First Move

I'm almost done with my coffee. My brain is now suffereing from nicotine overload. It has been nearly two hours and I find myself still waiting in this coffee shop. It's a good thing I brought along a book, something to keep my mind off him.

I saw him just this afternoon inside the chat room that I was checking out. He had his webcam on. So, naturally, I imposed my presence on him and didn't bother to ask permission if I can take a peek. Surprisingly, he willingly obliged. After a click of the mouse and a couple of seconds, an image appeared. I was not instantly taken by his looks (he was not impressively good looking). But it was the aura of manliness that he exuded, his confidence, and the intensity in his eyes, which caught my attention. His image made such an impact that I immediately sent him a private message. "You seem very manly. Too bad you're very far from where I am right now. I'd love to have coffee with you sometime." Clicked "send" and off my message went. Was I expecting a reply? Of course. And as if in response to my expectation, one immediately came: "asl and stats pls". Jesus Mary and Joseph, the classic reply. "28, male, not within your zip area." That should jolt his brain cells. "30, male, I'll be within your zip area this evening. Is the invitation still open?" Floored. I was simply floored.

And so here I am, drowning myself in caffeine, enacting a scene that has been played out by so many people, so many times, and in so many places: the classic "eye ball". His last call indicated that he was 10 minutes away from the coffee shop. I told him that I was sitting at the farthest end of the smokers' area, with a book, and 3 ash trays filled to the brim. He just laughed. A taxi passed by. Then another. And another. Why am I counting the cabs passing by? Am I too anxious to see him in person? Maybe I should just get up and leave. Although he did say he's on his way. Amidst these thoughts, the combined effects of caffeine and nicotine, plus the din here at the coffee shop, a taxi pulled over.

I saw him already, at the corner of my eye, as he alighted from the taxi. Being the pompous prick that I am, I simply gazed in the other direction. Dark blue polo, snug fit jeans, neatly combed hair, wet look. Was that a bag? Yes, it's a mailman's bag. About the same height, same girth, same stance. I already saw him walking towards me but I insisted on taking the last puff of my cigarette. "Hello", he said and immediately sat down. In the spirit of being polite and courteous, I said, "You look very harassed, would you like a cup of coffee or water?" "It's ok, I'm fine" was his firm reply. "Would you like to stay here or go somewhere else?" I curiously asked. "Actually, I'm a bit hungry. Let's look for something to eat." And with that, I led him to my car. His presence was so overwhelming, his masculinity was oozing out of his pores. I was hypnotized and entranced by his confidence and decisivenes. This is not a democracy.

"Aren't you going to eat?"

"I'm not hungry, thank you. So tell me something about yourself."

"What's there to tell? I'm more interested in knowing you"

"You first."

"I work in a hospital. I take care of the sick."

"A good samaritan, very good."

"It's a living, I can't complain. What about you?"

"Researcher, pretty boring stuff."

"Why don't you eat? Would you like to taste this?"

"Don't do that, people might think we're on a date or something."

"It's okay, don't be bothered by what they'll think or say."

"You're pretty sure of yourself, aren't you?"

"Is there any other way of living your life than by being sure of yourself."

Floored, yet again.

It was already past midnight and all the day's work is slowly catching up with my body.

I asked him, "Is it okay if we go now? I'm really sleepy and you have a long way to go before reaching your destination."

And his reply, "Let's not leave yet. I still want to know more about you."

Am I hearing this correctly?

"I really need my nicotine fix, would you mind terriby if we go now?"

"You know, that thing will kill you."

"I know. I've been trying to quit. But i need someone to tell me that I should stop smoking."

"Stop smoking."

The ride to the bus station was fast. Small talk. Nothing earth shattering. Then suddenly, as I shifted gears, my hand accidentally brushed his left leg.

"Sorry about that. Don't want you to get the impression that I'm hitting on you."

"That's okay."

"You know, you should be very careful when you say 'it's okay'. A person might construe that as a willingness on your part to be taken advantaged of. Just like me. By hearing those words, I might get the idea that it's okay for me to take advantage of you."

"Fine by me."

Awkward laughter to an invitation. Must focus on driving.

As I stopped my car in front of the bus station, I shook his hand and said, "It was nice meeting you. Give me a call if you're in town again. I'll buy you two bottles of beer." While saying these words, his grip became tighter and tighter. His eyes were staring at mine, the intensity of which was so palpable, so thick, that it nearly knocked me off. Without saying a word, he let go of my hand, opened the door and began to descend from my car. But before completely getting out, he suddenly looked back at me. For a split second, he went back in, closed the door, grabbed my nape with his left hand, and kissed me on the lips. I felt his stubbles hit my chin. I felt his left hand caressing my nape. I felt his chest heaving over mine. Without saying a word, he opened the door, went out of the car, closed it behind him, and waved goodbye at me. All I could say was, "Take care on your way home" and hurriedly drove my car and turned right in a street corner the general direction of which is a mystery to me.

Still intoxicated by the kiss, I immediately lighted a cigarette and puffed its contents to make sure that what just happened was real. As the nicotine ran through my lungs, I made a decision to stop the car. If I don't, I would definitely end-up in tomorrow's newspaper. ("Car crash caused by unexpected good night kiss") I grabbed my phone and started composing a text message: "Meeting you is such a delight. It even comes with a good night kiss. I contemplated on bringing you to a not-so-well-lit place but decided against it because you might hit my face." Before sending it, I received a new message. It was him. "Take care on your way home." It was a completely different message from him, independent of what I sent. And so I waited, trying to figure out where I am and how to find the best route home. Three minutes, five minutes, ten minutes passed. He did not respond. Before losing my mind, I turned up the volume of my stereo and lit another cigarette. He's not going to respond. He's not going to call. I will never see him again. What happened tonight was just a fleeting moment, an event between two people whose paths will never cross again.

And then my phone began to make a sound, signalling that I have an incoming message.

"The bus is about to leave. I was just waiting for you to make the first move."