Stranger

April 16, 2008

WARNING: This entry, although not intended to be abusive, may contain some rated material not suitable for sensitive readers.

***

You were looking at me, I know. But I couldn't look at you back.

You were near. So near beside me. And beautiful. You looked like someone I know. Someone I lost last summer. And I imagined you were him. He didn't want me. Maybe you are here beside me now to replace him. Maybe you want me too. Maybe this time I get to win. Maybe... Maybe... My pulse raced.

You looked at me again, I know. But I couldn't move my eyes to meet yours. I used to believe in things like this. Meeting strangers on the bus home. Trying to feel each other. Flirting. I didn't want to believe it will happen to me now but you looked at me again and smiled. I took a deep breath.

I played with my hands. Rubbed my fingers over each other. Tried to give you subtle signs. I didn't know what else to do. I like you, yes. And I want to hold your hand. I want you to lean your head on my shoulder. I want to comfort you and erase that forlorn look from your eyes. I want to please you. Just because I like you and you're a stranger and you're looking at me.

23 years old but I still haven't experienced such a thing. Almost always, those few I get to like ignore me or cannot give me what I want from them. Those who flirt with me I do not like. And suddenly, there you were, reciprocating.

It would have been fun, touching your arm and going home with you. It would have been exciting to lie in each other's arms through the night. But I'm beyond such things now. I'm betrothed. I'm married. I already have someone else. But I like you. I do. Not only because you're beautiful, but because you make me feel beautiful as well. You make me feel that I'm wanted and desired.

My baby? Sometimes he wants me sometimes he doesn't care. He likes to sleep. He prefers that to having sex with me, he told me. He said having me beside him is enough. My presence is enough.

My baby? He doesn't tell me compliments. We've been more than one year together but if I count the times he praised me for how I look it cannot be more than the fingers of my hand.

Earlier I was fucking him but as always, he was not very responsive. He said he was tired. I was tired too. Of many things. It's a thing which could be mended and it isn't always bad but

Sometimes, I want to feel admired too.

Sometimes, I want to feel I'm wanted too.

Sometimes, I want more excitement.

And you were there beside me, willing, a dream come true but my eyes were stuck to my hands. I cannot. I want to feel those things from you but I cannot. I cannot lie with other people now. Not ever.

And when Philcoa came I stood and I half-expected you to look at me, a question in your eyes, and amazingly you did, and it was then that I looked you in the eye, and I realized that you weren't half as handsome as I thought you were from the corner of my eye. You looked better in my mind. I was disappointed.

I got off the bus and shook my head inwardly on how foolish I was, getting carried away for nothing.

But I know that I like you still just for the looks you gave me.