Gretch-a-sketch (old)

So here's what happened.

Last night I attended the Grad Night put on by my school. There were some really inspirational talks and I enjoyed myself. It was a nice way to finish up an otherwise awful day. Let's just say it involved me locking myself out of the apartment (my cell phone was definitely next to my bed) and making an emergency run to Payless to buy shoes because we can't wear flip-flops on campus. I know, right? The one day I decide to wear flip-flops to my internship... Anyhow, the shoes were only like five bucks and they were rip-offs of the Croc Ballet Flats. I'm sternly anti-Crocs (like, I would vote for the candidate who promised to ban them) but fairly ambivalent towards the flats. So my feet looked ridiculous, but they were actually comfy for about fifteen minutes. By the end of the day, my pinkie toes looked like bloody Vienna Sausages and I ended up walking back to my car barefoot.

Meanwhile, back at the ranch Grad Night, we all shuffled into the Cultural Hall for refreshments and Nifty Gifties. The grad bags were charmingly packaged in a burlap sack and came with an ice scraper and an Idaho Spud candy bar, I KID YOU NOT. By the time I get my plate of crackers, cheese, and veggies (Hey mom! I ate vegetables tonight!), there's this guy sitting a couple of seats over. Unmarried? Check. Apparently old enough to be graduating? Check. Cute? Chizzeck.

"So, what are you graduating in?" (Ending in a preposition? Smooth, Gretchen.)
He finishes chewing his celery. It figures I ask right when he's eating the most awkward vegetable in the world.
"Psychology."
"Hey, me too!" (I've never had a class with him, but it turns out he's a transfer student.)

We converse for some time, covering topics like hometowns and how we liked the university. Gradually it shifts into favorite movies, hobbies, and where we'd like to travel. (He'd like to spend half a year just touring Europe and I have to restrain myself from outright asking him to go with me.) He's interesting, intelligent, and omg he surfs. I casually mention that I've never been surfing, but I've always wanted to try! (And THAT was a blatant lie. You would have done the same thing.)

It gets to that point where there's nothing but brownie crumbs on our plates and I'm chewing the last bits of ice in my cup. I've got homework, so I gracefully mention that and start to get up. I still didn't know his name, so I ask and tell him mine. I pause for a second, just in case he wanted to ask me out or something. Nothing. Nada. I wish him luck in his life and walk away.

Okay, I don't think I did anything wrong here. I was charming, attentive, and looked halfway-decent. (I was having a total Hermione Granger hair day, but otherwise? Not too shabby.)
He was clearly interested. I hate, hate, HATE it when they don't act. I know it's nerve-wracking--heaven only knows I've asked out my fair share of boys on dates. Was there anything I could have done/said differently? I'm so sick of the guys up here not having the guts to just ask girls out. COME ON!

For what it's worth, my date on Friday was fun. The zoo was closed early, so we played mini golf and raced go-karts. Let the record show I kicked some serious trash at go-karts. No sparks, but there was much quoting of The Office and an impromptu rendition of Bohemian Rhapsody on the green.