He's Quiet

As I sat at the table looking at sinister quiet man gracefully sashaying around the dance floor, I was observing him observing me on occasion. Never did he guide Belina so his back was to me. I was quite relieved for the break in the air so I could regroup.

I try at least to be a firm believer in the man being the aggressor, "persue-r" if you will. When I think that, I remember how fallible many men are in that department, at least in my experience. It is those that I conveniently forget about and I later am then left to wonder about a relationship that could have been. It is this see-saw that I have found myself on most of my single life: I am apparently "un-approachable"- well at least by men who are not exuding massive amounts of self confidence. Those confident men, I have found, have an over abundance of undesirable egos.

So, I was following sinister quiet man with my eyes, who I think I should at this point in the story, call Quiet Man, for that is what he regularly is, and I cannot think of an appropriate pseudonym for his real name.

He only took Belina for one dance and they returned to the table, she opposite me and he next to me. Fred was blathering on as I have found out in the manner he is addicted. I never thought of attending this event to meet someone and in a weird sort of way, I had.

Can I remember the small talk Quiet Man made with me? No. Nor can I remember whatever dopey thing I might have said to him. I was sitting next to him in an state of a mild anxiety, while outwardly I am sure, appearing cooly disinterested. I have that bad habit, but I cannot seem to shake it for anything other than appearing utterly without any social skills. His occasional turn to stare at me started to un-nerve me. I was thinking, my gosh, I am practically touching him in this seat and he has to turn to me and closely look at me. The anxiety in my mind was building and I was becoming more uncomfortable. I chided myself for becoming un-nerved and uncomfortable. Why should I feel this way when so many women would devour the attention? That is just one aspect of my uniqueness is all I can say.

At this point Fred turned his attention to his friend, Quiet Man.

"Why don't you take her out? To a restaurant or for a drink?"

Mortification could not have been worse. Was I not in Fred's presence? Why did he speak as if I was not there? Why was he not speaking to Belina and engaging her in some sordid conversation of his success in life as he was doing to others for most of the night?

I did all I could do, which was laugh and laugh. It broke the tension for me. Quiet Man was looking Fred in the eye, intently, unfettered by what Fred was carrying on about in his inquisitive, demanding manner.

"Why not? I think you should invite her out. It will be wonderful! Muse, wouldn't you like to go out with Quiet Man?"

Quiet Man had a gentle smile on his face. I cannot remember how he responded to Fred. I cannot even remember what he said to me about a date. I was still ignoring the entire topic by laughing at them. The only answer Quiet Man got out of me was a giggly laugh.

Fred, after a while, announced he had to leave.

I thought, Quiet Man must think I am crazy. Fred had done all he could to referee the moment, which is what unglued me. It did not un-glue Quiet Man.

I did not want Quiet Man to think I was rude, crazy or unglued. Without much thinking and completely out of character for me, at least in most situations, I emboldened myself and reached into my evening bag and pulled out my card. I handed it to Quiet Man who was so graceful. He examined my card. I had my photo on it and he was examining my picture and information. At least he won't forget what I look like, though the photo on the card is a good photo, one of like ten thousand shots to get a decent photo, since I am utterly un-photogenic.

"I will call you" he said as he rose from the table to catch up with Fred and Belina.