What it is.

He was drinking Red Stripe, and the bottle bounced up and down as he leaned to his right to engage in conversation.

He was standing next to me on my right. One would have thought I would fight to keep that space on the floor, after the multitude of "what if" scenarios I'd laughed over before.

Instead, I turned to my left and tapped M on her shoulder. "You want a drink?" She nodded and I made a brief trip to the bar. Corona for her, vodka cranberry for me. The bartender smiled as I left an extra tip. I wanted karma to keep looking out for me.

I returned to my spot, handed M her bottle. Sunk my lime wedge into the crimson drink and used the straw to trap the fruit beneath the ice. When I looked back to my right to see how the conversation had progressed, he turned and leaned toward me slightly.

Krackel-clunk. He toasted the glass bottle against my plastic cup. Quick smile.

It felt like an understanding. It was a pleasure to be in his company, and I was comfortable standing nearby. He seemed cool. Quiet. I liked that I wasn't overwhelmed by him; I loved that I wasn't unnervingly impressed.

But I hadn't gone there for him and I wasn't going to stand idily by. I had quietly, casually made it clear that I felt comfortable enough around him to walk away.

Cheers.