I introduced myself to you twice. It was embarrassing.

We were all together, and they said your name, and I looked at your hair and your smile and the way your eyes lit up. I remember something like later you said you were nervous about the whole thing, but when I think of that now, I realize that there isn’t any way for you to understand what it was like to see you. After the group introduction, someone introduced you individually; I mean, someone said, “And here is so-and-so…”

We shook hands and said “Hi” and “Nice to meet you.” I didn’t know what else to say.

Later that day, the same day, I stopped by and acted like I was looking for someone, and I said my name and put out my hand. Your eyes did that thing, and you smirked when you said, “I know; we’ve met.”

A thing like that had never happened before to me, so at that point, I was out of words. I mumbled something like “Have a nice day” and I got the hell out of there.

After that, we didn’t see each other a lot, and after the second introduction, I was nervous around you. I didn’t even know if we’d speak again, but I really didn’t know how I could’ve said anything anyway. It was like one of those shows.

We were in two different places altogether, but I can’t quite figure out how to tell you what that first day was like. Your eyes, your smile, your hair. The way you turned and waved to everyone, and no one.

I’m sure to most of them, it was just another day. But I introduced myself twice for a reason, and there really isn’t any other way I can describe it.