You would be perfect.
You come out of no where on a Friday night and sweep me up in sarcastic and easy conversation… You would. Tall enough that even in heels you would have to lean in to kiss me, dressed in a suit laughing about the longest week of work, a lawyer, no free time.
I would meet you dressed in a baggy t-shirt, drinking beer with the guys, hair crazy curly. I am sure I looked like an interesting piece of work, far from looking like a lady that would catch your eye, but somehow I did for the night.
The goodbye was awkward, your friend trying to leave and yelling at you about love at first sight and trying to get you to go already. An exchange of numbers that would make me smack myself later… I am terrible at flirting when I actually want to flirt. I said you were “kind of cute I guess” … dear Lord… What is wrong with me? But you gave a chance to make up for it by a kiss on the cheek. Then you actually kissed me…
I walked to my truck elated. This is not an emotion I feel often, I am ornery and skeptical. You got me Sir, you made me feel like a giddy little girl again. Thank you for that.
But then of course, as it would be in the luck of the love stories in my life. You would never call. And that’s o.k. I just wanted to thank you for helping me to feel something again, to get excited for a minute, even though you would be too good to be true, you were good for me in that moment.