whole dating world. Does he drink coffee/tea? Arrive early and bring him a coffee/tea--chat a little. That is one way to get things started.

It might have been easier for him to come in w/out you there, hoping that you would come in and make it easier to chat with you....

 

Life: The Ongoing Education Copyright © 2012 Design by Antonia Sundrani Vinte e poucos