The night after our first lunch together I wrote to a close friend.
I had been in a happy period for over a year. Blissful in the freedom I had, living my life without the complications and inherent disappointments of a serious relationship. I wasn't a playboy, I wasn't a conqueror. I was simply enjoying an unfettered life amongst my friends on my own terms. I was beholden to no one and felt none of the frustration those situations always seemed to bring.
The fleeting attentions of women came and went, but I was careful to keep everything in my life light, playful and pleasant. I had made a conscious decision to not pursue anyone, I had learned that the energy spent on said exploits gained only a hollow reward. I would instead sit calmly, letting my life flow over me and for once just be. Whatever was happening was as it should be, there was no need to try and affect it.
I knew half way through our first conversation that was all about to change. I couldn't know where it would lead, but I knew for certain that I would no longer be standing idly by, that I was about to be inspired. Someone rare and exquisite had crossed my path and that couldn't be ignored.
I wrote:
"And then today happened. And I sat across from this beautiful creature, astounded that anyone could be so beautiful... and I listened to her words, her thoughts, her sarcastic playfulness, her french accent, her life growing up in Paris, her full lips, her current pursuit of a PhD, her brown eyes, the four languages she speaks, her long black hair, her political views, her French/Moroccan features, her experiences in the world where I've never been, the wonderful curves of her voluptuous body, her laughter at my jokes and my laughter at hers...
...and all I could think was 'This is actually the exact type of person I've been looking for. I am so fucked.' "
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