It’s four months after the shittest break-up I’ve ever had and, true to my style and my libra rising, I’m terrified that I’ll never fall in love again. That the relationship that has just ended was the exception to the rule and that the feeling of butterflies in my stomach (I know, gross, just haven’t found a better metaphor) is a thing of the past.
It doesn’t help that I’ve gone on dates in the last couple of months that were fine. Not great, not horrible. Fine. Yes: an ok date is the worst case scenario for someone who lives in absolute terms like me. Just give me a horror date for the sake of the story or give me that all-consuming-cannot-think-about-anything-else-but-you type of infatuation.
Anyway, I digress, but that’s my context: a disenchanted, heartbroken me in a different country. I’m 15,000 km away from a house I’d do anything to not get back to. A new hotel room similar to the many others I’ve been in, except this one has a beautiful view. I feel empty but in a good way – empty means full of possibility.
I almost cancel on you last minute. Part of it is the usual fear of rejection but, if I’m perfectly honest, I think I’m just terrified that this will also be a mediocre date and then what? But the friend I’m hanging out with convinces me that I have absolutely nothing to lose and just like that I blink, and I find myself waiting for you outside the bar. Five minutes where I feel like a nervous teenager. How can I be so brave in so many aspects of my life yet feel like such a coward in others?
You arrive and we go inside the bar and I realise I like you straight away because I make an effort to sit next to you in way that you look at my good side (my left side, obviously). You’re just utterly fascinating – the way you speak, your demeanour, everything about you is interesting and I feel like we’ve known each other since forever. And maybe we have. Who knows?
We move from one bar to the next one, then a restaurant, then a wine bar. I don’t want this night to end unless it’s with me in your bed. “I want to take you home” you say, and I secretly pray that you mean your home. And you do.
We talk, we kiss, we fuck, over and over. You make me feel a way I haven’t in so long and the realisation that I can still feel this way makes this extra sweet.
The next day as we get dressed you take my glasses and clean them for me, and I melt. If there was a way to freeze a moment in time to come back to it again and again, this would be one of my top choices.
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