His name was Daniel. I must have been around 13 at the time, I was on holiday with my mother in the mountains. In my hotel there was this guy, he was a couple of years older than I, dead cute, on holiday with his family as well. We used to send each other steaming hot glances through the dining hall, but that was all. One evening, after skiing, I was back at the hotel and went downstairs to the rec room, just to check if the ping pong table was free. And there he was, sitting in the dark in front of an arcade videogame (ah, the early ’90s!). I choked. I must have turned as white as a ghost, panicking while looking at him from the corner of the room, unseen. I was completely taken aback, finding him there was the last thing I expected, and all I could do was just RUN. Literally, I ran away back to my room. Only after I had closed the door behind me I realised what an idiot I had been. Still to this day, I cannot forgive myself for not having pushed a little bit harder.

Yesterday after practice, after a very very long time, I felt once more exactly like my 13-year-old self. An idiot.

At times, situations start rolling down slippery slopes in a split second and you just have to roll with it, you don’t have time to ponder, you go with your instincts. But then again, insticts usually follow fear. So here I am, feeling like an idiot.
The chance I was waiting for was handed to me on a plate but there were too many… I would say unknown variables, but no, the point was there were too many witnesses. I would have been made and I can’t have that. I might actually have been made anyway, but at least I still have plausible deniability.

I felt so obvious and so spotted I just had to run. I couldn’t let it be so evident, not to others, maybe not to him either. So I gave up on that chance, and became once again the queen of the snorts. I spent the entire ride home literally hitting myself for how stupid that was, just letting it slip away. There will be other chances, I suspect, and then I’ll knock myself out trying to figure out what to do once I’ve been fed what I deserve. Good luck with that. Be careful what you wish for, for I wished a chanced to get close to him and I got it and now I don’t know how to handle the rest.

Honest to God, I wasn’t chasing for this chance, I was acting under the purest of practical interests, but when the chance came, I recognised it clear as day. It was the perfect crime of opportunity. I was the only one to know, however candid it may have looked like on the outside, that for me it was just the ultimate excuse. Was I the only one? Consider someone working at least twice a week in the same place, for at least one year, always at the same working hours, so that the same situation would have happened already: would they really not know any other solution that didn’t involve their direct presence? Everybody else did, but I. So much for a crime of opportunity. I would tend to say, with all the hybris in that, that no, I was not the only one.

 

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