levitate
I love you, you know.
I shall use this series to post a history of my Coli love stories from when I was a member of #SimpSet.
Absolutely @PeridotPuss let me refresh your memory.
Paris. Summer. 2013.
We were both attending an international business conference for “Emerging Young Talent”.
After the main day of conference activities, held in a downtown convention center, several of the attendees went next door to a beautiful, recently renovated cocktail lounge. It was there when we first met. I was on the far end at the back bar drinking a bottle of water and you were just a few paces away sitting at a loveseat and talking to a couple of ladies that you had met at the conference. Our eyes locked – not in a “love at first sight” look, but rather a “wow, there is another minority here” look.
Over the next 15 minutes or so my bottle of water depleted and my conversation with a couple of guys waned. I decided to come up to you and introduce myself. We shook hands, I offered to buy you a drink (you requested merlot), and we began to chit-chat.
We sat together on the loveseat and talked for what must have been two hours. I was enamored by your command of macro economic principles, historical ramifications of globalization, and the way you lovingly looked off to the left when recalling a detail.
It was getting late, and loud, in the lounge – so we decided to head out for a nighttime Parisian stroll and continue our chit-chat. As we walked along the cobblestone side streets, quaint lampposts lighting the way, our conversations became more personal. We talked of our hometowns and upbringings. We talked of the mundanity of our work, masqueraded in happy Facebook posts marking our movements in upper management.
It was approaching midnight and I offered to get you a cab back to your hotel. You were staying at a fairly posh place, I was staying at a more affordable abode. You mentioned something in French which I did not understand. You smiled at my quizzical look then stated “the night is still young”. I smiled back, and invited you over to my hotel to continue our discussion and understanding of one another.
We arrived at my hotel. Maroon rugs with faux-ornate gold geometrical designs. I was on the 8th floor. We stepped into an elevator that looked like it was from the great war. Arriving at my hotel room, I gave you a brief tour: bathroom with clawfoot tub, bed (twin-size), a window overlooking the side street, a couch and an old grandfather clock. The grandfather clock, oaken and varnished, stuck on 11:42 – its routine maintenance abandoned long ago.
Our conversation dug deeper. You told me of your dreams, your desires…of your insecurities…your past admirers.
Soon it was time to retire and I noted that you “can stay here for the night if you like”. You had an interesting look on your face. I spoke again and said “you can sleep on the bed…I’ll take the lovely little couch!” with a smile. You said “sure” and had the most pleasant look on your face.
The next morning we ate crepes and drank fine coffee with cream and no sugar. We both had meetings and other conference events later in the morning that we needed to attend. We agreed to meet up later in the afternoon, at the Louvre, at two. Separate cabs took us to our destinations; you headed to your hotel and I straight to the conference.
I made it to the Louvre about 15 minutes early and walked about admiring the pyramid-like façade. The weather was perfect as it was brilliantly sunny with blue skies and wisps of white clouds dotting here and there. A tap on my shoulder…I turned around and there you were. You looked stunning in a black knee-length dress lined with white trim. Seeing your figure with the Louvre in the background, bright sky above us…was like seeing the world as God intended.
After our Louvre adventure we headed back to my hotel in a taxi and grabbed a quick dinner at a café across the street. Dinner was decent…steamed mussels and pan-seared scallops. Back at my hotel room, a bottle of merlot for you…a couple of bottles of water for me (I was never much of a drinker). We simply sat up all night…listening to classical French crooners and having deep conversations on the meaning of life.
When it was time to retire we both laid down on the small twin-sized bed. Crown molding and moonlight in our sights. My left side up against your right. You confided in me that once you got back in the States that you would quit your job and travel the world. I encouraged you to do so…to follow your heart. At some point during the conversation we clasped hands…and we held hands as we laid throughout the night.
I had a flight out the next morning: take-off scheduled for 11:42. Your departure was the following day. At 7 we woke up and ate another breakfast of crepes and coffee (no sugar). We then got in a cab and headed back to your hotel to drop you off before I took off for the airport. You stepped out of the cab – it was time to say our goodbyes. We looked eachother in the eyes...happy to have spent time together, sad that it was time to depart. I gave you a hug…you squeezed tight. “You’re a good lady…take care and remember to follow your heart” I said. “You’re a good man” you replied.
We remained embraced for several seconds, upon release we again looked eachother in the eyes. We were both tearing up. You said “I love you”, I said “I love you too…”. Single tears slid down our faces almost simultaneously. I kissed you ever so gently on your forehead…turned around and took off for the airport.
The End.
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