"Have fun in the city. I’ll see you.”
Said the man who’s been my lover before he walked out of my sight into the train station. It was my last night in the city I was happy to leave; it was our last kiss, our last lovelorn looks. I held him so tightly without saying a word but I think he might have heard it. My heart, I think it was beating too loud for my own good that night.
We gave each other a smile and that was it.
Because, you know, we’re mature, realistic people.
I remember this one night when I was sitting in his living room, tracing my eyes on him as if I had a pencil and he was my subject. He sits there in his underwear, with his guitar, singing a song about an old love who couldn’t keep him for long. Some people would see a red flag; all I saw was an inclination that I would continue to desire him.
I guess that’s me. The more tragic the better.
I wonder if it was just good chemistry; I wonder what would have happened if I hadn’t left; I wonder if what we had was tangible, accountable, even. I wonder why I’m still wondering. I wonder if he wonders....
In the end, I’m a sensible, practical kind of girl. So I continue to be just as quiet when I’m away from him as I was when I first met him.
Of course I have fantasies of my romantic notions working out in my favor.
I wish my love life would be like a Wong Kar Wai movie; so romantic and sensual that everything has to move in slow motion, filled with pretty colors and even prettier things being said. Instead I find myself being eternally stuck in a Woody Allen movie; jokes so cruel you don’t know whether to laugh or to cry, filled with miseries and cynicism and of course, it all ends way too quickly.
However, I do get the feeling my luck might be changing...
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