Figuring myself out

I could see him stealing a glance at me from the corner of my eyes. I silently prayed for him to look away so that my heart would return to its ordinary state of rhythmic beats that I was used to. I don’t know why I felt so uncomfortable being looked at. Some of my friends claimed that attention from guys made them feel good about themselves while others took it as a reaffirmation of how highly they thought of themselves to begin with. In the not-so-wise words of one of my outspoken friends, “Attention just makes me remember how “hot” I am in the gloomiest of days and that instantly cheers me up.” I wanted to slap myself for being friends with her when she uttered that pure nonsense like it was pure gold. But a moment later, I remembered how she made me delicious soups and not so delicious jaulo every day when I was bed-ridden with flu last year.

So, I consoled myself by thinking that maybe I am a different story. Attention from anyone makes me conscious about myself, which then invites clumsiness to kick in with full force. In short, I am a nervous wreck.

Everything about my new job was amazing. I liked my role in the overall scheme of the project .I also liked my co-workers. The only thing I dreaded was running across that one particular individual, the attention-giver, in the hallways during lunch breaks. Neither did he say anything nor did he smile. He just stared until I would finally give that “why the hell are you staring at me” look. He would then look away. Ironically enough. the more I tried to escape him, the more conspicuous he seemed to be. Suddenly, I wasn’t running into him only during lunch breaks. Now, he was in the mailroom when I dropped by to buy stamps and he was also in the kitchen when I went in to grab a cup of water. He seemed omnipresent and I couldn’t ignore him anymore. He was somewhat like the Kardashians- they were everywhere and whether you loved them or hated them, you just couldn’t ignore them.

One night, I started to question myself if there was something wrong with me. Why was I so flustered by the attention of a man- a really attractive one at that. I should be flattered, not flustered. Why am I, a college graduate, acting like a seventh grader all over again? I couldn't come up with a viable conclusion of what my story exactly was at that point. Amidst the urge to call my aforementioned friend for some advice(?), I decided against it and laughed my guts off at George Carlin videos before I  called it a night.

to be continued….