Today is Friday the 13th and I am a big superstitious scaredy-cat. Can I call in sick to work tonight and quote “fear of the outdoors” as an excuse? I mean, it’s a wine bar. A lot can go wrong. I’m talking glassware, liquor cabinets, wine racks…lots of glass/liquid combos involved. And me, clumsy to begin with, so who knows what might happen on a day forever residing in our minds next to Jason? Oh! the humanity.

Leave a comment! This is why:

Abigail asked about M. Well, actually I did sort of want to pose a question about that to you guys. I have this theory that has evolved over the years since high school that, since guys are raised and conditioned to be assertive and go after what/who they want, that if someone is interested in me interested, no matter how shy he is by nature, he will bite the bullet and ask me out. Therefore, I make it a practice not to approach guys in bars or be the one doing the out-asking. My theory is, if he truly liked me, he’d do it himself, because he’s been raised to.

When I was younger (high school), I was all about the asking. I was the only one of my friends who would even dream of approaching someone new in class or asking someone to Homecoming. What did that get me? Embarassment and regret. Inevitably, the guy who I had been so sure was giving me Interested Signals would end up hemming and hawing and having to delicately extricate himself from my presence, because it turned out that I had Misread Things and he didn’t, in fact, like me that way.

So I gradually honed my theory. In my experience, it never turns out well to make the first move or do the asking. It always falls apart - the guy wasn’t that into me, and I would have known that had I just sat back and realized that he was never going to make a move himself. I hate that it has to be this way. Theoretically, I want to be all “Why not? We’re equal, he’ll be flattered, I have nothing to be ashamed of!” In practice - misread signals. Shame, despondancy, disappointment. Sadness, doom, etc.

I tell you all this because a week ago, I had MADE UP MY MIND (after being insulted and browbeatened by both roommates for being from the 18th century) that next time we worked together, I was going to ask him out. I was going to say something like, “Hey, I have [insert horror title here] from Netflix, do you want to come over and watch it?” Because we both like scary movies.

So I was all set. Against my better instincts, I was gonna go for it. Then last Saturday, the work schedule for this week was posted and I had no shifts at all with him. This made me dejected, but also more - I took it as a sign. See, roommates? Even God doesn’t want me to ask this guy out.

And then, the very next day, I was in the grocery store and I saw him! I got so excited! Finally, we could have an actual leisurely conversation, and it would surely develop naturally into one or the other of us suggesting we hang out sometime. This is how the conversation went:

Me: Mike!
M:
(Because he didn’t hear me.)
Me: (Coming closer.) Mike? Hey!
M: Oh, hey! How are you?
Me: I’m good, how are you?
M: (Looking like someone just ran over his dog.) Yeah, I’m fine.
Me: Are you sure you’re alright?
M: Oh yeah, I’m fine. Listen (motions to basket), I’ve got a bunch of people waiting for me at my apartment, so I gotta get going.
Me: Okay, bye.

Ummmm…yeah. And then we both walked off and I was so disappointed I could have hid in the health food aisle and cried. Because really, when will I ever get another opportunity like that again? I only see him at work, when we’re both running around and surrounded by coworkers. I never run into him out, because he’s much more of a smoker than a drinker.

And his best friend J? The one who likes me and is basically my only connection to M? Let’s just say that, in order to describe this whole situation to my stepmom on the phone the other day, I had to teach her the word cockblock. Every time we all go out after work to get a drink together, if J and I are working but M wasn’t, he won’t call M and tell him about it. If J does a group thing involving M, he always conveniently forgets to tell me about it. Tricky, yes? He finagles it so that we never see each other at bars.

But when we’re at work together I get, you know, the vibe. I always catch him looking at me. We sort of look right into each other’s eyes when we speak to each other. I like the way he says my name; he’s got a really sexy voice. Okay, I need to go lie down for a minute.

This was a really long story, sorry. So what would you do? Do you agree with my theory that if he never asks me out himself, it means he’s not interested? I don’t want to have regrets years from now about something I could’ve done, but I also don’t want to ignore my instincts and come off as desperate and blind to reality.