Its been a while, but it seems just like yesterday, when I was seated bored at a dinner table with friends. I for no apparent reason turn my head around, and there he was this tall, blonde, handsome stranger, wearing sunglasses strolling towards the table I was seated at. The only empty chair was next to me. My heart pounded while he sat next to me and introduced himself. I tried to avert my eyes away from him, trying not to catch his attention. I could not understand why my heart was racing and pounding so much. I tried to ignore him, engross myself in conversation with someone else, in order not to stare at him. I felt like I knew him, but yet I was sure I had never met him.
I avoided conversation for the most part that evening, because I knew that nothing sensible would come out of me. My worse fear came true, when the conversation turned towards the Indian food we were about to order. Most often my friends always turn to me for help in picking their food.
He turns to me and says, “can you recommend something for me”. I feel tongue-tied, the words barely escape my lips, but I did manage to tell him that everyone mistakes me for Indian, but I am not.
I seemed to have given him an opening to a conversation, because he is startled by the fact that I am not Indian and asks where I am from and he then explains to me how his dad had visited my country and still continues to talk about how much he enjoyed it. I sit there smiling, nodding my head, but barely listening as he talks. All I wanted was for my heart to stop racing.
He sits there nonchalant the rest of the evening, not saying much, to anyone, but just watching everyone around him. The food finally arrives and he says to me “try some of this, after all you recommended it”.
I wanted the evening to end, I did not like the way I was feeling towards this stranger seated next to me. When it was finally time to leave, he turns to me and says how he cannot wait to tell his dad that he met me and then asks me for my email address, my hands shaking I write it down. I know I will never hear from again. However, like a teenager, I keep checking my email every few minutes. I tell myself he is not going to write, but yet hoping that he would. Finally there it was an email from him, asking me to meet him for coffee.
Like a giddy teen I get dressed to meet him for coffee. Should I be early, should I be late, what do I say…thoughts just racing through my head.
I stand outside waiting and then I see him, taking long strides towards me, motorcycle helmet in his hand, smiling when he see’s me.
We sit talking over coffee for a few hours, when he suggests that we should walk around the area. While walking, he says to me “would you like to have dinner with me tonight”?