Tao of John Wayne
Originally published at The Glass People. You can comment here or there.
I hoping, nay praying, begging, and pleading to not fuck this one up.
I met you at a show with a Japanese looking fellow who kind of looks like a girl from behind as the main singer. He rocked my socks off, not literally of course because I was also wearing shoes, but figuratively.
The truth is you rocked my socks off much harder and faster. I saw you walking and I melted a little inside. This wasn’t because of the alcohol that I had been consuming. Nay it was your presence.
I tried to dance, we yelled loud enough to hear each other talk during the breaks, I bought you a Harp, and we rejoiced. Less than 24 hours later I saw you again from a short distance.
This time it was planned. Even your silhouette looked great. I tried complementing your amazingly stylish black dress with my sudo-mod black shirt and silver tie. It was a nerve wrecking night of meeting all of your friends while not getting too much of a chance to talk to you. The night started winding down and we talked a little more. We headed out to a bar with those who were still at the party and talked some more. I attempted a wink and looked more like I was trying to catch a fly with my eyelashes, we laughed. Soon we left and I walked you home. You were the brave one and took my arm first. I was so shy. As the night air quickly froze my breath I clasped your hand in mine and felt my blood temperature shoot to the sky. Back inside your house I nervously talked to you while my mind was bending around our soon to be first kiss. Fireworks, rockets, and a million twinkling stars shoot off your lips as they touched mine. I was hooked.
The next evening we had plans for dinner and a movie. So classic, but ever so fitting. Dinner was short and sweet while the movie was emotional and funny. I tried not to let the night end so easily. We decided to get some drinks and talk so more. In a nearly empty bar with the worst music selection ever we intertwined questions and stories getting to know each other better and better with each word. I shot off some horrid questions and immediately told you not to answer, you did the same once in my direction. The night kept growing and time turned on us.
We made it back to your place. After a little more talk over a cigarette we kissed once more, twice more, three, four, and five times more. I hoped to not leave your back porch until the sun arose, but alas we said our goodbyes while you headed inside.
And the whole of today I’ve desperately clung to my telephone hoping, praying, begging and pleading with myself to not call you so soon. I’m mesmerized and enthralled by you. I don’t want to fuck this chance up. Please God don’t let me fuck this one up like so many before. So now I sit starring at a white-board which just too recently contained the scribblings of a neural network. It reads, “Don’t call her, whatever you do, don’t call her until Tuesday.” I hope I can keep to my white-board’s declaration. After all, it’s my own nature I’m railing against.