the waiter
Maybe I was under the influence of alcohol. Maybe I had taken a leaf from
discoecstasy’s hope-inspiring entry for the new year, or maybe I was unaware of just how far my courage could bring me. Whatever the reason might be, I think I ended up surprising myself the most when I gathered enough courage to do what I did on Saturday night at Mox.
I can’t help but be reminded of an incident a number of years ago when I confessed to S my feelings for him in the midst of shoppers brushing past us along Orchard Road. In contrast, this incident at Mox was much more spontaneous and carried an element of adventure without the tugging of a heavy heart I remember experiencing when I faced S.
“What’s your name?” I asked the waiter whom I found dishy, looking him in the eye after I had finally decided not to let this opportunity pass me by.
“Err… Why?” his expression was one of surprise accompanied with a faint smile. I wonder what thoughts ran through his mind when I asked for his name.
I was about to respond when he immediately went on to tell me his name.
“[insert name]”
“[insert name]?” I uttered what I could make out of his name, wanting to make sure and get it right. However, his name was hardly audible due to the music drowning it out. Perhaps there was also my increasingly impatient eagerness to say what was on my mind.
So came my punch line.
“I think you’re cute.”
For a moment after the words left my lips, I couldn’t believe I had said that. The waiter broke into a bashful smile before shying away quickly, a sign I took to mean that I had frightened him away. Knowing how I tend to be guarded and restrained particularly in matters of the heart, I gave myself a pat on the back for overcoming my own inhibitions this time. Besides S and now, this waiter, I wonder when I’ll ever have the courage again to be so upfront about my feelings.
Why do so many of us get gripped by a fear of baring our feelings? When an opportunity to unveil what we keep in our hearts arrives at our doorstep, we more usually than not succumb to our reservations and choose not to take the chance. By baring our feelings, what was once secret and tucked away in some corner of our hearts would be brought out in the open. We become unusually vulnerable. We risk subjecting ourselves to judgment, humiliation and also, rejection. The stakes of coming clean are deemed too high, putting us off from taking a shot.
The waiter returned shortly after to clear our glasses while I was at the verandah. My friends and I headed for home after a while and I left things as they were. I guess I could have gone up to him again to leave him my number but I lacked the extra courage I needed to do so. Now, I find myself riddled with “what ifs”. If I had done so and he chooses not to contact me, then at least I have an answer and I know I could endure the bitter taste of rejection.
Already, one friend has said I should go back to Mox to look for him. I’m torn between leaving things as they are, as what the rational side of me would advise, and going back to finish what I started, as what my heart would tell me to do.
What should it be?