Friday, November 23, 2012

and be with him

ph: cassoday harder

My name’s Fanny, I’m a 27-year-old editor and I live in Northern Europe with the cutest, kindest and most faithful boyfriend a girl could dream about. We both seem happy with a dream job. I could easily spend my whole life with him. But in spite of the love I have for him, most of the time I feel like I’m living a live which isn’t mine.

A few months ago, I received a very cute Facebook request from a guy I met in Southern Europe during my year and a half international student exchange. Then my whole world fell apart. Accepting his friend request was the biggest fear and the highest joy of my life. Then I remembered.

Five years ago, I was a barmaid in a crowded bar when he entered the place with a friend we had in common. He instantly drew my attention, a rebel constantly dressed in black with Joy Division and Pixies tees. We started talking and I knew right away we had a lot in common. I felt he was the only passionate one I could trust and who could truly look into my eyes. I was listening to all kinds of anecdotes he could tell, being careful enough for him not to realize I was actually falling for him. It may sound crazy when you think about it, but I felt we “knew” each other already. At that time I was the only blond specimen among dark-haired local people; I was exotic. I could probably have had a chance with lots of people but, don’t ask me why, I never even dared to ask him out. “Guys like him never stand by themselves”, I thought. Mistake of the century.

Months passed. July came and I soon had to pack my bags and go back home. I planned a last night out to kiss everyone goodbye and there he was, in the middle of the crowd, unaware that I was actually going away until I told him. “This is my very last night here. I’m catching a plane tomorrow and I’ll probably never come back”. His face changed. He swallowed. “Then”, he said, “We absolutely have to go out together”. So we went out. We talked a lot, about books, movies and music, and modern romanticism, and his dream to be a librarian some day, and maybe write a book… A silent seduction insinuated itself and even now I swear I have never felt so close to anybody else. We spent breathtaking moments. He spent the night sharing his secrets with me and at dawn he tried to kiss me. I had waited for this moment for months and it was finally happening. And I turned my head away. Not because I didn’t want to, but because I didn’t want to suffer anymore. I was already thinking about the plane I had to catch the day after and I couldn’t stand the idea. He said he was sorry if he was pushing me, that it wasn’t his intention at all… God, if only he knew. If only he knew! Later I said I had to go to the bathroom. Truth is, I went there crying and I didn’t want him to notice. An hour later I found a pretext to lose him in the crowd and I was gone before he even realized. I had never felt like this before. I had spent pointless years waiting for true love and when it finally came to me, I had to let it go and there was nothing I can do. When I found a slight bit of passion I was catching a plane the next day and I now live in a state of permanent suspended chemistry.

When he found me again a few months ago we started talking and it was just as if our conversation never ended. So now I’m wondering, what am I going to do? He has no idea of what he provoked even if he remembers my last night just the way I describe it. We live 2500 miles apart but every day when I awake I just want to catch a plane and be with him. Some time ago I told him I was writing a book and he has no idea that he inspired me a lot to write about the male protagonist. I wonder what he would think about all this.

He’s passionate enough to wander through the net and catch this blog so, who knows?

I love you, bookworm.
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