He walked in and immediately the room lit up. Everyone had a smile on their face and greeted him enthusiastically, all wanting to be acknowledged by him. I laid back further on the couch, trying to make myself smaller. I remembered the last time I met him, he had thought I was annoying and had treated me so. A cheer went around as he began handing out a sports drink to everyone on the balcony. I kept my eyes down, not wanting to make eye contact for fear he’d think I was trying to scab one off of him. A strong caramel hand went into my view handing me the drink. I looked up at him and caught his eye to say thank-you. He looked fresh and well rested, which considering it was 9am in the morning from a long night of partying, was impressive. I didn’t want to think about the mess I resembled. They had had a big night out, drinking, taking whatever was handed to them and losing themselves in the music and each others company. As the group split up, I laid on the couch enjoying the after glow come down that was beginning to hit her. I knew I looked rough, but it was this moment, the moment I got to sit and reflect on the night I enjoyed so much. Thinking of the crazy, free and wild adventures. No need for stress or any kind of control. Just a complete splurge into the indulgence of youth and losing ones inhibitions. I slowly let my awareness of the room fill my mind, and noticed the strange groups forming in each area of the apartment. It looked like chaos. There was items smashed, a broken TV, plants all over the place and alcohol, everywhere. The bedroom had a weird assortment of people dating and their exes, all vying for each others attention. The smaller lounge room, had some people sleeping and others smoking weed. Outside had a small group trying to collect their minds from the previous night, having a cigarette in silence. Finally there he was, at the kitchen. Pouring more drinks and engaging the people around him in laughter. He looked up then and saw me looking at him, he asked if I wanted a drink and to have another upper. ‘Fuck it’ I thought, and said ‘yes thank-you’.
It had been 6 months since I had ended my 5 year relationship with someone I had thought I was going to imprison myself with marriage. The last 6 months had been a whirlwind of fitness, friends, working harder than ever and partying. Hard. I had completely let go and just gone for it. I was feeling freer and more confident than ever. I didn’t have to follow a rule book, listen to someone’s whims, or please anyone but myself. It had been glorious. I lived with friends, did as I please and fuck, did I love my life.
He began talking to me, and I couldn’t help feeling shy. That whole night I had acted with such confidence, talking to whom ever I pleased. For some reason this witty man was making me blush and made me want to check that my hair was in the right place. Soon the party began dying down. Sunday was well and truly underway and people had begun thinking about work the next day. He wasn’t though. He invited more people back to his, before turning to me and asking if I wanted to come with them. I looked at my friends,
they said ‘fuck it, go, have fun’.
I went with a mutual friend. Once we got to his, we went to the bathroom as the boys went to find some sport to watch. We searched the bathroom, trying to learn more about this man. His place had paint, he spoke with intelligence, and there was something about how his eyes that just lingered for a second longer than they should. The way his face would catch his smile, and hook around the side, giving a lop sided clever grin. We went back down to the lounge room where they were gathered watching two people fight, he looked at me and told me to choose who would win. I sat on the arm of the chair he was sitting on, pretending to watch the fight, but stealing as many looks as I could at him. I chose, I won. He pulled me into the large armchair he was sitting in. Wrapped his arms around me, then proceeded to exclaim how perfectly I fit. He told me and the entire room, that I was the perfect fit for him and his arms.
Nearly two years later, I wish he’d been right.
Flickering Dedications. 