I Saw You – But Did You See Me Too?

Missed connection

Do you want to dance with me

Through one of those lonely nights

It’s more than a dream

Maybe we’re reaching the gardens of delight

“Dance with Me” – Alphaville

I remember the first time I saw you. I was at a club waiting for the headliner of the night to start playing. You were djing in between acts. I knew who you were but I had never seen you. But now I saw you. Your silhouette in the flashing silver lights, headphones over ears. You looked cool in your leather jacket, tight black jeans and winklepickers. I couldn’t see your face, I only saw your slim figure. The way you moved to the music, your body in tune with the rhythm. You oozed character, style and sensuality. You were no gender. Your name suggested femme but your body and behaviour said something different.

The band started to play and I moved onto the dancefloor. But I didn’t want to look at the stage. I wanted to turn around and look at you. See your face. So I did. You didn’t notice me. Your eyes were focused on the band. So I could study you for a few seconds. Red lipstick and black short hair, several strands hanging over your eyes. You looked like a cooler version of Ruby Rose. I felt the urge to walk over and touch you. But I turned around and pretended that I didn’t just feel my pussy twitch and my nipples harden. You were standing right behind me throughout the whole show. I danced, I sang along to the music. Always wondering if you had seen me too.

The next time I saw you, I didn’t expect to see you. I wasn’t prepared. I didn’t even think I would go out that night. But one thing had led to another and there I was, waiting for yet another band to start playing. This time in a bigger venue, lots of people, sold out. It had been one of the weirder days of my life and I wanted to just stand by the side and watch the band. I didn’t need or want close contact with other people. And then I saw you. You walked past me and then stood right in front of me. It was unmistakably you. The short black hair, the leatherjacket, the tight jeans, the winklepickers. And suddenly I didn’t mind the thought of being close to other people.

I wondered what you smelled like. I watched you talk to your friends. Laugh. I couldn’t take my eyes off you. I had seen you. You were dancing to the music and so was I. I was secretly hoping you’d turn around and dance with me. Your hands on my shoulders, your eyes lost in mine. Our hips moving to the rhythm, our mouths forming the words of the song. When the show was over, I wanted to say hello. You must have seen me. But there were too many people and you quickly disappeared into the crowd.

The next time I saw you, I went to see your band. You are a musician and artist. There is so much about you that is attractive. I was standing in the crowd, waiting yet again. And I was staring at the keyboard which I knew you’d play. I was going to see you and this time I could observe you without seeming like a creep. And then you came on stage. I held my breath. I tried to take the whole show in, to look at the other people on stage. But all I could focus on was you. You were wearing a see through-shirt, leather pants and a studded belt. You looked so sexy, I would have ravished you right there if you had let me. When you sang, it felt like the whole world stood still and all I could hear was your voice.

After the show, I was hanging out next to the merch stand with some friends. And suddenly you were standing right next to me. People were shaking your hands, hugging you, telling you how amazing you are. I looked over sometimes, seeing you smile, sensing how awkward you felt. And I didn’t want to contribute to your discomfort. I could have talked to you right there, joining the crowd of your admirers. But I didn’t want to be just an admirer. I wanted you to know me.

The next time I saw you, we were at a club again. The audience was small, the bands playing were mostly local. People had come to see the American headliner. I was in a jumpy mood. I saw you walk in with your friends. My heart jumped with the rest of me. You must have seen me. There were not a lot of people around, and you walked right past me. My friends were loud and entertaining. We were the largest group in the place. You surely must have noticed me.

I looked over to you a few times. You were drinking beer, smiling, looking fantastic. Leather jacket, strands of hair over your eyes. I thought this was it. If I would see you alone for a short minute, I would say hello. I just had to. We had been so close to interacting so many times, this time it just had to happen. I was determined. But even before the headliner started, you and your friends walked out of the club and never returned.

I saw you. Many times. Did you see me too?

This is about a crush I had on someone before the pandemic started.


read more of my September Song Project posts.

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10 Responses

  1. Beautiful piece of writing, and I almost want there to be another part, where indeed the connection actually happened 🙂
    ~ Marie

    • Thanks! Well, hey, maybe I finally get to speak to her once clubs and concerts happen again. I see her on social media a lot but I feel like online poking is creepy if you have never spoken before, haha.

  2. Mrs Fever says:

    Sometimes I wonder, with people we are aware of peripherally, whether they share that same awareness.

  3. Lisa Stone says:

    Some kind of sad story. Perhaps, after all, it was necessary to come up and speak?

  4. David Mei says:

    Missed opportunities, what if’s of the road not taken. Nicely written. I think many of us have regrets like that or the follow up date never asked. The advance not made, the kiss missed. Taking the leap to write an email, shake a hand (now elbow bump I guess…), anything to strike up a conversation that may go nowhere or off to paradise.
    Take a chance.

  5. Aw, missed opportunity for both 🙁

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