I can’t stop thinking about last night, everything that happened and how amazing the entire night was. And after last night I can’t seem to stop thinking about you. I can’t stop thinking about how surprised I was when I figured out how well you can play the guitar and how I thought that it really is time for me to learn how to play it too since my own guitar is sitting in a lonely corner of my room, waiting to finally be picked up. I can’t seem to stop thinking how you declined my offer to go and grab you a beer, and then nonchalantly got up and did it yourself. Still, that didn’t stop me from going to kitchen and bringing bottle(s) of beer for others simply because I couldn’t sit in a smoke filled room for hours on end. And that’s why someone jokingly called me a waitress. And I knew it wasn’t you, but it didn’t bother me.

I was aware of your indifference (or at least it seems to me that it’s indifference) when it came to me. Most of the time it felt like you didn’t really care about my presence – or absence for that matter. Sometimes it even felt like you were tolerating me and my presence, like you thought it would be better if I wasn’t there. And me being me, I quickly got used to that.

So I guess that’s the reason why I was so surprised by your last night’s reaction when I told you I had to go home. I mean, we all drank, and danced to the music we don’t really listen to, and had fun (or at least I did), but none of one was drunk – so drunk that the saying “drunk words – sober thoughts” became reality. We drank, but I doubt anyone was more than a bit tipsy. So, naturally, your: “Already?” laced with “why-don’t-you-stay-a-little-bit-longer?” tone and something that resembled a sad face or something close to that was anything but expected.

Now that I think about it all, maybe I should have stayed few minutes longer and talked about it with you last night – tell you how I feel about it, tell you what I think about it…and if everything went to hell, blame it on the alcohol, loud music and how late (or early – depends how you look at it) was when we talked.

But the thing is that I know I worry a lot, and I know you’re not perfect, and I know that I probably should have talked about that just to find out where exactly we stand and to figure out if that small, unexpected gesture meant anything or it was just me hoping that it did. Maybe I should have talked about it with you just so I can try to figure not only myself, but the whole situation that was most probably meaningless, but caught my attention nonetheless.