Back in my 20s, I used to party quite a bit, sometimes to ridiculous excess. Drunkenness was rampant, and so were the accompanying shenanigans.
Once, a large group of us took a limo bus downtown for a coworker’s birthday. On the bus was a girl I recognized from work, but had never met. We ended up chatting sporadically throughout the night. But since we were constantly moving around, our exchanges never lasted more than a few minutes at a time.
By the end of the night, she and I were probably the only two people still coherent enough to carry on a conversation. Back at the birthday girl’s apartment, everyone else having either passed out or stumbled home, we found ourselves sitting next to each other on the couch.
There had been a tiny sliver of flirtation between us, but mostly, it had just been idle chatter up to that point. To be honest, I hadn’t noticed any indication that she was the least bit interested in me. Then again, I hadn’t telegraphed any interest in her, either. But that was because I hadn’t been interested in her. Not until that moment, anyway. Keep reading »
