I come back home after a long day at work. I take off my clothes and have something to eat before I go online. I sit in bed with my laptop and open both my MSN and Facebook accounts to check the usual amount of notifications and instant messages. Among the Facebook messages, I find one from a complete stranger called Harry saying he finds me rather interesting and comments on my taste in movies and books. I reply thanking him, telling him I am surprised he took time to check my whole profile, and a conversation starts. We talk about our hobbies and interests, and I find we have a lot of things in common.
I take an interest in this mysterious guy so I add him to my MSN contacts list, thinking that for the first time, I have found an actually decent guy online, since I am not the type who is into meeting people through online social networks.
We chat for hours the first day, and I go to sleep, elated at to my new discovery, and I think about the connection I just had with the stranger. I wake up the next day thinking about him, and I instantly log on my Facebook to see if he had sent me any messages. He has not. Feeling slightly disappointed, I shower and get dressed and I go to work. When I come back, I find myself waiting for him to go online. When he does, we chat for hours non-stop.
Days go by and we keep on talking about the most unpredictable of things: about life, nature, philosophy, cinema, literature and everything I’ve never imagined myself discussing with one person. I feel myself getting attached to this Harry guy.
We finally exchange phone numbers, and decide to meet in person.
We meet in De Prague- Hamra. He is not what I have expected physically, but cute nonetheless: Sparkling eyes, and a smile that brightens the sun. We talk about movies mostly, and I find myself fascinated at how much our tastes match. There isn’t a movie that I love that he doesn’t. He tells me about his dreams, about wanting to become the next Tim Burton and conquer the world by making movies, and his grandiose ambition draws me closer to him being the dreamer that I am. Just before that day, I have been the talkative type who confesses his longings, ambitions and aspirations. But with him, I just want to listen… And I would listen for hours only if the clock stops ticking, leaving me with this beloved stranger for a couple of eternities. But time is never your ally when you most need it.
My insides ache as we walk to his car. I tell myself that I like him, but realise that confessing would end things. I hope that he likes me too.
We get into his car, and he drives me home.
I do not take my clothes off. I just lie on my bed with butterflies in my stomach… Could he be feeling the same thing?
I stare at my phone: Do I text him? Or do I wait for him to text me?
I keep staring at the phone for minutes that seem like hours…
[…to be continued]