Showing posts with label meeting someone in a bar. Show all posts
Showing posts with label meeting someone in a bar. Show all posts

Jan 1, 2015


He kissed me and nothing made sense - nothing about it was normal - everything about it was bliss.

We had met that afternoon at an espresso bar in Old Montreal on a sleepy Sunday when you don't want to leave your place or even get out of bed but as the day lingers on; you want to connect with someone - you want to leave so you can bring someone back with you.

I found myself doing the same thing, reading, writing, wondering when I was going to find the missing piece to the puzzle that had become my sunken love life.

He was lost in his sketch book and I was lost on my empty sheet of paper. 

We struck up a conversation and quickly moved our way through various topics including our past relationships, our jobs - his as a painter and mine as a writer.

He had sandy brown hair that he pulled back from his face only for it to fall back in place within seconds. His eyes were blue and he had a cleft in his chin that I wanted to nibble.

He held my hand from under the table stroking his fingers across the life lines of my palm. An hour passed and then two as the afternoon turned into early evening and as both of us knew we were leaving together.

My place was close by. We fell through the door in each other's arms undressing quickly while our tongues danced and our bodies collided the way bodies do when there is no turning back.

I smelled his cologne melting into my pores, the warmth of his lips waltzing along my neck, my breasts, down, down.

We made love in silence aside from the humming of the radiator. Time was sweet, time was sacred.

When it was over he kissed my eyelids and held me close against his chest where I felt his heart beat, where I felt safe.

It was as if we were suspended in air with all the day to day life uncertainties and challenges wallowing below unable to reach us - unable to disrupt our place in time.

I thought of how most of us live on a daily basis  disconnected at work spending more time with our co-workers than we do with the ones we love - worrying about money and health and relationships and change.

And the secrets we all think we have managed to lock away hidden under our sleeves that still manage to appear plainly visible through the lines on our faces and the depths of our souls.

There is that connection that we all long for - one that makes us feel wanted and needed and surrounds us with love and acceptance, warmth and certainty. 

And as I watched him sleep in my bed, I knew that he would soon be leaving through the same door we had entered intertwined as if we were meant to be together in some other place in time.

I slid under the covers and woke him up with kisses  that traversed down his chest all the way to where we would connect again - once, twice and then he was gone.

Peacefully and fulfilled I fell into a deep slumber as my eyelashes dreamed deliciously of a strangers wet beautiful lips kissing them ever so gently. 

I was less alone and more alive and that was all I could have hoped for. I knew sunrise would come and I would start all over again in search of a connection - one that would flow through me to someone else and with any luck - back again like a boomerang that never loses its sense of direction -  taking off into the air, always returning to that hopeful soul who stands there believing it will.

Jan 12, 2014

A Night With A Stranger

I couldn’t sleep.

I found myself sitting on the side of my bed – a familiar place, lost, alone and wondering how my life had gone so off track.

I needed to escape the four walls of the small loft that had become my living space but not my home.

I closed the cage to the elevator and took a left out of my building and then a sharp right onto St. Laurent.

I made my way to an all-night diner for people like me who find themselves wide awake while everyone else sleeps. All members of a club with no name and only one rule; don't judge because there is a very thin line between me being you and you being me.

I was in need of comfort food. I was in need of a gentle hand stroking my back and a soft reassuring voice saying "it's all going to be alright". 

And as much as it scared me, I knew what I was really there for - I needed to hold someone and be held. I needed to spend time with someone who knew nothing about me and who wouldn't ask the questions everyone asks.

I needed someone to stay without leaving and leave without staying.

Two stools down the counter, sipping coffee and reading an old messed up copy of “Beautiful Losers” by Leonard Cohen; sat a attractive man with salt and pepper hair. He was wearing a white t-shirt, faded Levis and Converse runners. His arms were graced in tattoo half sleeves, his biceps defined, his veins alert.

The funny thing is when two people know exactly what they want without all the bullshit and guessing; it takes very little time to make it happen. 

So with very few words, we left the diner and headed back to my place.

It was raining.

We were soaked to the skin by the time we arrived so we undressed immediately and met in the middle of the futon.

He kissed me with full lips as his tongue explored my mouth. I kissed his neck and moved my way along his body.

I smelled him the way you smell someone the first time you are naked with them – breathing heavily, bare and beautiful.

I tasted him - sweet and smooth.

We rocked back and forth, his hands gently caressing me as if we had been lovers for years caring for one another whenever the world was cruel.

The barter complete, in each other's arms, no prying into the other's life, no judgment or assumptions, nothing but two people breathing in and out.

We fell asleep, our hearts beating in unison - masters of our souls. 

An hour passed and we began again.

A rhythmic waltz transcending our minds to a much better place away from the noise simmering everything down to a whisper.

He held me closely and carefully as if he would never let me go. Awakened were parts of ourselves that otherwise would sleep in a dark oblivion.

We hugged, kissed, sipped coffee and smiled with little to say sitting upward on the couch now disconnected, barely co-existing.

He kissed me one last time and vanished behind the closed door as if it never opened.

For those few hours he made me feel whole, the scent of him still in my pores, the suds unable to wash him away. 

I fell asleep wishing he was still holding me - his taste still upon my tongue - all the while knowing I would wake up the next morning on empty again.

So I say this to you - reading - 

This never happened to me except for once or twice in another place and time. Maybe this is your story as much as it is mine.

In the beginning or the middle and certainly in the end




For someone to come and reveal a slice of light

Upon our lonely blank canvas

If even for a moment

In our darkest hour


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