There’s something about bangs. Well, at least for me. I don’t want to think too much about it because thinking too much ruins things. It’ll suffice to say that she had them. And cat-like eyes as I had never seen before. And her legs with that dress. I don’t know how to describe a dress, if I try to describe it, I’ll ruin it too. It’ll suffice to say that she was wearing one, and that it was short, and that it looked good on her. I wondered if she liked Rock & Roll. I had to find out. 

 

“Please God, last favor I ever ask.” 

“You say this every time.” 

“I know, but this time it’s true.” 

 

I walked towards her table, slowly, giving my brain time to think of an original thing to say. I had a short distance to either come up with something or pretend I was going to the restroom. Ending up in the restroom when you don’t have to go is so embarrassing. 

I had nothing, but she must have picked up my intentions (as if that was hard to do), because she moved her cup of white wine leftwards and scooted over to make room for me on the wooden bench she was sitting on.

 

“If you insist,” I said.

“I insist,” she said.

 

Her friend gestured something to me that I failed to interpret but it seemed urgent. She was moving her eyes frantically. Maybe a bear behind me but what were the odds. Maybe a boyfriend. God, don’t let it be a boyfriend!

 

The moment my butt touched the bench a flock of waiters came towards us displaying artificial jubilee. They were clapping and one of them was holding a slice of chocolate cake with a sparkle on top. They surrounded us and started singing Happy Birthday. The waiter with the cake placed it right in front of the girl I wanted to talk to. I stayed there, singing with everyone else. My face was in each and every picture. After the second ‘happy birthday,’ knowing what was about to come, the girl said in my ear “Jane,” but when the time came, I failed to squeeze it in the song. The trick was to use “dear Janie.”

​

When everyone, one by one, stood up to hug her I felt a bit silly, so I told her friend that it had been great meeting them and I went back to my table. I was aware that I didn’t have any info to contact her, but what was I going to say, “give me your Insta?” Is there a more anticlimactic question? Is there a bigger paradox?

​

I didn’t see her again that night; you can’t force things. Plus, isn’t it fun when chance plays a part? I’ve always longed for a simpler world. A world with bakers and butchers. A world where chance plays a part. And yet, when I got home, I couldn’t shake off the feeling that I had missed a great opportunity. I should’ve asked.

 

I tried every possible way of writing her name on social media. I combined it with popular last names and other embarrassing things like bands and flowers and horoscope signs. Technology has exponentially increased the ways in which we can be pathetic. I gave up.

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I dropped my body on top of my bed with my clothes still on. I stared at the popcorn ceiling for a while, squinting to find cat faces that distracted me from my own thoughts. So many cats. Jane probably likes cats. I fell asleep.