Serendipity and Cement Steps Part 2

Part Two

  I walked away and spent the remainder of my days there hoping for just a glance of him, just one more opportunity to take some of his time. Serendipity, where were you? This was where we were meant to meet. It was written in the foundations of love and carved into my soul for crying out loud. Nothing. He was not seen again and days later, I returned home constantly replaying his mannerisms, voice and smile in my head on a continuous loop. I told my closest of friends about him, even searching the internet and successfully locating a few photos. Sure our chance encounter was brief, but this man was sticking with me like the one Christmas where I got the gift I wanted the most. He was a promise of what lies ahead, what life could hold and what life let pass me by. As I pondered over my fantastical life with him in my mind one day, I recalled that he held an office local to him in the organization that ultimately was responsible for our encounter. THAT’S IT! I stumbled upon a connection to him; certainly there was some way of finding a number or an email, even better! An email where I could draft an earnest message telling him of my deep regret for not asking him for a drink and where we could arrange for it to happen…no matter where it meant I had to go. There was a sincere chance that I could still end up the proud wife of this city stud, live happily ever after and prove that the universe really does contain serendipity! Once I had his email address, I only had to figure out what to say to him and I had my options, believe me…

Dear Anthony,

It’s me, from the steps in the city. We smoked together and I was hoping we could do that again but in a way that involves friction.

No, no, no. Too much, too soon and too direct. I could lose every chance I have if he thinks I am looking for a short-term thing or desperate. Maybe I could go with something like…

Dear Anthony,

Enough is enough, we were meant to be together and I won’t let you get away again. Meet me at the Wrigley Building at midnight….

Nope, that isn’t the right approach either. I put my pen up for a while and went on with my life. Hours and days passed as I tried to come up with the perfect approach. The one message that would effectively cause the chick flick ending to inevitably descend upon us. I toiled day and night, while at work, the grocery while talking to the cucumbers and even more so while I lie in bed at night. Until one day I decided I had waited long enough and that I had to just put my message down without care or concern for what may or may not happen. I had to stop living in the fantasy of a life with a man that I had spoken to for all of 20 minutes. If there were any chance that the heavens were going to smile upon us and walk us down the aisle to eternal bliss, I had to reach out and put every hope I had, on the line and into an email. So I took a deep breath, grabbed my laptop and locked myself in my bedroom, heart racing. I started with telling him where we met and secretly hoping he would remember me. I clamored to explain how I missed my chance to spend more time with him and how I felt like I still wanted that. I excused the craziness of the entire thought but expressed my yearning to at least try because I felt that the universe, indeed, had a hand to play in our chance meeting. I probably read it twenty times, changing a line or a word here and there, then I did it…I clicked ‘send’. I was giddy with anticipation, high on possibility and scared to death. I was realizing there was fear for me that he would laugh when he read it, print it out and share it with everyone nearby for a hearty laugh. Oh no, or worse. Maybe he was really married and would think I was nuts or a stalker and report me to the local police, where I would be whisked away the downtrodden imaginary, handcuffed lover. What had I done?! And where were all of my friends that were supposed to keep me from doing such stupid things? Damn. The damage was done; I could not reach out into cyberspace and pull that email back. My feelings and thoughts had been transmitted into permanent record. After literally contemplating every worst case scenario, I finally told myself that whatever was to happen was to happen. I could not control the outcome any more than I could control how or when we met. I could only pray it would be semi-painless and check my email account at least 5 times an hour, some times more. Days passed, with nothing. The email notification would arrive and I would full-body lunge at my phone hoping it was him, only to find an ad for another lackluster dating site, no thanks. I was done with love and the prospect of it ever arriving again for me. I melted back into my routine of work, kids and household chores in my standard ranch home prevalently situated in this two stop light town. At some point I think I convinced myself he was married and had long since deleted my email with a chuckle. Then it arrived. Just when I was directing my attention elsewhere, there was a response. I vaguely recall it stating that of course he remembered me and how he was not attached. My heart fluttered to the tip top layer of my skin and hope arrived once more, he remembered me. ..

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