Guest Post: Serendipity
My laptop has been on vacation since the other day and as such I’ve been struggling to keep the site up to date. But in an effort to keep my loyal readers interested, I have another guest post for you guys but this one is different. This one speaks of love and also of the turmoil one might go through. It’s a beautiful story written by a friend of mine. I hope you enjoy it on this rainy Sunday afternoon.
I remember when you first kissed me.
It was a cold night, almost 6 months ago, and we were in a parking lot surrounded by the neon lights of the Publix , the Pet Supermarket and whatever other store and/or restaurant was nearby in the middle of this immaculate suburbia.
We were sitting, laughing in your car at the ridiculousness of it all. Of me being there, with you, alone, for no good reason other than curiosity. Curiosity brought on by a chance encounter two nights before at some dirty bar on Miami Beach.
“oh my god! How have you been?!” we both asked in unison that night. We never really knew each other when we knew each other, so really, what else was there to ask?
We small talked, we smiled, we took a picture for my album and went our separate ways. You reached out via Facebook the very next day, and like some cliché modern day romance, we flirted over messages and stupid movies. I remember telling you it was serendipitous; our chance encounter on Saturday night. I actually used the word “serendipitous”; god, I am such a girl.
But you liked it.
“Come up” you had said, on Monday. “Come have a drink with me. We can catch up about what we’ve been doing this past year”. I mulled it over and said no, begged it off to you because of the weather, because of the drive, and to myself, because of your situation. But you came back with answers – you have a heater in your car Jones, it’s only a 30-minute drive, it’s just a drink. And me, the believer in serendipity, said yes, when I should have probably said no.
I strode through the restaurant’s doors and there you were, as promised, at the bar, sipping on something and looking adorably scruffy. I could have turned around and walked out, chastising myself the whole way home for being there and you would have never known. And you certainly would have never known the full on conversation I was having with myself at that moment.
Self: You have no right being here. What are you doing here? With him?! HIM! the recently divorced, father of two, an older man, the object of many a woman, and man’s, affection in the office. What would your work mother say? What would your real mother say? What would the office say? You know it’s high school there! Run! Don’t walk! I’ll drive!
Me: Self, shut up. It’s just a drink.
I squared my shoulders and sat down on the bar stool beside you. We drank a little, laughed a lot and told stories, calling each other names like we were on a playground somewhere – the bartender must have been rolling her eyes at us. We never really spoke about what either of us had been up to this past year because we were too busy caught up in the delicate dance of hunter and hunted and honestly, I’m not sure who was playing which part.
Later came around and neither of us wanted me to go back home just yet, well, because the night was cold, the drive was long and I’ve been drinking. And hello! what about serendipity?
So there we were, sitting in your car, still laughing, enjoying the little awkward moments between us and wondering what to do next.
I saw you make small movements in your seat to angle yourself closer to me with each question asked.
“Wanna get something to eat?” you asked, shifting in your seat.
I want you to kiss me is what I thought.
“Nope” is what I said.
“What would you like to do?” you questioned, leaning closer.
Kiss me, I dare you.
Don’t be a chicken shit. Kiss me. I need a good story for my best friend stuck at home with the baby.
“I have no idea. What do people in Weston do on a Monday night?” I asked, teasingly.
And then you reached out and put my face in your hands and I hesitated. I think I giggled. No, I’m pretty sure I giggled. For all my bravado I was wracked with nerves and my heart was barely contained in its cubby…
And then, you kissed me, a little nervously which surprised me, but it was perfect. Soft, sweet, exploratory…the kind of kiss they write songs about. The kind of kiss that allows the hearts of hopeless romantics, like mine, to feel again, after someone else had been careless with them. I opened myself up to you, right there in the passenger seat of your car.
“Want to go back to my place and watch a movie?” you finally suggested.
“Yes”, I replied, “I would love that.” Somebody should have stopped me.
Almost 6 months later, you sometimes give me Sunday mornings on a Friday and we laugh together and we play and when you put your head on my shoulder when you’re feeling defeated, it makes me feel like you need only me.
After almost 6 months, two break ups followed by two reconciliations poorly constructed out of a yearning for comfort, familiarity and, yes, a little loneliness, and at least three, “it’s not going any further than this” talks with a man who is committed to not committing now or later, I fell in love anyway.
Almost 6 months later and you haven’t kissed me, like the first time you kissed me, since the first time you kissed me and I hate you for it, but I understand why you don’t do it.
So understand for a moment when I say, fuck serendipity, but always welcome it into my life.
Faith & Love,
(Leave a comment have you ever been here? How did you deal with it? How did it work out in the end?)