I didn’t know EP would be there. I knew of him because he is an integral part of our community. We live in different countries but I had once been in the same room as him before when I attended a 3-night event he put on. I remembered him differently. Not one to truly catch my eye.
As soon as I met up with my group of friends Thursday night, he was there. We shook hands and I blushed. He had black, wavy close-cropped hair and piercing ocean-colored eyes. He was fit and looked like he worked out, unlike a lot of his peers in his age range.
Over that night I could feel his gaze on me. I returned it. The next day we all met up again and I loved listening to him speak. He had an unusual accent and he spoke slowly. I savored every word.
I felt his attraction to me and I hope he felt mine. The second night he noted my dress and pointed out how I stood out and he appreciated the effort I made amongst a bunch of sometimes average, sometimes grubby kids. Another time he commented on how sweaty he was (it was sizzling hot over those four days; and the venues provided very little respite). I told him we were all sweaty and probably a bit stinky. He said he bet I wasn’t.
He backed off a little bit when my partner joined us halfway through the weekend. I wonder if EP thought differently of me when he thought I may have been single. I’m sure he did. It’s always heartbreaking when you see someone look at you differently, interact with you differently. I want to say: please don’t stop.
The last night he said something to me that took me aback. It was true, but it was not something I say of myself, something I believe in, nor something I ever say out loud. I downed two drinks quickly after that. A flush flowed over me the rest of the evening and when we said goodbye he kissed me on the cheek and gave me an all-enveloping full-body hug. We fit like puzzle pieces. I did not want to let go.
A dry spring it’s been but come June and the heat is on. I go away for a long weekend and meet a cadre of gorgeous people, many of whom I want to devour. I will detail each of them over a few posts.
PF is a gorgeous singer-songwriter who is always writing or recording a song or collaborating on some musical project. His talent is endless. But he is no stereotypical slacker musician, working nights at the local diner. Oh no. He is a professor. A professor of literature! A true academic and only in his mid-30s. And he is a carrier of the accent I have swooned over for half my life.
He is a rare bird, PF. Outgoing, affable, prodigiously talented, relatively young, stable, humble, and kind. I saw him about for four days. The first night I saw him perform my heart beat fast for him. He moved amongst my friends and acquaintances over the next few days but I just did not know what to say to him. He has big beautiful eyes. He is really quite tall. I smiled shyly as I passed him a number of times.
The last night, the night of tears and hugs and goodbyes, I finally got my chance. He’d ingested a number of drinks and was talking animatedly from early in the evening. Later on, he was talking with some new friends of mine and I sidled over. The conversation he was having with a male fan is too complicated - though hilarious - to explain here. I got in at some point. I was across from him. And then I moved beside him.
He looked at me with the kindest, most soulful eyes. His head sort of dipped down and his chest and shoulders turned completely towards me as I told him that I really liked his latest single (and I do!). I am trying desperately not to forget the way he looked at me. If ever a camera were needed to capture a moment it was then. It was with such warmth how he looked at me. I wanted to take his face in my hands and kiss his smooth forehead.
I returned his gaze and had a short, but heart-pounding conversation with him. The exchange was even, and the interest was mutual. I could have stayed there with him all night, maybe leaving hand in hand and wandering the sticky summer streets together. If I was free, I would have. He is free and in the days after our meeting he has emailed me many clever words that make my heart race. It is probably unhealthy to get my hopes up at all.
