“I wanna be contigo
And live contigo, and dance contigo
Para have contigo
Una noche loca…”
— Enrique Iglesias, “Bailando”
This song reminds me of you.
…and that one night.
Mind you, that was a hot mess of a party, to say the least. Most of us were drunk (myself included), and this song came on, out of the blue, in the middle of a raucous fest of singing, laughter, and dancing.
Now, I’d listened to this song back in the States before I left for France. It was a summer hit, and even though I have two left feet in dancing, this song at least was catchy enough to have me tap my feet and snap my fingers to the beat, even join in at the chorus when it came up. And again, I was drunk, so that was another factor…
In any case, “contigo” means “with you,” and god bless Iglesias for being a romantic soul, as I can’t help but be intrigued by you. It has been a couple of months of knowing you in France and still, I can’t get the courage to speak to you.
Not to say that we haven’t spoken at all: we have. But compared with the others, we’ve had the least amount of interaction. You’re nice, but you’re also very aloof, distant enough that I can’t really approach you without feeling intimidated by your presence.
I remember one night when I asked if I could talk to you, one-on-one, about something that was bothering me (and that had to do with you, too). Won’t go into any of the details, but basically, I was a mess and started crying in front of you, and you, confused, were asking me what was wrong. I confessed to you something that was bothering me that night, and you did your best to cheer me up, in you distant, aloof way (of course). We also got to know each other that night; I got to know a bit more of you, being mysterious and all of that. You hugged me in the end, and even though I still wasn’t feeling comfortable around you, I’m glad that you did it out of kindness.
What makes me so reluctant to tell you about my feelings comes down to two aspects: 1) that I’m not so sure about your opinion of me (whether romantic or platonic) and 2) I don’t even know about my feelings one-hundred percent. This tension of wanting to talk to you more and feeling scared by your presence is all too real, and if this ever gets out to the others (or you), I’m really afraid of the outcome. Not that it’ll be a terrible one, but granted, I know that things will be incredibly awkward if this secret were to get out.
I can’t let that happen. My feelings- your feelings- are still up in the air. It frustrates me not knowing, and I literally can’t imagine what you are feeling. Perhaps you have zero interest in me that way, or maybe you do. I really don’t know. But until then, I continue to analyze everything, every interaction that we had, and so forth.
…and that one night, well, it’ll remain in my memory, with you…
— The Finicky Cynic
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