| by comrade commissar | Thomas | @ Sunday, March 20, 2005, 3:42:00 PM | permalink |
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Disclaimer: The following is a work of fiction no way based on actual events. Any resemblance to real people, living and dead, is entirely coincidental. It was a whirlwind of a relationship. Did I swept her off my feet, or did she turned me off mine? The last few months have been insanely incredible. Or incredibly insane. Started as friends, then close ones, then mutual infatuation, then passion, then ardent devotion, all within a matter of weeks. Once we caught each other's attention, everything fell into place like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. We dreamt of spending hours just looking into each others' eyes- and when our busy schedules allow, we actually do that. She is smart, independent, and so hawt. And I just love the way we sound together when we sing. 9:30 on a Tuesday night. We drove down town with Bon Jovi on the stereo, windows down, high with the wind in our hair and the love that we had. The hard draft that blew in from the acceleration drowned out her voice. But I saw her, in the deafening guffaws of gust, her mad laughter causing her to tilt her head back in exhiliration. The way the wind flickered her shoulder-length hair about like bedazzling serpents, the way the streetlamps we tore past created pulsating tones of light that ricoheted off the tattoos on her skin, she was at once exotic and erotic.. I couldn't take my eyes off her. I was intoxicated in love. And in a matter of split seconds, I pictured living out my future with her. It was perfect. I loved her so much, I was willing to take care of her & her family. In my perfect image, we made such an adorable couple. In heady impulsiveness, I made the decision. I asked her the question. "WHAT?" "WILL YOU MARRY ME!" I shouted above the din. Next day, adrenaline and alcohol gone, euphoria remaining, we sat together, heart pounding with excitement, her hand in mine. We filled out the application. The lady who processed it for us could barely contain herself, trying her best to be professional. She asked if she could have our autographs for her sister after we paid for our application through credit card. Shit, I mouthed out by accident. I only brought NETS. She flicked out her credit card without batting an eyelid, and then turned to me with that reassuring yet sultry smile. I almost melted. (I paid her back in cash later though.) A photographer appeared from out of the blue. We recomposed ourselves, and smiled like the stars we are. I saw that photo afew days later, me, with my signature cheeky smile, with my lips slightly twisted in an impish manner (the fans love it), and her, the desirous expression gone. What she looked like was complete fulfilment, beaming with a glow of utter bliss. I had to leave soon after that for a recording session, we held each others' hands for awhile more before we said our hurried goodbyes. That night, I returned home to sober clarity. I slumped into my sofa, heavy with realisation, and faced myself. What have I got myself into? I wasn't ready for this. I comtemplated the the situation's seriousness. I made the decision - Better a "Sorry" now than several months down the road and everyone's sorry. Although my choice has since earned me alot of hatemail, plus plenty of flames on net forums, I don't regret it. I called her and told her. The usually quick-witted her did not come up with a smart retort; there was silence on the other end for forever seconds. Finally she muttered something about us maybe being like one of those Shakespearean tragedy couples. I wasn't sure what to say and agreed. The hurricane romance had died down to a overwhelming stillness, and perpetual silence followed. We eventually said bye. |
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