Charm

It's killing me. Like a Roberta Flack song. Softly.

The man was all charm tonight. All eye contact, all flashing smile, all circling around, all returning again and again. We kept finding ourselves standing together off to the side somewhere having quick low-toned conversations about something (whatever). I felt like we were conspiring, constantly. If that man is not flirting with me, I have no idea what flirting looks like.

And neither do a bunch of other people: the group comments are starting to happen more overtly now. "Pascale and Mr. WPY, two peas in a pod," remarked one ~ slightly inebriated ~ player.

We keep having these stubs of fascinating talks, where we just get started on a topic, but then the break is over and the game starts up again. I want to sit in a coffee house, or on a sofa, and just have hours of conversation. I like this man a lot; I find him deeply appealing.

He had a great day's play, chopping first in one game and winning another outright. I shook his hand to congratulate him, and then he held out his hand again to say good night. It was all I could do not to fall into his arms. But I can't, and won't, do that in the poker context. It's just not right for the situation. The gossip mill has already started working overtime.

But, by god, when (if?) we are on our own together, I will find out what the hell is going on here. Maybe I'm insane. And maybe everyone else is just keying off my interest in him (and not the other way around). It sure doesn't feel like that, but I have been wrong before.

Meanwhile, I am in a state of heightened sensitivity, in terrible, agonizing suspense; I cannot emphasize enough how much he needs to call me.