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“Hi,” I said.
“Hey,” she said back.
It wasn’t often I found myself in a position – alone, at the back of a bar with company. I entertained leaving but then thought better of it.
“Would you like a drink?” I had asked with a grin. It never didn’t help to be polite.
I remember thinking she stared at me in that way you know, holding her breath, a hand on her hip, and their posture a little bit stiff. The kind of look people gave when they thought you a little bit weird.
I wasn’t the most sociable back then, I imagine I shrugged, and as she tells me, I told her, “Suit yourself.” No surprise really, I had an important task at hand. A very important task might I add—a glass of wheat beer. It was my fifth or perhaps the sixth of the night, and I love my wheat beer. Its golden colour never ceased to entrance.
I took a sip, and the cold, familiar taste soothed at my throat.
What does it taste like? I guess you never know it till you try. It tastes like it looks, cool and smooth, but with a hint of summer – no you can’t have some, you’re not yet eighteen.
Hah, yes it went like that for a while until your mother sat down. She drummed her fingers in that awkward gesture. You know what I mean. That expression of hers, both sheepish and meek. “Is your offer still available?” I remember her asking.
It was then that I first entertained her, in a dark room in a far gone corner of a bar. I bought her a drink, lemon lime bitters because she still doesn’t drink.
I didn’t mind, it was cheap, but it awkward you know. She just sat there and didn’t talk, so I thought, if she didn’t want to talk, I was fine with my beer. So I went to order another, but she beat me to it.
When the waiter came around, she kind of squeaked, “another beer for the gentleman please.”
At that point, I hadn’t even asked her name. I started to take her seriously. I didn’t know what it was, I was at a bar drinking, but until that point, I had always wanted to be alone. It was a feeling you know, a lightness in your chest, the way your body relaxes and kind of sags into a smile.
So at that point I was thinking, it never didn’t help to be polite.
So I took her seriously and introduced myself, and she herself.
Did I tell you before it was awkward? Well, neither of us knew how to continue, so we just sat there. I with my beer, her and her lemon lime bitters. I was happy with her just being there, and I could tell she thought so too.
It was instinctive you know. There was nothing that I could really say how or why. Just a feeling, that when I got home made me want to dance and sing.
No. We didn’t pass numbers. We were in university and mobile phones were expensive back then.
No, we didn’t ask to meet up, but the next week, I turned back up at the bar. I was all nervous and excited, don’t go telling anyone. It’s embarrassing but I was snooping around to see if she were there.
She wasn’t of course.
Just kidding. She was waiting down the back – and that kids is how your mum and I met.
Hello everyone! I’m sure you all know of that feeling I’m talking about. That moment when your heart beats a little faster. The way your mouth morphs into a giant grin, the curling of your toes or that quickening of breath.
Don’t cringe away, what do you all think? When I first decided I was in love with my girlfriend today, we walked home together. I tested the walls with a (study) date. She didn’t think I seriously meant to study but I did.
A story for another time.
What about you guys? When did you first figure you were in love. When? Where? How?
Please leave your stories below and until next time!