I sat alone on the porch waiting for him. Why was I even here?

The wind was subtle and the sky was clouded—overcast and Grey. What else had I to do? I was restless and young. I had several things on my mind when I had agreed to meet with him.

I had never met him before, personally. Our first encounter was digitally processed, like the way much of this world is—At least for me. Especially at this time in my life, there is little much I experience beyond that niche in my room, that glowing box that fit perfectly in my lap (but was hell to carry to school). It started with a picture. A passing thought and then the click of a button.

Before I knew it, even though I was already exchanging information with someone else (but as I’ve mentioned before, I was young, and restless) we had agreed to meet (I was mostly restless at this point, there is no way people who claim youthfulness, have as much back problems as I do.) I was experimenting, but there is no longer need for excuses. No inhibitions. No attachments. Just an Enlightened freedom.

So there I sat on the damp terrace, sucking in the damp October air. One could taste it in the air that rusty, moist flavor that lingers on your tongue, before it rains.

The question came to my mind again.

Why am I waiting here? For some guy I’ve never met?

The chill of the young night did little to dissuade me. He came so fast, swerving expertly onto the driveway with his Civic chariot. I boarded without second thought and we sailed off into the valley.

We spoke as we normally did on the phone and the Internet. There was no awkwardness or tension at all. But there is a whole different vibe about speaking with someone in person, than speaking with them with a cable between the two parties. I started to wonder that it was a shame that the world is so dependent on E-meeting. But then again, knowing me, I would have never been able to gather the courage to talk to him without some prior knowledge of him.

He was an aspiring accountant.  A promising one at that, whose talent was immediately recognized by a large Jewish firm near York University. His nose was funny-looking, and he was a little pudgy. Not a Sean Kingston pudgy, but more of a Stephen Harper kind of pudgy.

He had so much to say, and I always had something to counter with. I felt as I should—different? Unique? Someone who can make him laugh and brighten his day… whether that’s true on his side or not, I cannot say, but for the car ride, that’s how I felt.

I knew where I was standing with him. I wasn’t interested in getting into a “relationship” per se, but the company was nice to have after a long seven or eight (nine?) months of solitude. The heart was so tired of breaking, so whether I built a wall out of fear or uncertainty, remains a mystery until this day. But the way he looked at me made me tilt my head to the side. I needed another perspective if I was going to brand this one.

His eyes were grey like the sky with an intriguing luster. The kind of luster almost cause a childhood ADD relapse. Twinkling almost, his eyes smiled too when I cracked a joke. No matter what we did that evening, we had a good time and I was undoubtedly happy.

The attraction was mutual. I knew this as he slowly made his moves. Subtle he was. Small gestures of chivalry which amused me more than anything else. Yet I tested him as he lay down the stakes for the next game. It was a competitive tussle. I won once, but these stakes were in my favor whether I won or lost. I thought it would be more fun if I lost. I wouldn’t want to hurt his manhood too much.

He left me waiting for it, wanting it. Now it was he who was playing me. We headed back into his car and we ended up at Orion’s Gate. I don’t remember what movie we watched. We were enveloped behind a velvet curtain of lustful bliss. The only thing I remember of the movie was the dim glow reflected on his face. His lips were like peach marshmallows and his tongue was sweet from his cherry flavored gum.  His hair held up by some cheap gel, fell in ringlets around my face. Between breaths I playfully pulled the one ringlet that would get in my way. It was cute. But his smirk was cuter as he pursued my mouth further.

The night eventually came to an end. We sat this time chastely in front of the Tim Hortons. I rarely drank coffee, if you consider a French Vanilla as coffee. There was something powdery and artificial about it, and you tasted it as you got to the bottom of the cup. Conversation had only slightly changed between us. Instead of the joking-joking, there was a more sullen and relaxed feel. No pressure. The rain that had fallen had been diminished to a hazy mist, and the sight of it made the neon signs glimmer. The night was aging though, and I had to go home.

He called me the next evening. We spoke of the previous evening in the same tone we always held. He didn’t believe me when I told him I let him win, but I had expected that. His gray eyes were  coloured lenses and his hair was curled. I maintained my cool, while still being friendly. We wished each other goodnight sometime before midnight. But something had changed within me.

Like rain I had felt. Once I fell the feeling was no more.

So here I am now. I wait again on the porch. The clouds at play, and so am I. The Civic chariot arrives and we drive off into the hidden sunset.

I don’t ask why. I ask why not.

Author:Jacquelin Chatterpaul