I’ve heard a saying, that “life is a surprise”. Call me a skeptic, but I generally scoff at lines that scream something that leaves us expecting so much. My short love story may be short on words, but it’s a story that’s filled every thought and day of my existence with happiness. I’m a guy, a 26 year old guy who works in a job he likes. A guy who hangs out with his friends when the sun goes down, and one who, when the story begins, is still single. I’m single, not because I want to be single. I think it’s weird to be single. Or maybe that’s what all guys think. I’m just a guy who’s been looking high and low for that girl who can make things happen inside me. You know, your heart stops beating just for a second, your throat goes dry, you get gooseflesh, feel a bit dizzy, and the works. I haven’t experienced that. Most of my friends haven’t experienced that too, but they’re all going out with someone. According to them, such things happen only when you’re suffering from a high temperature.
The story of me falling madly in love didn’t actually go as I had expected. My throat never got dry, ever. But then, I liked a girl. Of course, it wasn’t ‘love’. Actually speaking, it wasn’t even ‘like’.
As a matter of fact, I have no idea what I felt. I spend my evenings at a café, next to a huge television display they’ve now acquired, and whether I like it or not, I end up spending my time staring at it. And it bloody hell annoys me! Can’t they just junk it? Well, and just like me, there was this cute girl who would come to the same café, and stare at the same display every day. Well, sometimes she read a book. Or sometimes, she used to light a cigarette and look at her fumes take shape, and then disappear into non-existence. She was fascinating and pretty. But there was one difference between both of us. I came to the café with a couple of friends. She came alone. I have never seen any girl do that. Who has?
We used to glance across each other now and then, but there was nothing more. No jolt. No sweat. No knots in my stomach. The days turned to weeks, and weeks turned to a couple of months. That’s a long time once you picture the scene outside the world of literature. Long, long ago seems so cute in a book, but an hour in a suffocating conference hall? Murder! Without actually knowing it, I was attracted to this girl.