“I used to call you “my air” since you were literally the
best kind of oxygen, I have ever inhaled…”
I wrote this in my diary, slightly trembling from the thoughts
of you. Dating you lasted for two weeks with the passion of a one-year
relationship. I could start thinking about you and a quick glance at my watch
would shake me by realizing that my imagination has detached me from this world
for two damn hours.
Mike wasn’t tall, not that I cared about it anyway… His brown
hazel eyes did it all. He was a very talkative man, but his eyes said
completely different words to me. I remember our first date. I never told him
that way before I met him, I was with the guy who served us at that bar.
After two weeks of opening up to one another (to a certain
extent of course), Mike rhetorically asked me: “15 men, Belle, what if we see
one of them when we hang out? How am I supposed to feel if it happens?
Especially knowing that this guy also got to see your naked body... ” When I
recall his words, I struggle to recall his countenance but rather his body
language, I can remember too clearly. It was a weird scenario of us. I was
sitting on his lap as a young girl who made foolish mistakes and was now
lectured by her father. He seemed disappointed, I remember, but at the same
time so assuring. Assuring that we can get past my past.
I have never seen Mike since then. Do I regret breaking up
with him? I`d regret dating him if he saw one of my exes and was embarrassed by
me.
Mike, if only god had sent you to me 15 men ago, we wouldn’t
have had to break up. But he didn’t, therefore you are number 16.
