A Moment of Shyness

I’m at a Jazz concert with friends, eating dinner and drinking wine, within the crypt of an old church in the West End of London. The band itself is playing quite a funky mix of covers and quite a few members of the audience are dancing around their tables – some, more embarrassingly than others it has to be said. The demographic is such that we seem to be one of the most youthful tables at the venue – although this tends to lend itself to a more relaxed and friendly atmosphere.

Out of the corner of my eye, I have seen a girl dancing alone who seems to be having a great time. She looks like she might be Spanish or Portuguese. She is about 27 or 28, with long brown hair and big brown eyes. Whether she’s alone or not, I can only guess, as I scan the area to see who she might be with.

Someone fetches another bottle of wine and we dip into more conversation. I occasionally look over to steal glances at the girl as a friend talks to me. She hasn’t stopped dancing and looks for all the world like she’s having the time of her life. I turn back to my friend to listen to the rest of what he is saying, and realise that he has stopped talking and is staring at me. “What?” I say. “Go and talk to her” he says. “No, she’s obviously having a good time and is just into her dancing. I wouldn’t know what to say anyway” I say casually. It’s true, I have a mental block about what to say. This is ridiculous. How is it that I can arrange a date with a beautiful stranger at a set of traffic lights in the pouring rain and yet I’m too shy to say hello, in a relaxed and romantic setting such as this..? “Just fucking go and say hello” says my friend, supportively. He knows the truth though - that I have been struck by a crippling shyness and can’t see a way out of it.

An older woman looks at me, and motions for me to go over to her. She has been sitting to the right of where the girl is dancing and I wonder if they’re together as part of the same group.

I walk over to her and smile. “You young people, you waste too much time” she says, shaking her head and indicating over at the girl. “You’ve been looking at her all night – go and dance with her” I look at the dancing girl, and she looks at me and she smiles and then we are dancing together and it feels so easy, and then two minutes later I hear the lead singer of the band over the speakers “Ok, this is the last song of the night”. “Oh what!!?” I’m not sure if I’ve said it aloud or in my head. I look at the older woman. “I told you” she says.

The girl and I continue to dance until the music stops and I tell her my name and ask her where she’s from. She offers me her hand. “I’m Priscilla” she says “I’m from Brazil but I’ve only been here 3 days” It turns out that she’s in town for only one more day before going to Liverpool for a few days and then going on to the Czech Republic, before heading back to Brazil. “Are you here with friends?” I ask. “No, I’m travelling alone. I love it that way and I’m having such a wonderful time. Every day I’m thinking of 5 things to do and then I discover 5 more things. It’s a wonderful city” She is full of optimism and wide eyed enthusiasm, in a way which is so unbelievably attractive. A moments silence ensues as the place starts to empty “Well, I’d better go – I need to try and call home. It was lovely to meet you though” she says, as my friends walk over. “Bye then” I say, unable to think of a way to detain her, and I watch as she turns and walks off with a wave of her hand.

“There you go mate, do you feel better for talking to her?” “No” I say, “Oh fucking hell..” I dejectedly curse under my breath. I’m annoyed at myself for faffing around and not speaking to her earlier and I tell my friend as much on our way to the exit. As I get to the bottom of the stairs though, I see her again, picking up leaflets of things to do in London. “Hello again” I say. “Oh hello” she says with a smile. We climb the stairs to the exit together and she talks more in detail about her trip and how she enjoys travelling alone to see new places, as she gets to do a lot more things and meet a lot more people. My friends walk over to say goodbye to me, and she takes this as her cue to leave, for good this time. “Oh well, it was really lovely to meet you” she says. She hugs me goodbye and we kiss on both cheeks and I watch as she joins the crowds of tourists heading towards Trafalgar Square.

“Sorry mate, we didn’t mean to interrupt. We only came over to say see you later.” I sigh and let out a deep breath before wearing a manufactured smile. “Don’t worry about it mate, my fault.” I turn back and watch, feeling impotent to the moment, as she gradually gets crowded out by the tourists before finally disappearing from view. And already the self recrimination has set in, as I torture myself with the haunting memory of yet another road not taken.

Still, I guess there’s always next time...