H I B
I was walking out of the UCen with my laptop in one hand and the other to adjust my hat. I was dressed to the nines as some would call it. Not for any special reason, just because I felt great that day and I tend to get more work done. Black vest, white shirt, skinny tie, black jeans and a fedora — surrounded in a sea of board shorts and yoga pants. Give me a break. I’m not surprised I caught your attention. I’m surprised you ran up to me to introduce yourself.
“Hi! This is going to sound totally weird, but I’ve seen you before. You’re always dressed up with a fedora. Do you want to like hang out some time?”
Naturally, I was pleasantly shocked someone noticed my outfit across multiple days — more so you had to run up to me before I got away. I loved that. I played it cool and added you on Facebook on the spot and also asked you for your number. You obliged with the happiest look I’ve seen all week at the time. You reminded me terribly of my ex — but only much more genuine.
We texted soon after the usual getting to know you questions: what year are you, where are you from, what’s your major, etc. It was a weekday and we made plans for a hangout at Freebirds. I offered to pay for you, but you insisted I didn’t. We hit it off, if I recall. You were enthralled at seemingly everything I told you and never broke eye contact. Impressed is best to describe it. You went on-and-on about how your dad was an alcoholic, but I passed that off as being a bit nervous meeting somebody new.
I walked you home after and hugged you good bye. I never did hang out with you a second time. Not that you weren’t a nice girl — just that I was busy more so than anyone else trying to cram four classes every quarter. I blew off more than a few of your messages and texts. I at least owed you a reply, but I didn’t. You naturally got the message I wasn’t all that interested — I’m sorry. Seems I only realize now I was a bit of a jerk.