It was just about a year ago that we met, while on a visit to see my old friend Stephanie. I went outside to smoke with you, not because I wanted a cigarette, but because I just wanted to stand near you for a few minutes away from the cacophony of the bar. After going back in, I stole this blurry photo of you, never thinking that I would see you again, but rather as a prop to use while telling my Boston friends about a fun night out in Long Island and the cute boy with the sexy accent.
When you asked to see me again, and again, during the weekend visit, I wanted to come off as cool and smart but was sure you could through to my nervous core. Driving back to Boston that Sunday evening in the pouring rain, you texted a message to me which in that exact moment mirrored what I was thinking about you. Do you remember?
Once home, I couldn’t quite recall what you looked like and referred to this blurry image over and over to jog my memory. This sounds strange, but the precious few times in life where I have met someone who took my breath away, their exact image is fleeting in it’s accuracy. The exactness of your profile would appear in the moments before waking, or in a sideways glance, but never recaptured fully until our next meeting. Lucky for us, that didn’t take long. I flew to LaGuardia the very next weekend to see if there was…. well, if there was really anything of substance there or if it just another dead end story.
I said a year ago that I’d rather regret doing something rather than regret doing nothing. You and I have had a year of firsts, and I regret none of the twists and turns life has taken since that April night, standing beside you outside in the chilly air.