She had spent another night awake, thinking of ideals and goals that seemed further away with each second that passed. Tonight, she was in a music kick. It never ceased to amaze her how happy or sad, how angry or hopeful a song could make her. It could unlock deep emotions, or brush away a bad day…just by clicking play. But tonight…oh tonight…she was lost in the dream world of romantic Sinatra songs, drowning in Como’s velvet voice swirling around her mind. So there in the dark, her mind ran several scenarios in her head. She resented the fact that, as cliché as it sounds, her life had never been a fairytale. It wasn’t really that she was expecting it to be in the first place, but she was tired of hearing countless stories from her friends and even strangers, about intense first dates…flowers…dancing in some dark corner like they had been the only two humans in the universe. Life is not scripted, but it seemed everyone had at least one perfect moment…where everything aligned to make it a magical few seconds. A brief moment that revived the hope once had in love and soul mates, where all fear and insecurities were safely hidden away.
So as her player jumped from Sinatra’s “The Way You Look Tonight”…to Al Martino’s “Spanish Eyes”, she felt this overwhelming urge deep in her chest-where love often lies dormant-to be in a pier somewhere. She could almost feel the ocean breeze hitting her in the middle of a moonlit night, tiny string lights decorating the patio of a seaside restaurant. The old tunes playing in the background softly against the rhythm of the waves crashing. She was wearing a simple, red, shoulders and collarbone mostly exposed…flowing knee length chiffon dress. Her eyes were almost looking down at herself from somewhere in the sky, seeing her slow dancing in those amazing high heels she never wears…her hair pulled up with just a few loose curls bouncing down the side of her face and down the back of her neck. Her makeup was fully done, softly accentuating her big dark eyes that she knew he loved…ah, he.
He had no face, no name, nobody she could match up to this dream. His face was nuzzled on her neck, softly tracing her collarbone and shoulder with his lips…not in lust, but as you would kiss something fragile, breakable. Dancing so close to her, whispering in her ear, both quietly laughing…at what, who cared. She looked happy, he look dazzled…he had no eyes for anything but her. He had gone to great lengths to make this night perfect it seemed, yet it was not pressured, not uncomfortable. She wanted him to have fun too, it was just a date. A random date, not filled with nervous expectations nor plans of eternal love. He slowly caressed her low back and traced his hand back up between her shoulder blade, as if memorizing every detail.
So, they danced, foreheads touching…faces brushing. It was the feeling not often found with someone, where you can’t be close enough…you almost feel like merging the souls together for a few breaths. You are so in tune with each other, you need no words to fill the silence. It was just a few hours, of being the only woman in the world to him. Just a few hours of feeling like she mattered, like someone valued her enough to realize what her dream date was and put it together. For all she cared…now that Perry Como’s “Catch A Falling Star” came on…the vision could transform to just walking around to a joint to have burgers and beer. They could be wearing jeans-dancing to the song down the sidewalk, just being silly. A few seconds of that smile she rarely saw on her face, a few moments for her eyes to sparkle like she was alive.
Just a friend even. Just a date. Not too much to ask, but to her, something so simple never came. Maybe she’ll put on her headphones and whenever she’s hanging out with her friends…she’ll grab someone and make it happen, in a random living room…in a backyard…in the kitchen while making dinner. Just one dance. Just another hopeless romantic fool.
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