I woke up from a knock at my door. I got up so giddily. You came just right on time to wake me up. From my bed to the doorstep, all I could think of is our first breakfast together. Alas, I opened the door and I found myself face to face not with you but with the housekeeping. My heart sunk.
I want to wake up to you, I want to wake up from your whisper, from your fingers as it draw the line of my face. I want to wake up from your tickles. I want to wake up from your snore! I thought by now you would have found me, but writing this goes to show that you haven’t yet.
I went back to the same beach with Sophy today and it is ridiculous how time goes by even when you’re not doing anything. I guess this is the curse that holiday brings. Sophy and I practically spent the entire day at the beach talking about you–how it would be like to finally meet you, how it would feel to have your hand clasped with mine as we walk along the shore. We wondered if you were the guy sitting next to our table because you kept looking at me. But now I’m definite that he wasn’t you. If he was, then he would have at least put an effort in introducing himself to me. If he was you, then we would have been celebrating right here right now.
Sophy and I saw a couple kissing by the water. Such a cute couple, and I should feel happy for them, but instead, I feel a pang of jealousy. I can’t help but think that it could have been us.
There were lots of guys on the beach today–kite surfers, solo travelers. They come from all over the world–France, Poland, America, Sweden. It makes me wonder what you are like and where you are from. Do you kite surf by any chance? How many languages do you speak? What is your native tongue? Do you even like the sea?
Maybe you don’t and this is the reason why you are not here. It makes sense. Maybe you are the kind of guy who would rather climb the mountains than have a lazy day by the Red Sea. Maybe you like to spend more time on the couch playing video games. Maybe you’d rather play football with your mates. But then again, if we are going to be together, I assume that we will mesh like water and sand.
Who are your favorite authors? Do you like comedy? Are you a coffee person? Heck, maybe I am asking the wrong questions. What sports do you play? What is your favorite football team? Do you watch Game of Thrones?
You could be a guitarist for all I know. You could be a hockey player, an engineer, a web developer. You could be a professional motor racer. You could be a chef. Oh, please be a chef! I love eating! But then again, even if you’re not a chef, I’m sure the simplest peanut butter and jelly sandwich will taste divine if you’re the one who made it.
Do you smoke? I hope you don’t mind if I do. What is your tolerance when it comes to alcohol? Four beers? Maybe six? If you ask me, I’d rather down six cups of espresso!
Speaking of drinking, I got so drunk tonight. I don’t know how it even happened. I had one Bailey-Kahlua shot, just one! And poof! I was gone! Well, I made a whole scene before I was gone. Poor Sophy had to endure the trail of mess I left behind. Again, it could have been you who’d clean up after my mess, or who’d prevent the mess from even happening.
Now when I think about it, it would have been rather embarrassing if you have seen me. You might have to actually carry me back home. I don’t know if you will laugh at me in that situation, or if you would rather run away from me. It makes me wonder if you actually saw me. Oh, for goodness’ sake I hope not, because that girl who threw up everywhere, barefooted, and without poise? Yes, that’s me. Guilty. Now I’m afraid I’d scare the shit out of you.
I want to know your deal breakers. I want to know what peeves you so I can avoid pushing the wrong button. I want to know if we both can live up to each other’s expectation. Please tell me that we will work it out. What would we call each other? Habibi? Babe? Hun? Sweetheart? Mahal? Boss? Cupcake?
I’m sorry. I know that I am going way ahead of myself again. We haven’t even met yet here I am looking out in our future. I am turning into the biggest cheese ball every second and I can’t help myself. I get too excited just thinking about the possibility of you.
Will I sound creepy if I say that I keep a list of things I want to do when I meet you? I want to go on a holiday together. Maybe we can take a cruise to Luxor. I want to cook for you, I want to cook with you. I want to rock guitar hero with you. I want to go around the city with you. I want to get drunk with you. I want to get high with you.
Ok, you can totally pretend I didn’t mean that last bit on my list, just in case you come from a conservative background.
There are so many things that I do with my friends that I wish I could do with you. It could have been you I went horse riding with. It could have been you I went smoking shisha with. It could have been you I spent hours talking to.
Will I be able to recognize you when I meet you? Will you be able to recognize me when you see me? I know I have already asked too many questions, but this is actually the biggest question I have in my mind. How are we going to know that it’s you, that it’s me? Will it just feel right, and easy, and unforced, and perfect? Or will it be awkward, and scary, and confusing?
It can be all of these things, or none of these things. But I hope that when we see each other eye to eye, we will just know. I have been living a while not knowing, and it will make a big difference if, for once, we would finally know.