Sunday, September 20, 2009

Leaving the Vintage

Sarajane was on my left, he was on my right. We reached the top of the stairs, heading out into the cold night. I don't remember it being January. I remember him putting his hand on my waist at the top of the stairs as we were putting an end to our first meeting. We were all laughing and it was bright outside, in spite of the hour. The parking lot was glowing as the light from the street lamps bounced off of the snow. I hugged him goodbye and told him to call.

It was a Saturday night.

We were on our fourth date and were walking down the stairs again for our third kiss goodnight. He walked me to my car and my hands found his and held them around me. He didn't give an inch of space between us as he tried to persuade me to go home with him. I wanted to, of course, but it wasn't time yet. Instead, I kissed him, barely noticing the way the street lamps made the snow look like we were standing on the moon.

It was a Thursday night.

The party went by in a blur as I played with my friends and he walked about, finding conversation with people he knew and starting conversation with people he didn't. I always had some awareness of his presence so I could find him when I wanted to leave. Even though the party was far from over, there came a moment when I couldn't wait anymore and I walked over to him and told him I was ready to go. He had to finish his beer and I waited, hiding my impatience by talking to friends. At some point I noticed he had finished and was still in animated conversation with people whose faces I did not recognized. Not caring about the rules, I went to him, leaned in as close as I could and said, "Let's go." That night when we walked down the stairs, it was the last as two people dating.

It was a Saturday night.

Thereafter, any time I've spent at the Vintage, with or without him, has been as a person who has someone. My trips to the Vintage have waned in frequency and I'm not sure if it's because I'd rather be with my someone outside of all of that or if it's because of an increased awareness of the time and space between me and my friends. I do know that there's something still so new about every time I remember my exits.

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