What If: a story of stupid hesitation

Today, while in the throngs of a I’m -So -Bored -At -Work -I’ll -Check -Facebook -One -More -Time mood, I happened to come across some pictures on another friend’s profile of a boy I used to have a massive crush on. I mean, we’re talking a two year long ordeal here; 720 days of being very conscious of this boy’s existence. We had a few classes together my senior year, which only made things worse—or better, depending on the day. He was everything I currently want in a man: adorable, socially conscious, smart, hilarious, a snowboarder, slight hippie tendencies, sweet…did I mention he had dimples? I’m surprised I didn’t go blind from his cuteness. He made me understand how people can become psycho stalkers who stand outside windows and watch their obsessions sleep.

Hmm. Maybe that was too much information. Anyway. Moving on.

Looking at him in those pictures, and then checking out his profile, made me realize he was even more perfect for me than previously imagined. If our tiny About Me sections and Favorite TV sections were any indications of how compatible we’d be, Cute Hippie and I would be inseparable. And what does he do for a job? Why, he’s a teacher! For special needs kids. God. Perfection in Birkenstocks.

As I sighed in remembrance of how he used to (unknowingly) rock my world, I couldn’t help but kick myself a little (although not too hard. I was at work. It would look strange). Why the hell hadn’t I said anything back then? Why had I just stared at him like an idiot? We had fun conversations, I’m cool, we saw each other 3 to 4 a week during which I could stare into his gorgeous eyes while he said intelligent things, and one time we were even partners in this super easy Science -For -Seniors -Who -Never -Got -Their -Act -Together -And -Need -That -Science -Requierment class. We were partners! And were sitting in a corner! And I think we were sorting berries (honestly. It was the best class I took during my college career). Opportunities were throwing themselves at me like Lindsay Lohan at every dude in Hollywood. I mean, I could have made something happen. Or least…given it a shot.

But I didn’t. And that’s what kills me now, a year later, much farther away from him than just across campus. We’ll probably never see each other again, seeing as how he once told me he hated New York City (“so do I!” I agreed back, leaving out the part about me moving there), and our lives really having no reason to cross. The ‘What If’ quotient is high, and I hate it. I hate every, single, doubting minute.

What If we all went up to that person we adored. What If we just put ourselves out there and actually said something? What If we let our insecurities go, for just a little while, and considered ourselves cool enough to date that amazing person? Maybe we’d get rejected, but at least we wouldn’t be stuck staring at random pictures of them, wallowing in frustration.

I’m not sure what stopped me from ever making that move. Maybe I thought he really wasn’t interested. Maybe I was too shy. Maybe, maybe, maybe. But whatever the case, I’ll never really know what he thought because I never asked. And that sucks. Because Facebook says we like the same books. And he told me once he loves to cook. And he has a girlfriend now.

…And she coulda been me.