one
One
Have you ever met someone you were very attracted to and thought about all the time? You know, that feeling when you check your email and phone constantly in hopes of a new message? Sometimes — especially in the beginning — the excitement and attraction is enough to overlook certain things.
Like the bad kissing. You figure, “Well, over time we’ll get into a groove. Or better yet, I’ll teach him/her how to kiss properly. (Because we all think we’re the best kissers out there and can mentor others).
We’ve all had the experience where you have someone you really want and put him/her on this almost-impossible-to-live-up-to pedestal. The anticipation builds up, and then the sex is just…eh. It’s disappointing. Things don’t go well; body parts just don’t align right. It’s lacking and just not like sex with ______.
Then you have the times where the person is just good for the sack. For whatever reason the universe has in store, it just works. It was cataclysmic while it lasted, but now The Big Bang is over, and there is nothing left.
Now here’s the hard scenario: As you get older and date more people, you sometimes have the unfortunate experience of realizing that no one will match the chemistry of that one great love(r) you had. You know which one I mean. The One.
There are plenty of people who make our hearts flutter, but that one person — no matter how long it’s been — makes you queasy. When you kissed that person, it was truly perfect. More intimate than sex. You’re lucky to do it once in your life. As you grow older, you realize, “Shit, am I really never going to have that chemistry, that passion, that perfect kiss again, let alone with someone I can spend the rest of my life with?”
She got away from me 10 years ago. There hasn’t been a day since, that I don’t think about her in some way, whether it be a fantasy or seeing places that we used to go or having my own loneliness bring me back to her. Everyday.
I used to wonder, “Does she ever think about me?” Ever?
I think I found out the answer to that recently. Of course, Facebook would be the medium to answer what I’d pondered. I knew through the grapevine that she was married. She had cheated on me and dumped me for this guy. After a few brief messages on Facebook, each one containing fewer and fewer words, it was clear to me that she’s very happy. She has her husband and two kids.
She asked about me. I have neither the spouse nor the children. I looked through her photos, and she looks the same as she did 10 years ago. My heart skipped a beat. It also dawned on me that she hadn’t thought about me. At least not in the way I had hoped she did. I am merely an afterthought of a past she doesn’t think about much.
On death row, they allow the inmates to choose once last meal, to allow them that one final fulfillment of sorts. God knows, I hope to never find myself in that predicament. But if I did, I wouldn’t choose a meal. I would ask for one last kiss from her. That’s the way I would want to remember this life. Then I could die in peace.
