C-Stand Crush

I’m supposed to meet my crush for coffee tonight.  I have no idea if she is interested in me.  I only just worked up the courage to speak to her last week, after months of debating on how to recover from our first meeting during which I actually said the words, “I’m not stalking you.”  Gah!  Did I really say that out loud?

I think it was January, and I had time to kill before class.  I wandered into the department lounge overlooking Washington Square park.  As I sat down to finish my reading, I noticed this striking woman eating a Subway sandwich.  Brunette, tall, skinny, glasses…your basic librarian dream.  I read the same sentence three times as I thought about what I could possibly say to this random, beautiful person sitting next to me.  Veggie delites are the best, eh?  No, weak.  Um, you have some mustard there on the corner of your mouth…here, let me get that.  Hmmm, desperate, and not true.  She left; I was sad.

About twenty minutes later I headed around the corner and up the elevator to my department office.  The doors opened and there she was sans sandwich, drinking from the water fountain.  I froze and then muttered the stalking line.  Why was she in MY department!?  Was she (shudder) an undergraduate student?  I scurried away to the safety of the classroom and tried to focus on privacy law.

During a short break, I left the room, thinking the route would be clear from crush girl by now.  As I rounded the corner, I spotted her at the front desk, working.  Of course, she works in my department and now I’ve said something about stalking and I feel awkward and how am I going to get past her to go to the bathroom and what if I trip and fall through the glass door.  Would she call 911?

I returned to class without incident, or speaking to the file clerk from heaven.  I saw her countless times after that.  She even smiled at me once when I was laughing, walking out of the office with my adviser.  That time, I really did almost fall through the door.  Yet, I said nothing, until last week when I realized since I always said hello to the other person at the front desk, it was really rude of me not to include her.  She seemed delighted to talk to me, or she was just glad to have a distraction while affixing folder labels.  That’s me, better than sticking labels!

Turns out she just graduated from Tisch (pant, pant), and she’s a filmmaker.  She peppered her conversation with all kinds of technical jargon about cameras and angles.  Normally, I find such speech pretentious, and mock people (including myself) in my head while they spout off about semiotics.  Not so with my little femme Kubrick.  Leica lens?  Swoon.  She’s off for principal shooting on her first film tomorrow so I spoke to her at literally the last opportunity.  We live five minutes away from each other.  I wonder if she wears contacts when she shoots.  I hope I don’t trip.

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