I am a pussy.
Every morning I get on my bus at 8:38. Every morning I see him: my bus crush.
Our enduring relationship has been off and on roughly since the summer. He’s really quite quiet… considering we haven’t said a word to one another. The whole situation is quite sad- I do realize that. In my mind, I can conjure up some semi-witty ice-breaker, but instead I fiddle with my iPhone or send a text to my friend saying “I’m pussing out again this morning.”
I think a part of the problem is an issue that we all face. I am only about 50% sure he’s gay. It’s easier in the straight world to spark random conversations as it’s assumed everyone is straight until crossed legs or lingering stares prove otherwise. Man meets woman; man woos woman; the hard thing hits the soft thing; repeat. I’ve seen straight porn before, so I know these things.
Maybe part of the problem is that I am confusing subtle flirtation with harmless random glances. Maybe he’s looking back because I am staring like a creeper. Maybe it’s just a coincidence that he chooses to sit next to me, or decides to enter the bus last- as I do the same.
Maybe the whole problem lies with the fact that if I talked to him and fall flat on my face, I have to see him every morning on the bus for however long we live next door to one another (oh yeah.. he lives next door). In the morning when I am that hazed state between awake and asleep, it’s nice to chillout without the need for forced small talk… is what I tell myself.
Or…. maybe I am just a pussy.