One Conversation At A Time

I made one decision that day that may have changed the course of our story. I’m not sure I had let it begun because it felt like we were living our lives in a prequel. And somehow, you’re an important chapter.

I made the decision to stay home that day. I had been surrounded by people constantly for months, I’d forgotten who I was. And I chose the one day where you asked me out on a date to stay at home and have my “Me Time”. You would leave the country the next week and I’d go on with my life.

But, you texted me a week later and all I saw in that text was my name.

Meera. I was on a date with someone else that day but I kept thinking about what you wanted to say. There was a never a second date with that guy but I decided to text you instead. You were on a flight back home and told me how you would’ve loved to have had that conversation with me.

I liked that about you. You didn’t flirt. You weren’t even trying and I loved your mind. You were the first guy out of far too many that was here for a conversation. Maybe more than that. But, I was still up till three in the morning because I liked the sound of your voice.

This is precisely the kind of bullshit that millennial’s romanticize. It’s almost like our last few brain cells go to die the minute we share a connection. I was slowly becoming one of those people I judged. Reckless. Irrational. And possibly delusional.

We were both a little broken. We had that in common. I could tell she had broken you a little more than he had with me. Not that you can compare pain but you seemed like someone who wanted the next time to be the last time. I don’t anyone else who thinks that way, and maybe because I stopped thinking that way when he left. You were here, restoring my faith and I hadn’t even met you.

I live with three strangers and somehow we don’t share anything but a room and a hall and a kitchen. You and I were sharing our days. I liked knowing how much the snow messed up your car and your love for shaded parking. The more we talked, the more I saw you. Tall, nerdy, the perfect round glasses and an adorable smile. But kind, more than all those things. You were trying to make something out of yourself just like I was seven oceans away.

“God, I have never wanted to have one extra day with someone so bad”, I blurt out, completely blunt.

The first time we talked you told me how it was probably a good thing we never met. You were right, we would’ve slept together and pretended it never happened after you’d inevitably leave. Instead, you were asking me about a meeting I was stressed about. I don’t think any of my friends even know what I do at work but you knew this mattered. Maybe I’d thought enough of you in the small time we’d known each other to tell you about it.

“Someone was far too busy to let me buy them coffee”, you teased.

I was a hypocrite. There were men I’d turned down because I told myself I didn’t have the time to invest. I was a liar. I just didn’t have the intention. And they weren’t you.

“If it’s any consolation, I wasn’t having the best week and I would’ve projected that onto you and then you would’ve hated me and we wouldn’t be talking as much”.

“Maybe when we meet it will be special”.

I can hear you smile. You’d talk to me on your drive back home and you’d be the last person I’d talk to before I went to sleep.

“Maybe you’re worth the wait”.

And just like that, I was screwed.