"something 'bout the way your hair
falls in your face"
[John Mayer, "Your Body is a Wonderland"]

She just left. She called when she got home to say she was there safe. My heart is still racing, and I don't know what to do with the tremendous energy inside me, so I've chosen to write. That song is playing in the background.

We chatted in the afternoon on the phone. I finally took the plunge and suggested supper. She agreed. We met face to face for the very first time. I finally figured out what it was about her that looked familiar to me. She reminds me of Samantha Doiron. Not because they look alike. They don't really. Maybe a touch. The smile perhaps. But it's not a reminiscence of the past. This woman is very new and special and interesting and incredible in all her own ways. But she reminded me of Sam because she has something that Samantha had. It's something that few women have. My friend Tracey has it sometimes. Two other girlfriends of mine had it. The others didn't have it, though it didn't matter. I love seeing it.

We ate. We talked. We came here. We talked. We talked and talked and talked and talked. We sat nervously on the couch and yammered away, and I enjoyed the experience thoroughly. We both hid our nervousness well. I struggled at times to stay focussed, distracted by this thing.

Finally our evening came to an end. I walked her downstairs and out. No kiss goodnight. Not a touch. She went home, and gave me a quick call just to let me know she was there safely, as requested. We chatted briefly and finally ended our night. She's curled up in her bed now, quietly slipping into sleep. I'm sitting here typing frantically, mind still abuzz, heart only now slowing to somewhere near a normal pace, wondering when I will see her next.

I will force myself to take my time. I will force myself to make sure that things go as right as they should, and no righter nor any less right. I will caution myself against recklessness or folly. I will do my damndest to be careful. I will do this, because I should and must. But it will be very difficult. If my nervousness and doubt had not kept me at bay tonight, I'd have already tried to take things a step farther than perhaps they should be. But I must make sure it's real. I must make sure I'm not reaching, or making more of it than it is. Because this thing... this thing is so incredibly alluring.

Have you ever wanted so badly to reach out and touch someone, just the gentlest caress, that it took all your will not to? Have you ever felt like you would simply shatter the moment that contact was made, but longed to make it anyway? Have you ever felt like a moth to a flame? Wanted to cast yourself into flame and let yourself be consumed?

What is this thing? What is this look in her eyes, her face, her hair that I so much longed to touch? What is it, you ask...

If you've ever in your life experienced it, you don't need me to explain.

If you've never in your life experienced it, nothing I could write would ever make you truly understand.

Life.

When my blood cools and at last I sleep, perhaps I will awake thinking I'm just a guy, who just had supper and chatted, with just a pretty girl. And if so - that's fine too. Hell, it's safer for me. Maybe I'm just being foolish right now. I probably shouldn't even be writing this and letting the world see me in a moment of child-like giddiness.

Or perhaps tomorrow I will awake still feeling like a god, feeling blessed, and thirsting still.
I was determined I might make a miracle, because I long ago gave up in believing I'd ever simply find one.
What if I have been wrong?
My god how I wanted her to stay.

"But you look so good it hurts sometimes"
[John Mayer, "Your Body is a Wonderland"]