By Laurel Ahlfeld
Date: 2008 Dec 02
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[[2008.12.02.01.02.3020]]

Kissing the Wrong Man

The first time I noticed him, it was freezing out. It was the night before Thanksgiving, and I had agreed to meet up with a former flame for a drink. I'd invited along a girlfriend to keep me from making any stupid decisions. I was off-again with my current on-again off-again boyfriend, but I didn't want that to cause me to do anything I'd regret. I was waiting impatiently in front of the pub, chatting to a long distance friend about how my friends here were always late. She tried to talk me into going inside alone, but I knew my unrequited lust was there sitting at the nearest table waiting for us to arrive. I saw the elbow of his familiar jacket through the glass doors upon approaching. So, I opted for standing out in the cold, misty night instead. She asked how things were with my current situation, and I expressed my unhappiness. She asked what I was going to do about it. I said, "Anything I want." And then he walked outside, a cigarette in one hand blowing hot, smoky breath into the cold night. He huddled against the building for warmth, slowly, deliberately texting on his phone with one free hand. I'd seen him before in passing or working behind the bar, but I'd never noticed him like this before. His eyes caught the light of the street lamps as he stared, focused on the numbers and buttons in front of him. There was something charming about his earnest struggle with technology. My friend kept chatting away on the other end, but I don't remember what was said. I was captured by his every movement. I watched him smoke so carelessly like a hurried man. It was different than the other boys in this town that smoked to be noticed, to soothe something deeper than a nicotine fix. But he held his cigarette tightly between only thumb and index finger. Quickly exhaling through the side of his mouth, eyes still fixed on the back lit screen in front of him. He hastily finished, flicked the embers onto the concrete below, hit send, and took off into the night on foot. I watched him walk away. There was something about him that made me want to be near him, to know him. Yes, I'd seen him before, but not like this. My eternally late girlfriend rounded the corner, we went in for drinks, she left early, I kissed the wrong man, and I couldn't shake the right one from my head that night. I haven't been able to since.