We met through Meetup—a Spanish-speaking group, to be specific. I took a few deep breaths before walking into the bar that night, preparing myself for the guaranteed awkwardness that would come with meeting a dozen strangers to speak in a foreign language. The potential reward was worth the risk, though, even as an introvert. I was new to the Bay Area and desperately seeking like-minded, platonic friends.
This group was a demographical melting pot. There were native speakers of English and Spanish and various other languages. There were US citizens and ex-pats and travelers. Old people and young people, professionals and students. Everyone had vastly different Spanish skills, as well.
I sat down next to you at the table and ordered a glass of wine. The conversation didn’t go much further than the basics – exchanging names and careers and ages. You were just beginning the long journey that is Spanish language learning as an adult. But, eventually, we settled into English, a language we comfortably shared. You were entertaining.
I was excited to have a friend, to grow my Oakland network. When you suggested that we meet for a drink another night, I agreed eagerly. We went to that Tiki bar on College Ave and sampled tropical cocktails under the dim lights. When you scooted closer to me, our knees briefly touching, it suddenly dawned on me how date-like the encounter was turning. When you sneakily paid the tab, it became clear.
In the end, we were looking for different things. I was desperate for platonic friends, for people who would stick around and spend time with me as future love affairs came and went.
Or, maybe, I just wasn’t that into you.
In any case, you were searching for a romance I couldn’t provide at the time. I hope you found it elsewhere.
