Again and Again Please

I think I am already in love but I am blind to it. I think I have been hurt and dissapointed by love so often that I am sceptical even when loves tingle is felt rippling through me. Where ever love touches – it burns. The pain is adictive and each time I think I might not make it through but here I go again. It makes me laugh to think how eager mouths search out eager tongues, how our fingers grapple in the dark to hold onto to something, onto anything and honestly the only thing that makes sense when loves clouds your brain. In that moment I feel myself forgetting about being a mother, a sister, an independent thinker, a home owner, a regular rounder, a greek twister – a normal brown girl just going about her business. The business of being a being.

It happened a few Saturdays ago. I dont even remember. I had just come back from the race track (my first ever trip there). Wow…but that story is for another time.

I sat with three other friends – I was the fourth wheel, one of those stories where two people love one person and the three of them, tangled up like that, is just way too boring to observe for someone like me. Especially since I know how its going to end. Girl will stick with boy and leave other girl in Lesbo agony! They are there in that space and they are burning. I twiddled my thumbs and counted the calories on my plate. As if knowing how many I am going to consume is going to make any bloody difference! Then from accross the room – sitting with a bunch of guy friends I saw a light. I looked, then looked away. The light I saw came from his eyes.

He was looking too, pointing me out – I pretended not to see. Thats when I felt the first burn, it lit up my cheeks. I looked down. My eyes hidden behind a thick fringe. Could it be? I wrote many months ago of a secret conversation of my heart, it promised me that i would meet love, it whispered remember. It said that both our hearts will jump out to meet the other. Both of us will know, instantly. We will get it. Could this be it?

I looked up again and yes – he was staring at me. He edged off his seat and I nodded an acknowledgement. He was about to come over and I nodded my head in the direction of the bar. He got it, my heart started thumping. Thump thump. I looked at my fellow table mates and realised that over there, in those eyes, I could potentially have my own kind of fun. I went to the toilet and walked right past him, my legs were brown and golden – I had crisped them for just such an occasion. My denim mini and crisp white shirt gave me confidence and the strut was unmistakable. The dance had begun, it took another few minutes for us to, with no words, meet up at the bar at exactly the same time. We drank tequila. Abandoning our collective friends we spent the rest of the afternoon and early eveing together and danced and felt and moved. His name is M. There is a twist. I want to spend the rest of the day figuring this out.

We have seen each other every second day since. It would have been every single day but I am stopping myself. I am edging towards an abyss, i am right now longing for his kiss.

Here I go again. Being Loves Fool.