I really owe you an apology. When I heard through the grapevine that you were thinking about asking me to the dance, I'm not sure if you know this, but I responded like a total bitch. It's not like anyone else was asking me, but I thought I was too good for you. I thought you were weird. You were always wearing that polo shirt tucked into your khakis, walking around talking about books that no one had ever heard of. You hung around with that wicked short skinny kid with the spiked messy hair. He wore the same leather trench coat everyday and the two of you probably talked about... I have no idea what you could've been talking about, but I knew I was too cool for you. Well, I thought I was too cool for you, so back through the grapevine I sent the message that I wanted to go to the dance with my girlfriends. You know, to let you down easy before you actually asked me.
That night I got all dolled up in my White House Black Market strapless dress (my tastes haven't changed much) and bobbed my head to the beat in a circle of my friends wishing silently that the cute boy on the basketball team would ask me to dance next slow song. He didn't, but you did. You walked right over, wearing your suit jacket and tie (totally overdressed in the sea of DEB dresses and Old Navy slacks) and asked if I would dance with you. Feeling awkward and reluctant, but not wanting to be rude, I said yes.
Your hands were all clammy and so was your brow line and I felt so embarrassed not wanting anyone to see us dancing together. I remember looking around the gym, thinking everyone was staring at me - at us. My friends stood together a few feet away, some giggling, some giving me apologetic "it's almost over" glances. You weren't watching them though, you were looking right at me.
Thirty seconds into the song, "I... uhm.. I have to go to the bathroom."
That was the best I could do? Seriously? I said it and I ran to the to meet my BFF and left you there, standing near the DJ, alone. And I am truly sorry.
Because now here I am eight years later drowning in a sea of unanswered OkCupid messages, hoping that boys men will text me first, hold the door, or buy my beer. I, like so many women, fall for guys who don't want to commit to me, nor be seen together in public. I fall for the sorry-my-phones-been-dead-for-three-weeks texts and the I'm-not-looking-for-a-girlfriend-but-if-I-was-it-would-be-you excuses. I would kill for a guy to approach me now with the same confidence you did at our first high school semi-formal.... to walk right up to me and ask me to dance right there in front of everyone. I didn't know it then, but clearly you were too cool for me.
You probably still are, as far as FaceBook can tell me. You understand that there is more to the world than what's right under our noses. You raise funds for dreamers, and watch movies and football, and read books, and still wear your shirts tucked into your khakis. I'm sure you're doing well, and I hope you are. So, even if you don't remember this night, I wanted to tell you that I do, and I wanted to say that I'm sorry. You deserved a better dance partner.
