Wednesday, August 18, 2010

“It’s a nice night for a walk”

{This was my original post on Lust for the Momalom's Five-for-Ten series. I chickened out at the last minute when I saw that most of the entries were NOT of the kind related to the loins. And since this is a week of truths for me, I've decided to unearth this. It's really not that R-rated. It's hardly G. But I'm still a little shy about it. However, this is a special day. And one I've saved this for, so here it is.}

It’s lust. Yes. Not at first sight. But lust nonetheless. Yet, I was in denial. It couldn’t be. I was turning 30. For a twenty-something-year-old, that was huge. I was moving on to the next decade of my life and there came this boy, still in college, all smart and full of life. And totally hot. Yes that’s it. My near-mid-life crisis. A crush on a mere boy can only be explained by my own insecurities about my life and certainly my age.

In the office, people noticed his talent, ideas and energy. I also saw and admired his passion as he spoke about the things that mattered to him. It wasn’t until later that his beautiful hazel eyes caught my attention. It happened when we were thrown together for a project one day, and I remember the exact moment I really looked at them for the first time. Because they caught my breath. Those eyes embraced me as I fell into them. I knew then this was no ordinary moment.

We began to talk more, lunch together and even flirted a little. OK, maybe a lot. I couldn’t tell – I was too busy lusting after a boy. A gamer. A roller hockey player. A nerd. An intern! I figured once I’m over my apprehension of turning the big 3-0, I would be over him too.

As serendipity would have it, a few of us at work organized a trip to a nearby museum after work (a geeky happy hour of sorts) except no one showed up except for the two of us. We tried to focus on the Toulouse-Lautrec exhibit, but we were mostly lost in our own world. As the evening wore on, perhaps inspired by the sensuous pieces by Degas, it wasn’t long before his hand found mine, and it seemed like the most natural thing in the world.

A gorgeous and temperate summer night greeted us upon our exit from the museum. We continued to stroll down the Magnificent Mile with our hands clasped, only that night, it felt more magnificent than any other. Although words were exchanged, “it’s a nice night for a walk” stood out in my mind. It was an understatement that danced on our lips because we both knew it was more that that.  It was a night made for lovers. Amid architectural wonders, bustling city traffic and wandering bodies, we saw only each other.

We neared his apartment about a mile from the museum, and I remember making the conscious decision to not follow him upstairs. I wanted to savor the innocence of our interlocked fingers. And so we lingered on the quieter side of the lively city next to a closed laundromat, our faces lit by the neon glow of the sign on its window. Very romantic, I know. In the background, impatient drivers honked their horns, drunk tourists stumbled past us, music blared from nearby restaurants. I was suddenly acutely aware of the minutiae because these details, the cacophony of sounds and kaleidoscope of colors were at once muted and intensified during one of the most amazing moments of my life: our first kiss. The weeks of flirtation, secret messages, furtive glances and the evening’s tentative hand-holding culminated to this moment. Oh the sweetness. The excitement. The tenderness. The passion. It. was. electric.

That night, that kiss was when lust became love.

Five years later, that boy is in the same room as me as I sit here secretly typing our little story, relishing each delicious detail. Reliving. Pulsating. Only now he is a man - one who is everything I thought he would be. And more. 

Five years later,  when I look at my daughter, I see the shape of those same eyes that caught my breath once upon an ordinary day.

Five years later, we continue to hold our hands when we walk together, and on beautiful nights, we still say, “It’s a nice night for a walk.” With a subtle squeeze of the hand after its utterance, it is our secret understanding, that yes, we have walked that warm and lovely August night together…all the way to this one.

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Hey man, happy five years. Will you take a walk with me tonight? (Yes, I got us a sitter and everything!)

 

For "my number one guy"...

 

 
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