I must apologize for not walking up a few rows, taking your hand, and whispering just how pretty you looked in the afternoon sunlight.
You see, I must explain my appalling lack of confidence. I'm a large man. Too large. And so, in the sultry heat of our afternoon, I was not smelling sweet, though you were looking sweet.
But, when I would occasionally stand up, and turn toward the scoreboard to find knowledge of other sporting events, I began to notice that someone was paying some attention to me. And I was quietly grateful.
You, and perhaps a nearby friend, who were approximately in the 20th row of the south end zone, in section 115, began to wave at me. While I have a certain charisma, I am not a beautiful man. And so, I began to check around, to see who you were waving at. Surely, it was some handsome devil, seated in a row beyond me, that you were interested in.
So, I acted cool. Too cool, really. I looked behind me, saw no one standing or waving back to you. I shrugged off this situation. I was at a football game, with 70,000 people in attendance. Surely, a pretty lady would not care about me.
And as I looked back up in your direction, you provided a signal. You made a motion to your face. You outlined, near you lips, an imaginary mustache. A mustache similar to the one that I wear.
It was at that point, that I should have allowed the elation that I felt carry me up to you. I should have walked up the 10 or 15 rows. I should have introduced myself. I should have made the passes at you that our quarterback was, at that moment, showing he could not make. I should have opened my heart like a gifted Hawkeye offensive lineman opens the defense. I should have acted with the steadfast confidence shown by one Mark Weisman, even if I should be tackled for a loss by your charms and the possibility of me stumbling over my own words. I should have offered to take you to a fine dinner after the game, as Ryan's in Cedar Rapids would be serving fine roasts and sumptuous desserts that very night.
But, no. I sat down. I wondered "was she really waving at me?" I watched the dance team, but they paled in comparison to you. I watched the football game, but it did not provide a feeling of happiness as your attention did.
And so, please know, that I will always remember today. I will not act creepy. I will not bother you. I will, with a quiet and dignified happiness, recall the afternoon at Kinnick, and the brown-haired woman who waved at me.