If someone almost looks at me, do I exist?

I’ll never forget that day in philosophy class. Freshman year. We were in one of those big stadium-style auditoriums, studying Descartes. I was already seated when he walked in, and plopped his stuff in a seat one row in front of me.

 I’d noticed this boy in the cafeteria a few days earlier. He was tall, curly-headed and prone to wearing ill-fitting pants. He had scribbled “Black Flag” on his red Chuck Taylors. I wanted to make him mine.

Well, about half-way through the lecture (something about whether human free will is compatible with diving omniscience), he turned around and looked at me. Oh, I was so excited. He did it again a few minutes later, too. And again and again. Surely his neck must be stiff from all that looky-loo, I thought by the end of class. I stood up to collect my things and, with my back to Mr. Hottie, smoothed my hair just a bit.

“Hey. What’s going on?” I heard his deep, throaty voice say.

 I spun around (trust me, it was sexy) to catch his eye.  But he was looking a few rows past me - at the tall blonde in the micro mini and paisley halter. Ah. She was the reason for his stiff … neck.

What’s the proper etiquette for those cases of mistaken identity? Is it OK to bust out crying right on the spot? Or do you need to wait until you get home before losing it?