Another mirage

Around three thirty on Friday afternoon I had a phone call from the guy mentioned in my last post. Friday was the last day of his project with my department, and he had some final pieces of paperwork to give me. He wanted to make sure I was still going to be there at five o'clock. I was, as I had some extra work to do, but everyone else was leaving at four so I'd be there by myself.

I hadn't expected to hear from him again. I'd thought that he'd already given me all the documents I needed. Was this just an excuse to see me at a time when the office wasn't crowded with people?

After the blushing episode I was filled with trepidation. I concentrated on my work and did a lot of deep breathing. Every time I heard someone walking up the hall outside my office my heart started beating faster.

And finally, just before five, he was there. Looking good in a snug blue sweater. He gave me his paperwork and we chatted about the project. I managed to keep my side of the conversation rolling along. I leaned against my desk. He hooked his hand over the top of the doorframe and leaned against it in a relaxed way. I kept the papers and a pen in my hands, because I found that if I put them down my hands started to shake. I smiled, I chuckled, I made jokes, and most importantly, I didn't blush. I gave every impression of being a normal person, which under the circumstances was something of an achievement.

And then the conversation finished, we wished each other well, and he left. I listlessly banged away at some work for ten more minutes, then I went home.

I'd done my best. I'd given him an opportunity, and he'd decided not to take it. If you're wondering, "Why the hell didn't you just ask him out?", well, there are two answers. One, it's not my style to be so forward. And two, technically I'm one of his supervisors (a kind of adjunct to his boss), and I'm pretty sure that asking an underling out on a date is frowned upon, perhaps even an outright offense. If he initiates, on the other hand, it's probably okay. Which is a moot point, since he didn't.

I'm satisfied that I did the best I could. As I drove home that evening I didn't have any of those "Damn, that's what I should have said!" moments. But it seems my subconscious wasn't as satisfied. All through the weekend it seemed that everywhere I looked there was a happy gay couple - in the checkout line at the deli, having breakfast at the coffee shop, browsing the shelves at Blockbuster. At several moments across Saturday and Sunday I realised that I was 90% of the way to bursting into tears. Who are these people? For what secret source did they find these significant others? Why haven't I been told about it?

I suppose my point is that it's easy to tolerate loneliness when you don't have your nose rubbed in the possibility of making a connection. But when everyone around you seems to have achieved what you want without all that much effort, it just hurts.