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by d a m n a t i o n shag_chic@hotmail.com The room parted as she came through the crowd. Tall and imposing, she held herself with such a confident air that everyone just had to stop what they were doing to look at her -- as did I. I think my heart stopped beating when our eyes connected for a split second as she scanned the crowd disinterestedly. Right then I knew -- at least right after my brain stopped freezing, my heart started pounding again and my blood rushing down to one specific place on my body -- that she is the one. Now hold right there for a second. That scene seemed to be lifted out of a romance book we have all read one time or other. As much as I'd like to say 'yup, that was exactly what happened' on the night I met her, both you and I know that it's probably just my hopeless romanticism playing tricks with my memory and your head. We did meet in a pub. It was a Wednesday night and an internet friend had finally managed to coerce me to meet up with her. Talk was sparse after the initial introductions and "how do you do's" and I waited for the night to sink into another one of those I would chuck aside as one that wasn't worth remembering. Then, out of nowhere, someone approached my internet pal whom I was certain I would never meet again--at least not intentionally--and unceremoniusly seated herself in one of the empty chairs opposite me. She wasn't tall; in fact, she was an inch or two shorter than I was(and I wasn't the world's tallest chick). She wasn't imposing either; but the black coat that she had on surprisingly made her stand out from the crowd that agreed on the same, flamboyant, colorful dress code. Straight, brown hair fell nicely past her shoulders, framing her almond shaped face and disinterested brown eyes. No, she did not have the words "I'm the one" blinking around her in neon lights, but she sure got my attention. And that was a brief synopsis on how we met. We got on better than I did with my internet pal, and by the end of the night, I went home with her number in my mobile; a number I never expected to dial. Weeks later, she rang. The minor fact that she could not even remember my name did not matter. To say that I was hoping for her call every passing day after our first meeting would be a lie. In fact, I had already chucked her into the 'never gonna call, got my number to be polite' category. We met up for coffee and joined my friends at a pub at four in the afternoon. She played a mean game of pool and conveniently skipped her classes to stay out with us till nine. It was nice being around her. If I were single and available, I had revealed to my friend, she would have been the kind of girl I would have gone for. But I wasn't single or available, so I was satisfied with just being her friend. We started hanging out every weekend and, slowly, I wanted to call her even before the weekend started. Then, I had dismissed it as just me enjoying her friendship. Upon hindsight, I was falling for her; ever so subtly, but falling all the same. Every time we met brought us closer. She seemed comfortable enough to tell me things about her family, and the trouble she was having with getting over her ex. She was definitely comfortable enough to flirt with me. Don't misunderstand; I didn't mind the flirting. How could I, since it is my favourite sport? It is harmless and a much more healthy way of getting past the confusing feelings that were starting to grow within me. It was right about that time that I had a dream about her. No, not a wet dream, mind you, just a dream. If you must know, I kissed her cheek. But that was all. Did I tell you that I'm a dreamer on top of being a hopeless romantic? Oh boy, you've never met a dreamer till you met me. And dreams, as they do for dreamers, played a huge part in my life. I believe that I don't dream about things for no reason. That is not always a good thing. Sometimes my dreams instigate me to do things I never would have done otherwise; sometimes they are the reason why I start feeling for someone else. And so the falling continued, blind as I was to it. Finally, one night, after many beers and tequila shots, our hands seemed to find each other's. She told me that she really liked me, to which I smiled--heart pounding furiously in anticipation but trying to maintain a cool composure on the outside. What could I do? I knew that the feelings were mutual--that is, if it wasn't the alcohol talking for her--but I was otherwise committed and, even though I am a self-admitted flirt, I would have never cheated on anyone. The friend who was with us that night chose that moment to fall off her stool in her drunken stupor, breaking the intensity of the mood. She just wanted to spit, she wailed out rather despondently as a few strangers and I attempted to help her up from the ground that she had so recently made acquaintance with. One of the helpers stayed around and chatted with us. After making sure that my friend was alright, she turned to me and asked if I would like to go for lunch with her one day. One of my more 'endearing' traits was my friendliness; I agreed. She proceeded to ask if I was single. The only person that I really cared about in the entire pub--save for my drunk friend(and I only cared about her because I had to make sure she got home in one piece)--turned to look at me when I answered, 'No.' She leaned over and whispered, 'And that's where I draw the line.' I was pretty sure the look I gave her was quizzical; was she really interested in me? The girl who helped my friend was forgotten; all I saw was her, all I cared about was what she just said. Her hand was still in mine, the side of her body still pressed against me. Did she expect an answer? Till today, I don't know. We went over to her place. My friend took one look at the bed and fell into it, snoring rather loudly. We ignored her as much as we could, occasionally snickering at the loud noises emanating from her, and talked till dawn. That was the closest we had ever been and, sadly, will ever be. The way she fitted against me, in my arms, was perfect. It was almost as if she was made to fill up all the nooks and crannies of my body. All I could hear was the irregular heartbeat of someone, and I chanced upon attributing it to her; something that she did not deny. What was that? Lust? Love? Attraction? I did not know. All I knew was that I wanted it. Craved for it. With every fibre of my being. Two days later I broke up with my then girlfriend. But it was two days too late. She decided to draw away after all. I never told her what I did, and till today, I don't think she knew. That she was who I wanted to be with. That I wasn't playing her for a fool. That maybe she is the one. But if that's true, then I'm destined to be alone for the rest of my life. For I'm sure that I've truly lost her. |