I would ask the Oracle, if she lived:
Should I, shouldn't I, what does it mean, what do I feel, what does she want, what do I want from her, what chance would we have if we both did say yes?
To Apollon. Blest Paean, come, propitious to my prayer, illustrious power, thy piercing sight extends beneath the gloomy, silent night. 'Tis thine all nature's music to inspire with harmonious lyre: now the last string thou tunest to sweet accord, divinely warbling, now the highest chord; the immortal golden lyre, now touched by thee, responsive yields a Dorian melody.
Dionysus god of wine, respect us!