Last week at the Burn (4-day ‘festival’) I attended, there was this guy there I found attractive. He had long dark hair, thick eyebrows, really cool sparkly outfits. I recognized him from last year when I’d seen him at another burn and then at a friend’s Halloween party.
But at those events last summer I was pregnant and showing, and I wasn’t feeling very comfortable in my body. I wasn’t feeling particularly sexy or attractive.
Because of this, even though I fancied him, I didn’t dare tell him how I felt. I didn’t dare make a move.
I was terrified that if I did make a move, he would reject me. And if he did that, it would decimate my already mangled confidence.
So last year, instead of saying anything, I just indulged in the occasional brief conversation or lingering smile and hoped that something, at some point, maybe, might possibly, happen. But it didn’t, and that was that.
Cut to last week and there he was again. Long dark hair, thick eyebrows, sparkly outfits and all.
And this time, when I saw him, I felt like me again. (Nearly) back in my old body, feeling confident in myself, feeling sexy once again.
Seeing him made those old insecure feelings bubble up again. I felt shy when we hugged to say hello and smiled at each other from across a table. Until finally one afternoon, at the “Starf*cks” camp, whose members gift fresh espresso drinks while donning green aprons and sometimes nothing else, I ended up sitting next to him on a bean bag while holding my baby on my lap.
Someone was playing guitar and singing on the mic on their open stage, when I finally turned towards him and said, “Hey, I wanted to tell you, I think you’re really cute.”
He smiled at me, and I smiled back and then he turned towards the person singing again. I held on tighter to my baby squiggling in my arms.
And I waited.
And I waited.
And I waited.