Flashback. . .
I remember flipping through profiles last summer. This one guy had a great profile name. It seemed to sum up a few of his interests, and his career, in a clever turn of phrase. Something like JacksonHoleinOneNote
I’m guessing a skier, a golfer and musician? Score! Very cool.
I clicked on his profile name. And honestly, I barely glanced at his photo. He had a few pics and that’s certainly a plus. But the turn of phrase in general, and the specific interests, intrigued me. On the flipside, if he had great pics and a profile name of Don’tPullWeedSmoker I might not have had the same interest.
Regardless, I started reading his profile. Likes to ski—snow and water. Has a boat. Loves to golf. Part time musician. Full time doc. Very cool. Funny, articulate. Nice profile.
Then I looked at the pics. Because that’s not where I often start, honestly.
Whoops. . . .I know this guy! Not well, but well enough to recognize him in a pic.
We’re ridden in the elevator together. He’s in my office building periodically. Not daily. But often enough.
Now what. . .
Without thinking, I clicked the profile shut and snapped my laptop shut.
Damn, I realized, in a mild panic, that he would know that I had looked at his profile. Many (most? All?) dating websites tell you who looked at your page.
So, I looked, but I didn’t “like” or “wink” or “flirt.” Damn.
Now what . . .
There’s a good chance I’ll see this guy in an elevator next week or next month And he’s kinda cute. And I like the idea of a skiing, boating, golfing, doc who plays the piano and travels the world.
Now what. . . .
Would he feel slighted that I “looked” but didn’t “wink?” I didn’t want to offend him.
On the otherhand, should I feel slighted that we’ve been in the elevator together, and have a slew of mutual friends, and he’s never said anything more than “hi,” live and in person?
Now what. . . .
I paced a bit. That’s usually helpful. And after much pacing and thinking, I decided to leave a nice “hi there” message. Armed with a plan, I opened his profile, but before I could write a word, my phone rang. Then someone stopped my office. I had to go to a meeting. My golfing/boating doc went right out of my mind.
Until I opened the app hours later, on the ride home, and realized I had clicked on his profile but never left my note. It would show that I “looked” twice. Shit.
Now what . . .
Trying to avoid the same pit-of-your-stomach that we’ve all felt since 6th grade, when suddenly boys began to get goofy, and gawky, and . . .cute, I decided to be a big girl. I opened his profile AGAIN and left him a note. “Steve! I think that’s you. We’ve ridden in the elevator a few times. Not sure what the protocol is for finding a familiar face on a dating site. lol Have a great summer.”
I think I sidestepped any future, awkward moment nicely. Right? I’m a regular Madlyn Albright.
But I’m surely going to bump into this guy, one of these days.
Now what . . . .
I have no way of knowing if he ever saw my note. It was a really awful dating site. I was off it in less than 30 days. If I found it odd and a bad fit, he may have as well. He may have never realized I looked at his profile or left him a note. Is that what I hope for?
And time passed, and life goes on. And the panic of the moment becomes a lost memory, swept away by pace of our lives.
I had forgotten about the whole thing, until I bumped into him at an event this evening. He was on the guest list for an event my office hosted tonight.
We chatted for a few minutes. Nice guy. Great smile. I wasn’t sure if he was lingering . . .or waiting for the elevator. I have no way of knowing if he saw that message. Does it matter?