My words are ink blots, designed to play upon the very essence of what my readers want to hear. Sadly, I have neither granted wisdom beyond what they already knew, nor I have provided them with insight beyond what pieces they had already put together. Whatever it is that they seek they will not find here. But what of me you ask? What do I see in it all? in every word I see his bright blue eyes peering down at me in first sights spark, I feel his arms toss me into the sky only to catch me in his bed of roses, I hear his foreign voice resonate through my mind in a harsh language spoken so sweet, I see that smile that was only for me that night he took me to watch the Emerald City’s lights, and I feel my heart start pounding again like it did when he put his palm to my chest and astonishingly said, “you have a pulse.” In the divine, star-crossed madness of it all, I have to catch my breath and smile because I can still feel him pulsing through my veins.
We were just getting ready to leave the restaurant in Bondi, at the time I didn’t really know where Bondi was, other than it was outside of Sydney and obviously on the coast because it was actually called Bondi Beach, pronounced “bond eye”.
At the moment, I can’t remember much of what we were talking about in detail aside from the fact that it was the basic things I guess people would talk about on a date, though I wouldn’t know if that is accurate because the last actual formal date I had been on was when I was 16, and that doesn’t really count because I had already known that guy for a long time.
I do remember listening to something more awesome sounding than music music, an accent. I wasn’t really nervous, because I tend not to take serious situations seriously sometimes unless they get super serious. I could tell he was a bit nervous at times (or maybe I can say that later because he told me that he was nervous at some point in time way later).
Okay fine I do remember something we talked about that I’d just like to forget him asking me about, “So where is your boyfriend? Why are you traveling alone?”
Stab to the heart, I didn’t want to talk about it, the rule I read someplace is “Don’t talk about the ex to new guys, especially on dates.” Oh well, the lightest answer I could come up with was, “he abandoned me, we were supposed to move someplace together, but I was busy and he didn’t want to wait so he left, then I came here.” After saying it I realized from the look on his face that it wasn’t a very light answer, but at that point it was a sunk cost I had to deal with and people were going to know, I just wanted to avoid the excess emotions attached to it and enjoy the night.
We left the restaurant and took the long way back to the car by walking the board walk. He told me about the place and pointed out a romantic spot where he used to dance with his ex girlfriend.
“At least I’m not the only one bringing up the ex, must not be such a general rule,” I thought to myself. I also thought, “why don’t we dance there now?” but didn’t say it out loud because I figured he’d ask me if he wanted to and he didn’t so I wasn’t going to change his plans.
From there we drove up the hill to a park that over looked the Sydney skyline. I was going to sit down on the grass, but he told me to wait while he took off his jacket and started putting it on the ground for me to sit on. I told him is wasn’t necessary, but he insisted that it was leather and that it was fine.
So there I was, watching the city lights….falling in love again.