Set­tle? Not me!

The Star (St. Lucia) - - THE LIGHT SIDE -

Asharply-dressed waiter lifts my hand­bag from the floor and places it care­fully onto a stand. He leans in close and whis­pers an apol­ogy about the wait, but I barely no­tice him over the shrieks of my girl­friends who’re busy cel­e­brat­ing yet another 30th birth­day. Only, as I later dis­cover, he’s not a waiter but the restau­rant man­ager.

When the fun dies down I find my­self back at the restau­rant for round two but this time we’re prac­ti­cally the only ones there. He seems in­trigued by me, and I’m there be­cause he is, with­out ex­ag­ger­a­tion, the best-look­ing man I’ve seen in my life. Lit­er­ally, look­ing at him makes me re­flect on all those times hope­ful prospects asked about my type, and there, sit­ting in that grandiose din­ing room, I know, with­out a doubt, that it is him. He looks ea­gerly into my face as though ex­pect­ing the sum of me to come spilling from my lips but I, so fo­cused on stay­ing awake from par­ty­ing late the night be­fore, can barely get any words out. All I know is that he has the most beau­ti­ful skin . . .

I won­der about how I’ve even ended up here. We’d ex­changed email ad­dresses af­ter our first meet­ing, and the next morn­ing an email from him had been wait­ing in my in­box about how much he wanted to see me again. Just the day be­fore, my friend Tor­rent and I had been talk­ing about how much we were done with men, par­tic­u­larly af­ter her last es­capade, dat­ing a man who hadn’t told her, un­til she found out for her­self, that he was mar­ried . . . with kids!

With that thought I glance down at his left in­dex fin­ger and . . . I can al­most feel my world shift. Is this re­ally hap­pen­ing? Déjà vu, à la Tor­rent. I in­stantly feel jinxed. Did he plan on telling me at all?

I won­der whether to bail now or later on this date, but noth­ing about the sit­u­a­tion seems in­ap­pro­pri­ate or pre­sump­tu­ous. Be­sides, he’s been noth­ing but a gen­tle­man. I con­vince my­self to stay and talk with him about ev­ery­thing un­der the sun: work, writ­ing, life. His silent rev­e­la­tion doesn’t make him any less amaz­ing. In fact, I am damn sure he’s the man I’ve been look­ing for my en­tire life. I won­der about the uni­verse and its wicked sense of hu­mour . . .

In the con­fines of my room that night he re­mains on my mind. De­sire rock­ets through my body when I think about how he’d hugged me, hard and tight, like he never wanted to let go. Just as quickly comes the sink­ing re­al­ity. Still, I can’t shake the feel­ing that it’s some kind of ob­scure les­son. Per­haps it was all about not set­tling. My mind drifts upon soul mates, and what it could pos­si­bly mean to meet the per­son you’re meant to be with when you’re good and set­tled down with some­one else. I won­der how many other peo­ple have ex­pe­ri­enced the same.

What­ever it all meant, I knew I wouldn’t for­get him. He was search­ing for some­thing, as was I. There was no telling whether I or some­one else would be able to give him the an­swer he was look­ing for but I knew, with­out a doubt, that our spon­ta­neous meet­ing had helped me to find mine.

The best things in life are of­ten worth the wait!

A col­umn about love, re­la­tion­ships, dat­ing and ev­ery­thing in be­tween by Sadie Love.

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