‘How do you know he’s interested?’ Flatmate says.
Don’t like the question.
‘Errr… he – he asked me to dance?’ I say.
It was the way he did it.
‘And he messaged me on Facebook, and…’
And then I invited him to something, and he kept the conversation going over text…
‘… he texts me…’
And then I might’ve suggested meeting up, though only because he said to let him know if I was working near his offices, and so we went for coffee…
‘… and we had coffee?’ I wind up.
I guess he could just be being friendly.
‘Right. How do you know he isn’t just being friendly?’
‘Because… I don’t.’
‘OK, so your expectations are the reason you get hurt and stressed about these things. You have to have no expectations.’
‘I know,’ I say. ‘I know!’
I do – sort of.
Flatmate goes on:
‘Until you’ve been seeing a guy regularly for at least two months, he’s just playing with you.’
I cross my arms and scowl.
‘He’s not allowed to play with me.’
Get out of the sandpit.