Little Stories of Letting go

He is out on the town today. That “Love of my life/Best friend” person. He is out today with two beautiful women. He could have both, or either. For the first time, in 5 years, I’m his wingman. I hope he “scores.” It takes me back to a time when we were just friends; when I WAS his wingman. I am the best wingman.

I feel pangs of something- jealousy, may be sadness. But it’s faded, like an echo of something that once was.  But I find there is a smile on my face as I urge him “if you get a chance, take it!” I’m sad, but I realize I want this for him. I want him to try on someone new for a change, and see how it feels.

Is this what letting go feels like?

At any given moment, there are at least 2 people madly in love with him. The title “Romeo” suits him better than he may like to admit.  He doesn’t even try which makes him the envy of all men who slave away for some female attention. He can walk into a room and immediately at least 3 women want him. He may not try, but he knows the effect he has on these girls/women. He knows almost intuitively. It puts a smile on his face and a sparkle in his eye. (He will deny this till the end of time.) But I know he loves the attention.

What is it about him? If you ask him he’ll say, “Some people fall for my looks, but that never lasts.” “Some people fall for the person i am, not sure that lasts either.”

But i can tell you what it is. He has a way of making you feel special. He will make you laugh, and he will tell you you’re beautiful in such a nonchalant way that you can’t help but believe it. He notices things, and when he talking to you he isn’t distracted by anything around him. He listens, and there is an aura of freedom around him that makes you drop your guard and be you. That freedom is intoxicating. You start noticing how much you pretend with everyone, and how easy it is to be with him. He is friendly, fun and self-deprecating.

I fell for the person he is.

He is olive-skinned, and his big bright brown eyes are drown worthy. He has the physique of a Greek god, but he is on the shorter side. 5’8.  He has a keen eye for style, and he always smells good. None of these qualities were particularly convincing personally but he makes the funniest faces, and he sneezes in the funniest way(“HHUUUUUUCHASSSSS.”) He mis-pronounces words because of his crooked teeth. When you’re with him he will look out for you, he’ll catch you when you fall. He’ll hold your hair back when you get sick, he’ll carry you home and tuck you in. He won’t let you touch his feet because “it’s disrespectful to women.” He’ll stand up for your honour, and threaten homicide to anyone who hurts you.

What’s not to love? But he has some great stories…. (“Why me?” is what he would title them.)

One time a girl he was seeing told him she’s willing to do “anything, as long as I don’t get pregnant.”
One time he was almost a part of the sexiest threesome in the universe.
One time he was betrothed at the age of 16, to a girl of 13.
One time a girl ate his finger nail.
Yea… That. Shit. Cray.

In the meantime….

This morning a guy who looked like Lincoln Burrows (Prison Break) was totally checking me out. He waited outside the train and walked beside me- out the train station, into the subway. He didn’t say anything, just smiled whenever we made eye contact. I kept smiling, and smiling. I should have said Hi!, or said something. But I was shy and nervous; more importantly, underneath all my pride, self-confidence is a terrified little girl so I didn’t. May be next time…

Reminds me of the time in Sri Lanka (2008)…

It was close to 4am and the cutest guy in the club was dancing with me. He asked me for my number, but I just don’t feel comfortable giving my number to random guys I meet at a club.At his insistence I gave him half my number and told him if we meet again I’ll give him the rest. I never expected to meet him. But 3 months later, I bumped into him again, and we went on a date. I know that doesn’t sound like where “THE END” should be, but that’s what happened. I went on a date, he insisted he loved me, I told him BULLSHIT, and eventually when HE (the one I mention so often in these posts) broke up with the girl he was with, “Club guy” faded into nothingness.

Anyway, if I see Lincoln (can’t think of a better name for “Train guy”) again, we will have something akin to history that could lead to a conversation. (“Hey! You again!” or “Hi, guess we’re on the same train again” or “Hahaha want my number?”)

It could turn out to be one of those love stories; I caught the 830am train instead of my usual 730am and bumped into Lincoln. Weeks, Months go by and I stick to my early routine, until one day I overslept, or I had an appointment which led me to the 830am train and there he is- Lincoln– waiting to see me again.  Hahaha I’m such a girl!!!!

Back to the beginning

I will find out soon enough how his night ended.
He’ll talk about his night, I’ll talk about my day.
When he’s waking up to start a new day, I’ll be going to sleep on this one.
May be this is when the clock turns back on us to that place we were before we fell into each other.

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