Till date I don’t understand what is the mechanics behind connections that I make. Seemingly random events, acts or triggers that lead to something meaningful. What is it inside of us that makes us go for it in the inflection point changing the trajectory of our lives after that point.

In the throes of heartbreak, at the time I was pursuing my rebirth is when a totally random story that Daisy posted caught my attention. Some random exchanges of pleasantries and then I started to notice. The purposefulness in each rep she lifted. The grit in her eyes forged by a storm. I knew we were both walking the same path. That small fire emoji reaction representative of the flames in my heart which just wanted to be released hit her mailbox. And thus started the butterfly effect.

I walked in there with no expectations. Well not entirely true. I guess I wanted to have that connection with another human being where you just sit and talk as the sky turns dark blue. In an atypical way I arrived early, and she was late. Time was I’d have driven myself crazy counting each nano second. But not this time. I kicked my feet up and had a few beers and let my mind drift sideways.

She walked in and her eyes scanned the expanse looking for me amidst the sea of human beings, finally making contact. She had on black pants that snugly hugged her delicate waistline. A maroon spaghetti top that rested gracefully on her collar bone and an acid washed denim jacket that signalled a boundary. Her smile had a playful gleam that complimented the twinkle in her eyes.

As I hugged her, her hair got in my face. She smelled fresh like the morning dew. My heart wanted to skip a beat but incessant anguish cautioned against it. The logical part of me warning to keep her at arms length. The lion inside me thrashed against the cage I had built to protect it.

The evening commenced with nugatory discussions. She sipped her way to the second espresso martini and I worked my way to my third vodka coke. By this point enough alcohol coursing our blood streams to break down the walls we put up and emerge from the fog of inhibition to take that risk. That leap of faith. That first step forward. Conversations switched tracks to a more intimate topics both us finding out that we were riding out the same kind of storm.

She excused herself to visit the porcelain throne. As she walked away, I noticed how gracefully she did. Her steps were confident and purposeful. Her hips swayed alluringly like a delicate pendulum. When she returned, the jacket was off gesturing a sense of comfort and at the same time availability.

One Long Island Iced Tea later turned the rest of the evening hazy in a drunken orchestra. A jazz of sorts of emotions, playfulness, excitement and a touch of fear.

We stumbled out of the bar as we made our way to my chariot. In a very organic our fingers interlocked. The degree of intimacy you feel when you just hold someone’s hands and your fingers are intertwined, that is unparalleled. It’s a love language of it’s own. Personally, I think the way their fingers just fill the spaces between ours symbolically represents an attempt of a wholesome completion to the voids in our own selves. Yin to our Yang. Rachel to our Ross. Claire to our Phil. A balance. In a childlike gesture I stopped and bought her a rose making her blush harder than the corolla in her hand. She delicately wrapped her hand around it in a protective way and looked deeply in my eyes and smiled. Her eyes said – Don’t worry I got you.

When we got to her place, we sat there on her couch minimally covered expressing a readiness for vulnerability. I bared myself and told her my tale of woe. Unlike the cagey deer I used to be. I’d rather she left for who I am than stayed for who I was not. I waded through the swamp meandering through the daisy chain of decisions that brought me to the current day. She sat there. No judgement. Not appalled at the train wreck of a life that I had. Hmmmmmm. This feels different.

She reciprocated in kind. She walked me through her life. The series of events unfolding leading up to where we stood that day. The chronicles were devoid of emotion and delivered in a very matter of fact way. But I noticed the times here lips quivered. The way their edges imperceptibly trimmed downward feeling the tinge of melancholy. I hugged her then and she lay on my chest. A gesture to demonstrate presence. I guess she will release the flood gates when she wants to.

We woke up the next morning in each others arms. I noticed the gentle curves on her body silhouetted by the sunlight. The way her hips arched gracefully. The seductive way her underwear clung to them. We were dehydrated. Hungover. Exhausted. But comfortable, peaceful and thoroughly enjoying the proximity. Her eyes expressing the contentment as she looked into mine and whispered good morning.

A great first date but an internal trepidation on how this will turn out.

Part 2 – The Resolute Sun