The Handshake

True story. Read, enjoy, and know that I have related a true scenario which makes the story even more classic.

The Handshake


Like every woman, I strive to have a little romance mixed in among the books, papers, and overall trauma of collegiate life. I am picky with romance, too, and tend to choose the wrong men.
Who doesn’t at some point or another?
But what hasn’t happened to me (that I know of, that is) is a secret crush. Nobody has ever admitted that they have had a thing for me but was too shy to say anything. Until way too late, of course.
So imagine my shock when Coffee Boy randomly asked me out on an impromptu date. There I was taking shelter in the regular gathering place, minding my own business and –BAM! I’m caught totally off guard, and next thing I know, I’m plopped onto a barstool talking to Coffee Boy, his apple-green eyes sparkling in the dim flicker of candle light. I never noticed those eyes before but they are electric tonight.
Our conversation sparks and catches fire; there’s nothing we don’t talk about, and we laugh a lot. We talk about everything from the hilarious to the nitty-gritty details of everyday life . . . you know, the things one never talks about on a first date. Ever.
And while the two of us sat perched on our stools and dangling beers in our hands, I realize this is that moment. This is that lean-in-for-your-first-electric-kiss moment, and as if the puppet master pulled both our strings simultaneously, we kissed.
You’re expecting me to say, “And it was electric!”
Nope. It was much more than that. Usually (and many can identify) a first kiss is more like a medical evaluation than an enjoyable experience that goes something like this:
Judge #1: A little spitty. Could have used a bit less drool. Oh my GOD! Get your tongue out of my throat. I finally found the next member of Kiss but I - can’t - BREATHE!
It wasn’t like that, either. It was peaceful and fluid and curious. It was calm, peaceful and definitely warranted a swoon-worthy sigh. I think I did gaze into those apple-green eyes and sigh. It couldn’t be helped, really.
So what went wrong?
Well! That’s a loaded question, isn’t it? Fast forward to one week later where Coffee Boy and I met up again, apparently expecting lightning to strike twice. Sitting among a group of 8-10 people, I felt isolated and spotlighted. Things were just weird, and no amount of draft beer would fix that. So after many attempted and failed starts at conversation, Coffee Boy walked me to my car.
STOP!
And ask yourself, ‘what would Jessie do?’ Personally, standing under the soft glow of moonlight with an attractive and interesting person, I would have either hugged them or placed a kiss on his cheek. But not Coffee Boy!
He stared down at his shoes, and then as though resolute in his decision, he reached out and shook my hand. And the message couldn’t have been clearer.
Umm, OUCH. It was as though he had reached into his pocked and dragged out a bucked of ice, dumped it on my head and proceeded to pat me on the back and say, “See ya around buddy”.
Luckily the strangeness of the night rubbed goodwill on me, because instead of going straight home to reevaluate my sex appeal with a bottle of Blanc, I decided instead to laugh. And laugh. And laugh some more.
Really, who shakes a girl’s hand?