He was sitting next to a girl.
I recognized his guitar case first, and then saw him playing it, and then saw the young woman sitting at his table with him.
They were playing guitar together.
I wanted to run away. I wanted to find the quickest escape possible.
Instead, I walked towards them and awkwardly said “hello”.
He introduced me to his friend Emily. I stood there awkwardly. He knew I was coming. We play music on Thursday nights. I texted him to say I’d be there. He texted back to confirm.
He brought a girl. Or maybe she just showed up. I don’t know. I didn’t know. So I stood there, trying to act normal and friendly and asking Emily questions like “Oh, have you been to open mic before?”, and I managed not to run away. I also didn’t manage to take a seat or order my coffee or anything, which John finally noticed with a friendly, “Are you going to get something?”
Yes. Get something. That I’m gonna do.
My response made them laugh. Emily was nice. She laughed at my jokes and awkwardness. John laughed too. I have good comedic timing…it seems.
I walked into the coffee shop, because unlike the title suggests/blatantly states (aka I lied) I was actually outside this entire time, and I stumbled into the line to order drinks. I was gonna buy a muffin. I was hungry and needed to put something in my stomach to take my ibuprofen. I had muffin eating plans. I got out of line.
John bringing a girl, that wasn’t me, to open mic night, was weighing on my mind too heavily. I went to stare at the pastry window. Stared at the muffins. The scones.
What was I doing there? I was going to buy a muffin and then what, go sit out there with them and act like everything was normal? Act like I didn’t just tell him I had a crush on him, and he didn’t just show up at the coffee house with another girl in tow?
I did it. I ordered a smoothie and my muffin and silently wished I had never told him anything, and silently wished that I was safely anywhere else, and silently wished my heart wasn’t so flippin stupid and I wasn’t so flippin stupid, and I took my smoothie and muffin and went outside.
He was just standing from the table to come check on me. Apparently I had been staring at that pastry display case for ten minutes.
I’m not crazy. I did not just stare at a display case for ten minutes. I also frantically texted my cousin (Fail. Epic most horrible fail in the world. He brought his friend Emily. Oh goodness gracious save me. I’m buying a muffin inside. I may die. I think I’ll die. Yep.).
Emily asked me if I wanted to sit down. I did. I offered her some of my muffin. She accepted. God bless her for accepting. When someone accepts your food, you feel…feel, justified in offering it, and closer to them in a way, you know? You feel generous and friendly. Feel more like you belong…because you gave them food.
Turns out, Emily likes drugs. Turns out, Emily knew some of the people John used to be in a band with. Turns out, Emily is a nice person and old friend of John’s.
Don’t judge me for pointing out the drug thing first. It just struck me the most. I mean, she didn’t say much about it. It was more in her actions. This surprised me. I’m hoping it surprised John too.
Anyway…we chilled. It was…okay.
There was no strong evidence that Emily and John are actually together. All evidence points to them simply happening to meet up. As far as I could tell…
So I survived.
Not going to talk about the songs I sang for them, or while on stage.
Not going to talk about those total absolute love songs that if John was paying attention, he could probably think were about him. They aren’t. Really. Kind of. Okay, they may be ABOUT him, but they’re not FOR him. Someone can inspire a song, but you don’t want them to respond to it, you know?
I mean, I wrote love songs because of him, but I don’t want him to hear them and then think he has to love me because of the song. It’s just. My song. That he kinda made me start singing.
I hope he didn’t make any connections.
At any rate, he wound up lending me his jacket, and we sang a song on stage together, so it wasn’t completely bad.
We’re still friends at least.
(I wonder if it was as awkward for him as it was for me, when we were sitting next to each other and that lady started to sing about kissing?)
Gah. Awkward night everywhere.
He drove me home.
We laughed pretty much the entire time.
Sometimes liking someone is horrible…sometimes it’s not.
12:00am, Happy Birthday to Me.