He walked into the room and I just knew I needed to get close to him. I wanted just to be near him, to lean towards him, inhale his scent, maybe even to touch him. My heart rate increased, my breathing became shallow and I started to feel giddy. I’d never seen him before and chances were good I’d never see him again, but I was going to do whatever I could to get close, even if only for a short time.
I managed to get a few words out, start a bit of a conversation, but I was frequently distracted by the way he licked his lips as he deliberately chose particular words to express some concept – and yes, this was also attractive to me. I’m a big fan of specificity of language, and am often put off by the way people lazily sling around words like “cool” and “awesome” as if they are deep and meaningful, even though the person has said it a dozen times in one, long, run on sentence.
I was entranced by the way he moved his hands, too, and kept watching them as we talked into the night. It wasn’t that he moved them in any particularly dramatic way, but they drew my eyes, just the same. I found myself studying them even when they rested in his lap, thinking of tracing the veins with my fingers.
Meanwhile, we talked into the night. I was exhausted but could not bring myself to end the conversation. We talked about the mundane and moved on to things I knew nothing about. which was also intriguing. I love hearing about and discussing new ideas, learning about things I know nothing about, and listening to people talk about things that drive them, things that they are passionate about.
I let the feeling carry me forward, let myself enjoy the desire, the uncertainty and even the tension. It was a good night.