Dragon-Con Stories: The missed connection

If I had one genuine gripe about Dragon-Con weekend, this would be it.

She laughed with me, and not necessarily at me, at my completely failed attempt to pop off the cap of my Blue Moon bottle on the door hinge, resulting in a shattered bottle tip, and foam gushing out.  She gave me no indication, be it through our lengthy conversation or body language, that she minded my lame flirting and loitering around her, while she was stuck at another convention’s marketing table.  The words came easy, and the topics transitioned seamlessly as we conversed about various topics from movies, Emma Stone, whom I name-dropped as a comparison to her own eyes (which is obviously a good thing), to anime conventions and costumes, based on the cornucopia of people to watch.  What started out as an innocuous complimentary remark turned into a pleasant encounter.

Ultimately, she left to go on a lunch break, and I didn’t see her again for the rest of the convention.

I hadn’t eaten yet at that time; I should’ve offered to buy her lunch, because I would have loved to have continued our conversation, if she didn’t mind, that is.  Or at least tried to get her phone number, and ask if I could buy her a drink or three later on in the evening.

It’s not like I had aspirations to have the kind of convention one-night stand that people on 4chan fabricate stories of, or that I was seeking a deep, meaningful, life-changing relationship.  But the opportunity to pursue, that ever-so-fun and exciting chasing of a girl, and a good-looking one at that, would have been fantastic, even for just one evening.  Make me feel like I still have some mojo, if I ever needed to channel it.

But you know what I did instead?  We exchanged names, I said it was pleasant to have met her, and that I hope to see her again some time; at a convention of over 50,000+ people, that was beyond halfway over.  Fuck me.

Instead, I know just her name, and know if I went to a convention in Nashville, I could probably chance running into her again, but if I tried that shit with just this much knowledge, I may as well go get a DSLR, and trek up to Tennessee when that convention rolls around.

Regret – such is the essence, the nature, of the missed connection.

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