Getting Old

Today, for the first time, I have really wanted to talk to -- not just talk to but talk to talk to -- a random girl for the first time. I still feel... dirty, disgusting, perverted...

I was exploring the area near the station, looking for some good restaurants (hehe why may come later, may not :P but Theja will be proud), nearing the end of my exploration when I first found a cheap Singaporean restaurant (how ironic? random?), and drifting away to somewhere where I could satisfy my hunger and retain my good mood, and found a relatively cheap place specializing in pasta. I wasn't too sure about the quality of the food from just the pictures, but I noted that the alchohol -- which was strong! everything was 40-60% -- was pretty cheap. I decided to keep moving, hurry on back home and cook something, but when walking past the window I took a peek inside, wondering about the atmosphere, and saw her.

So pretty.

All alone at a center table for 10 but the kind that anybody can sit down at, with a plate of pasta, noodles, and one of those drinks, looking slightly down and in her own world.

So pretty.

I made up my mind then and there, that I had nothing to lose and was going to go talk to her.

"Are you alone?"

I had nothing to lose, I was hungry anyway and worst-comes-to-worst I'm still eating in a nice place.

"Mind if I join you?"

And slowly,

"Do you know what's good here?"

the weight of what I was about to do started to press down upon me.

How on earth do you start that kind of conversation in Japanese?

That momentary pause, a small bit of hesitation is what let me regain control; I wondered why she was there and made up my own backstory for her, before I could even raise my foot to begin to step towards the door. Feeling sorry for her (she had just been dumped by her boyfriend, I decided), I knew the best thing and what she really wanted was to be left alone for a while, and with that I took off for home, every now and then casting reluctant glances over my shoulder.

Of course back at my dorm at 230 am, alone again, I'm kicking myself for ruining my first Love Hotel (I have a vivid, wild imagination... On wanting to go back to my apartment, since she lived with her parents, I would have had to have lied and said my commute was more than three hours, so of course I had missed the last train, upon hearing she would spit out the name of the place we were going... of course, she might have been, probably was a student too and by the time that conversation would have taken place there would have been no need to talk about missing the last train, so it really does just go crazy!) experience, but at the same time so glad for that pause... It's a light feeling, it really is, I know this kind of thing doesn't and shouldn't matter. But at the same time, I feel like I'm finally getting old, growing up, starting to act like a "man", and... I don't know to feel about that, or if this kind of thing will happen again (will I again have the strength to walk away? I think of Love in a Fallen City and am amazed at how much that book has influenced me). The dating field has appeared and suddenly the sharp distinction I had drawn between wanting to be good friends and wanting to get involved with someone is getting fuzzier...

Maybe it's only in my thoughts but, man she was pretty.