It was like any other Friday night.

My friends and I indulged in cheap 30-racks, songs that continue to entertain us every drunken night and all the stories of the week. It was midnight, which meant it was time to embark on a journey — a journey to the wonderful world of dancing, friends and 50 cent beers.

I saw him from across the dance floor through the crowd of intoxicated grinders bumping to throwbacks like Outkast’s “Hey Ya.” I thought about the possibilities of the detours the night’s adventure could take. I quickly dismissed them. I was getting my hopes up. This was the guy whose smile could make me tremble. He was the person who could make me lose my train of thought just by looking at him. Ugh.

But I was there with my friends. It was the little time I had to spend with them during the week. I needed that time, and I didn’t want to think about other excursions like that on that Friday night.

Suddenly, his eyes met mine, and he smiled. As he made his way toward me, all I could think about was all of the times I’ve wanted him to make a move. After a few minutes of the most miniscule small talk, he told me his time in Plattsburgh was coming to an end and that if I ever wanted to come visit him in his new home across the country, I was welcome anytime.

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Our conversation ended abruptly, and my friends sucked me back into their drunken reality. Damn it.

Why did I let him walk away just like that? What was I thinking? Well, now it was over. I went back to doing what I went there to do, and I soon would need a refill.

As I was walking to the bar, I caught him watching me with all of the drunken mess around him that was Green Room that night. I made my way back to my friends, brushing by him again as he was walking in the opposite direction, this time with a sultry greeting that was already spoken.

I kept walking, thinking, “I did it again. What am I doing? I let him walk away without doing anything.” I turned back to watch what I had missed out on walk farther and farther away to then find that he was looking back with the smile that I can’t resist, sharing the same frustration that seemed to have filled the room in that moment.

“Why?” is what I asked myself for the third time that night. I could have done something that could have changed the course of my night, something that would make up for all of the times we had flirted in passing, something that could have been one of the most confident and sexiest things I’ve have ever done. It could’ve been hot.

Now I think, “Why didn’t I take that chance?” Was I nervous? Or was I realizing what was happening a moment too late?

Instead of taking charge and doing what I had only daydreamed about, I missed my chance. Now I will never know what could’ve been. Take it from someone that didn’t take advantage of an opportunity that was staring me right in the face: Don’t miss out on a chance that you may never get again.

Email Lisa Scivolette at fuse@cardinalpointsonline.com

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