18.01.2025 (I Try to Talk to Him)
Seeing him sitting there in the front row had made all the hustle and awkwardness worth it. I rushed in and sat in the fourth row with my notebook and pen. No one was near me, until one of my friends came in after me and sat beside me.
At the very end of the lesson, there was a meditation session. The instructor read a script that was supposed to help us relax, but I could not. I was restless. When he told us to calm down and not think of anything, all I could feel was how anxious I was and how badly I wanted to run away. My anxiety had been high that day in general, and this only made it worse. The lecture itself was good, but the meditation part had gotten to my head.
When it ended, there was a tea break. He was there too. I felt so shy and embarrassed that I could not even get tea myself and had to ask my friend to get it for me. I remembered that I had put a note in his notebook, and fear began creeping in. I wanted it back. So I rushed out, took the note out, and stuffed it into my coat pocket.
After the tea break, everyone started leaving. My friend went to get her things, and I found myself debating whether I should wait. Should I stay a little longer so I could talk to him about being friends? I kept going back and forth in my head.
As I was leaving, he came back to get his bag. I stared a little too much, and he suddenly looked at me and asked, "The session today was nice, right?" I was completely spaced out but managed to say yes. He picked up his bag, smiled, and left.
The library was closing, so I picked up my things as well. But I did not want it to end like that. I had finally gathered the courage to talk to him, and if I let the moment slip, I knew I would not get it back. So I did not wait for him to leave first. I walked out at the same time.
We ended up side by side, walking toward the exit. The host greeted us and asked for feedback on the session. He wanted recommendations. I told him I had not even known there was a session because there had been no announcement and suggested he make a group. He said there already was one and that we should both join. Apparently, he was interested too, because we both walked over to the reception table and gave our numbers. He gave his first, then I followed. My intrusive thoughts told me to try memorizing his as he said it, but that would have been too obvious, and I already knew everyone there, so I let it go.
He left first and I followed.
He sat in the café, probably waiting for his car. I gathered every bit of courage I had and approached him. I told him I wanted to talk. He looked up, curious, and said, "Yes?" I panicked and asked if we could talk outside. He agreed, and we walked to the other end of the garden.
That was when I fumbled badly. I tried to explain that I wanted to talk to him to learn more about religion, but he misunderstood and thought I said I wanted to teach him about religion. The mix-up was frustrating and embarrassing, but eventually I got my point across. He understood, gave me book recommendations, and even gave me his number.
Before he left, I blurted out that he looked very calm and asked how he managed that. He smiled and said it was not easy, that he was not always like this, and that he had to go through a lot to become that calm.
Someone came to pick him up, and as we walked toward his car, I said goodbye. He left, and I headed to mine.
Later that Evening
I was beyond excited afterwards. I could not stop smiling. I even recorded a video of myself retelling what happened because I was scared I might forget the details later.
I called my friend and told her the entire story. Then I walked around for an hour, too restless to go home. My whole family was out of town visiting someone, so I had to stay at my aunt's until they returned.
Since I was still buzzing with excitement, I told my friend everything. She suggested that I text him. She said that because he had given me his number, it meant he was interested too. Earlier I had asked him for book recommendations, so I used that as my excuse.
I introduced myself and sent him a message asking about the name of the book he had mentioned that was not in English. It was not just an excuse, I really was curious about it. But it was also my way to start the conversation.
He replied and told me the name. I asked if it was available in the library. He said he was not sure, but he had a copy and could bring it for me. I said sure. We texted a little more, and I was thrilled.
When it was time for me to leave, I could not bring myself to stop. He was still replying, and I did not want the conversation to end. I sat in my car, texting, refusing to drive away until it slowed down.
Looking back, I realised I overshared a lot. I had started ranting too quickly, pouring out far too much. It was definitely a wrong move.
We also talked about the event earlier, and he asked for pictures. I sent them, and eventually the conversation faded.
But I went home buzzing, knowing that today, after all this time, I had finally talked to him.