I saw him on a crowded dance floor. Mel, that guy I met a few months ago but never truly connected with. I felt some panic, my heart started to race, but not from the beat of the music. It was fear. Fear of making the first move, fear of rejection, fear born from my own stubborn pride. Little did I know, overcoming this fear would lead to one of the most valuable friendships of my life.
This is a story of how I turned my pride into a lifelong connection.
Once upon a time, I visited Bangkok, the city of angels, filled with amazing street food and high-end buildings and restaurants. Since I learned dancing, I wasn’t going to miss what this city could offer.
I decided to go to the Thursday dancing scene. There, I saw and met many people, one of them a guy named Mel. He struck me as an enthusiastic, friendly, and curious person. There was one problem: in dancing, most people who become my friends are women, probably because those are the people I dance with often. And so I thought that was it.
Time flew by. After a few more months living in Phuket, I decided it was time for me to change my environment, and I went to Bangkok.
As weeks passed, I found myself repeatedly spotting Mel at various dance events. Each time, a familiar internal battle would begin. My heart would urge me to approach him, to rekindle the brief connection we’d made. But my pride would always hold me back.
“What if he doesn’t remember me?” it would whisper. “What if he’s not interested in being friends?”
One night, I thought, screw it. I only live once, and I’m done with any emotion that holds me back. My fear of rejection was overcome by my desire for connection.
I took a deep breath, went to say hello, and introduced myself again to him. As my first impression suggested, he was still that enthusiastic, friendly, and curious person. It turned out we work in the same field and decided to meet and work together in some cafes.
Since then, we’ve been meeting regularly, and I always appreciate his thoughtful comments. He’s always ready to help and answer my questions.
Now, whenever I feel hesitant about reaching out or trying something new, I remember that night in Bangkok. I remind myself that on the other side of discomfort often lies connection, growth, and unexpected adventures.
I couldn’t be happier. Thank you for opening yourself to me, Mel.
I appreciate you. Cheers!