I fell in love with a one-night stand.


She was charming, but I only realised that to be brutally true, in that dark street-lit room after. All the while, I was hardly thinking, just passionately driven to fulfil a need. Years have graduated my hunger from being merely sexual, to becoming a search for a blissful antidote, for my loneliness and lack.


Every night I spent alone, I spent in wasted hunger.


I can't describe this. Nothing beats this kind of intimacy with a woman. But tonight's woman was different. She was so special, hardly sweet, to many men, she would be crass. But to me, I found her to be as sweet as spring water, as from the mountains, the ones I saw once in France when I was a young boy travelling with his family. No woman could beat that. The rest I've had, always left a sour taste on my lips, like the way milk does on your palate, a creamy sour.


When she invited me home, I knew nothing. But a point scored - now I know, I am but an empty man.



...


Dark, street-lit room. There is this thing about the first time with someone new, the room always has to be dark enough. Every one of them the same.


I saw her smile, when we were lying side by side, she on her front, and I on my back, while we both looked at each other. Looked at each other in that piercing informal way. I couldn't help myself, I was charmed into the aura of her.


I cannot let her know this.


As we lay there, it was to me, a moment frozen in our human warmth. Cleaving in our souls for that one living moment, breath crystallising in another time and place. Suddenly I realise, I was acting like a man who had fallen in love.


You must know the feeling. Like it were a lost cause to gain control over that magnetism to that person, the object of your foolish gaze.


It cannot be - she is a fling. I sound like a cad when I say that, but my being here was meant to be a one-time affair. This is our armour. Engage-detach-repeat with another stranger.


But suddenly, I cannot detach properly. I lost myself.


I have to talk to her, but I am so awestruck by her gaze of her presence still, from that moment in that night. I have to see her again, as it were, re-visit a lover. I can't not think about her anymore, she came and took a place in my consciousness. But if I see her again, she will know this craziness in me, and I will have taken the plunge of risk in letting her know how I feel.


This aching longing in me, I cannot rid myself of. Every fantasy now, is of her, of the things we will do to each other, in that same street-lit room. Same old, same old, never felt any better with anyone in this way.


...






To be continued.
(as always)