The Art of Saying Hello

On my 29 birthday I reluctantly found myself in Bloomington. Initially, my original plan was simple: It was Saturday, I would wake up late in the afternoon, make a pot of coffee and read until I fell asleep. Thanks to social media my plans were foiled when my roommate, Richard Thomas, discovered it was my birthday. The conversation that followed went something like this:

"We're going out," said Richard glaring over the rim of my book.

"No, I'm fine."

"It's your birthday."

"I know, but I'm reading."

"You can do the morose-artist thing any day of the week. It's your birthday and it is the last one of your twenties so its worth celebrating."

"...can I take a nap first?"

"Get up."

We arrived in Bloomington early in the evening and we met up with another friend at the first bar. After an hour the atmosphere grew stale and we had a serious discussion about our next destination. We decided on a small bar, located in the basement of an alley in downtown Bloomington.

Upon entering the bar, the building is laid out in two tiers: on the bottom level, a dance floor is located to the left of the bar, and on the upper level is a lounge area. This is when I saw her. She sat alone with her purse next to her while staring distantly towards the dance floor. Her long black hair covered her right eye and her pale features were offset by her red lipstick. Distractedly, she swirled the tumbler in her left hand and weighed the decision whether or not to take another drink.

My friend Sam offered to buy my first round, and I met Richard on the second level. He saw me glance over to the woman and said, "Talk to her."

Talking to strangers has never been an act I have been able to master, in fact in my youth I was greatly discouraged from having any contact with people I didn't know, even if they offered me candy. Truthfully I am an introvert in remission.

When I was in college the first day of class was my least favorite day, because the professor would read the class roster aloud. I hated it for two reasons: 1) no matter how earnestly they tried, the professor would always butcher my name; 2) I would have to correct the pronunciation aloud. As a student, there was no greater source of stress than talking out-loud in class, not because my opinions were invalid, but I was always a better listener than a public speaker (apparently my father neglected to pass me that gene).

Subsequently, while in college, I was assigned to complete the Myers--Briggs Type Indicator, which is a questionnaire designed to asses how you perceive the world. After taking the test one can fall under the 16 different personality types. I happened to fall under the rarest type: INTJ, which stands for Introverted, iNtuitive, Thinking and Judging. This personality type is known "The Architect" or "Mastermind," and only one percent of the population falls under this category. I later found out many of the people I have admired fall under this personality such as Sir Isaac Newton, Nikola Tesla, Jean-Paul Sartre and Isaac Asimov.

This test does not indicate success or dictate one's future, but it is a interesting look into one's personality. According to keirsey.com, "Masterminds are introspective, logical, rational, pragmatic, clear-headed, directive, and attentive. Decisions come easily to them; in fact, they can hardly rest until they have things settled and decided. But before they decide anything, they must do the research."

As I walked over to her my thoughts gained speed with each step. What was I going to say? Does she have a boyfriend or is she married? Is there a ring on her left hand? Maybe she is alone for a reason?

Approaching someone you are attracted to is never easy, because there is a chance it might not go your way. Nobody likes rejection. If someone says they don't mind being rejected they are either lying or arrogant.

I took the seat next to her, yet she kept her gaze forward. With an exhale I said the first thing that came to my head, "You seem very interested in what's going on in the dance floor."

With a grin she turned to me, beginning a conversation lasting for many hours.

Over the course of the evening we continued to talk and eventually we left my friends behind and went to another bar with a dance floor. After much pleading from her, I found myself dancing which is something I hope most people do not have to witness, because what I do is not dancing -- a better description would be walking in place to a beat. Later she assured me I danced well, but I am still reluctant to believe her.

As the night ended, we said our goodbyes and I was left alone walking the streets of Bloomington as the birds chirped mockingly from the trees. The morning air was cool and the ground was covered with a spring frost, but still my thoughts remained centered on her. As I found my car, I sat in the driver's seat, and then an unsettling thought came to mind: I did not remember her name. She only said it once.

For months I have reconstructed that night and have outsourced my friends for help, but unfortunately her name has been lost. As the months after my birthday wore on, I often find myself thinking back to that night to the woman without a name.

Grant is a staff writer for the Greene County Daily World. He can be reached by telephone at (812) 847-4487, ext. 19. He can also be reached via email at gkarazsia@gmail.com.