needle in the hay
He was just a local guy. Cute, but it never registered. He's part of a group of people who aren't my people. He's maybe judging me. Subconscious: "but he is dreamy, isn't he?"
FF two or three years later, and I'm walking into the local dive bar, a little nervous but pretty excited that after this past couple weeks of talking and hanging out, he finally made it clear he wants me to come see him. Seems minor, but such a revelation when beginning to see someone. I pay the cover, am very friendly with the door man, and I casually scan the crowd to spot him. Nowhere to be seen, but an all too familiar form from an entirely different world invades my vision, like an angry dinosaur trampling through your previously pleasant dream of happily meandering through a live labyrinth. Dan. And next to him, his new girl. Sigh. Well this is happening. Relieved to find my emotions don't betray me, I walk toward him and say "hey."
"Hey." And he looks miserable. Nothing else is said, and I'm standing facing the both of them waiting for something to happen as my feet begin to feel like they're stuck in quicksand. The band carries on, beginning to pump my blood full of that finger plucking adrenaline that only live raunchy bluegrass can do. I mouth "holy. fucking. shit." to no one in particular, for this moment in my life is saturated in dark humor, I can't help but wonder if the gods became bored and needed a laugh. I turn and lean over the bar, order a drink. I turn again, acutely aware of the ricocheting glare I'm subconsciously receiving from my embittered ex partner as he forcibly stares away from me. And then you, whom I've nearly forgotten about, who had been only a few feet in front of me this whole overly extended moment of absurdity, turn around and saunter towards me at the precise moment you should, knowingly, with a devilish look in your eyes, as though you know you're the most welcome thing I've ever seen in my life. In this moment, I forget everything else happening around me. Your approach is somehow intimate; a bystander would sense our draw to each other. Your little sheepish smile. Your red and white trucker hat. You belong here, next to me, you belong in this music's hazy excitement. An arm extends next to me, and I quietly shudder with the revelation that you're politely enveloping me as your date. You say something that I don't remember. All this is happening in my animal brain, while I also experience this sick pleasure that Dan, my dream trampling dinosaur, has borne witness to this encounter. The severance of what was us could not have been more satisfying if you had been able to tear, slice and snap it apart with heavy quilting shears. The acquiescence is palpable, an abundance of the sweetest water to a parched tongue. Perhaps the gods weren't bored, but had planned my sweet mercy with this symphony.
I silently thank you for not being my rebound, you came at such a better time. I'm ready for you. I'm ready for something else.
We dance, we smoke dried leaves, we meet new people. We sing. We dance some more. There is another guy to my left on the dance floor who's hoping his earlier advances may come to something with me after the show is over. The cheap attention somehow adds to the night's exhilaration but is nothing compared to the magnetism I feel from you at my right. I turn from the rambler and touch your leg as we dance to imply that it's you and no one else right now, and you understand. I feel your hand at the small of my back to say "it's you too."