Restructure- on your own terms

Have you experienced love at first sight?

I would like to say yes but the truth is I haven’t.

But what I do have is this.  I do remember catching a glimpse of someone in a busy crowd once in a pub at le Marais in Paris. I was seated alone at a table having a drink whilst my friend, Leigh was standing at the bar chatting with the barman and a few new found French friends. There was something about one particular stranger standing in the crowd about ten metres from me- his aura drew my attention to him. He was quiet and somewhat aloof amongst his friends, he was good-looking but not exceptionally handsome like M was (ironically, it was this same night at this same bar that M saw me, except I only had eyes for this Frenchman and only met M a week later).

My memory now seemed to have been frozen in time. Right now, all I can remember in my mind’s eye was that moment where our eyes met so coincidentally.  Then he noticed me. He looked somewhat shy (perhaps more aloof- I am always attracted to an aloof and quiet person).  Subsequently, our eyes met a few more times where I noticed he turned to look my way.

As always, it was one of those nights (Wednesday, my memory bank is now telling me- it is all coming back to me now!) where I was not expecting any action. Sad to say, I got more action than I bargained for later that night (a sorry, involuntary and unrelated incident which is now water under the bridge in my heart and mind).

Anyway, I have digressed.

What must be more than an hour of eyeing each other and him raising his glass with a smile and cocking his head slightly in acknowledgement of me and I think I must have smiled back and gestured for him to join me at my table, I found him seated right before my face.

His English was only slightly better than my French, which meant real communication was challenging. On top of that, we had the loud noise of music and crowd to contend with in a small and increasingly filled up pub. A live band started playing as the night grew darker.

We had to move closer towards each other at the table to hear each other better. I must have had a few mixed spirits and glasses of wine by that stage to give me a good buzz but not tipsy enough to lose my senses. I was simply enjoying the moment. I recalled thinking that he was quite a good-looking guy with brown eyes as I chatted to him. In his French accented English, I heard him say “You are beautiful.”  Then I don’t know how it happened, his mouth found his way to mine.

That kiss. That moment.

Magical. We had that joint moment.  

                        

I am one who always know when a moment is coming from the other party just that split second before a guy attempts to make those advances at me with a slight brush of my hand, an attempt at holding my hand, resting their hand on mine or boldly attempt to steal a kiss from my mouth which I would be quick to turn my face the other way. My hitherto dormant radar is then roused to activity and vigilance (especially so if I have no wish to join in the spontaneity). My intial response is always to shy away from the other person's attempted touch since I often only like or become infatuated with someone at second or even third sight (which I have begun to examine deeper and to arrive at the observation that my attraction to most of these people are a result of being reactive to their advances plus getting to know the person a bit better with a few further encounters) .

I didn’t resist with this stranger. Instead I eased into the moment and felt a warm, fuzzy feeling. Something lit up within me. I had a glow on my face, I was told later by Leigh. I did felt like that and was on cloud nine.

                                                                            ****

We only met once again after, the week before I left Paris for good.

I went to his studio apartment where he cooked me a nice, simple dinner where I brought a bottle of red wine with me. Then we went out to look for a second bottle where he piggy backed me to the liquor store where we bought another bottle of vin rouge from a Chinese man.

That night, we made sweet love on his futon bed, la vie en rose playing in the background (funnily how I always envisioned joire de vivre to be, French music in a Parisienne apartment). I have never so thoroughly enjoyed intimacy with a stranger. He was a great masseuse and most definitely the best cunning linguist I ever had in my life:)  I was so thoroughly pleasured as his wandering tongue and mouth continued to be thirsty for the mysterious sweet juice of my sex. We sure had rhythm and he slid into me ever so smoothly and our bodies moulded so perfectly together I wished we would never stopped and were perpetually physically connected like a pair of conjoined twins in our drunken ecstasy.  I would have been happy dying in that position. We were hungry for each other’s touch.

Je'taime beaucoup, beaucoup... we laughed and loved a lot for that one night.

 We must have fallen asleep together at some stage from the exhaustion of our physical exertion. I recalled me awaking up in the middle of the night and found his leg hooked over mine, a sleep position I was very fond of doing myself with DL (perhaps me being the more domineering person). Being a light sleeper who doesn’t do well of being physically weighed down or being cuddled as I always ended feeling restrained and uncomfortable, I was surprised that I wasn’t roused from my sleep with his weight on my leg.

He became awake shortly after I was awakened. He got up and gave me a back massage (which I really enjoyed since my shoulder blade area is constantly tight and sore) and even went as far as to go to his bathroom to fetch some moisturiser while he oiled and worked my sore back like a pro (I seriously think he is that good, given my one indulgence is massage and I have been to so many masseuse and he still to this day tops my list of top 3 ). And then we transited into another round of carnal indulgence and made our physical connection for one last time.

                                                                       ****

I never experienced a stronger physical connection with anyone else in my life.

It was physical chemistry at the purest.

Or "Body Language"-what one of my closest male buddy who has been my friend since I was six would say when we talked about boy-girl relationships when we were eleven ;p (Hmm, I wonder if he still remember saying that... I must ask him!)

The stars were aligned once for me. For the first time, I was attracted to someone voluntarily with no external influences- I was simply drawn to his entire being. Me setting my sights on a complete stranger (I was really just perving and definitely didn’t think he would look my way or for myself to be so thick skinned as to chat him up), him catching my eye, kissing this very stranger that I was allured to and then making such sweet love (or sex) with just the right mood and music and our bodies moulded so perfectly together.

It was indeed one of those magical moments in my life.

                                                                      ****

I feel like I have tasted the sweetest of nectar in Life’s garden of strange fruits.

We will never cross paths again (although it is ever so easy for me to find out where he is given today's technology).

I don’t think this sheerness of hedonistic pleasure captured in this one-off joint moment could ever be replicated in this lifetime.

But there are days where I am hopeful for that next big romantic love affair to come along where perhaps if I pray hope against hope, I may once again experience such sweet intensity. With every new lover that came after, this short chapter with my French stranger-lover continues to shadow play in my mind to hauntingly remind me that I have once delved deep into the sweetest mysteries of hedonistic life. It continues to reverberate into my life reminding me that the bar of physical intimacy and pleasure has been forever raised. Don't get me wrong- I did continue to experience orgasms in my intimate affairs with others (due to variety of reasons from willing myself to feel pleasured to the fact that the carnal enjoyment came from an emotional connection with that person) but in essence, there was something different from this. I have tasted Paradise oh so momentarily and suddenly, living on Earth just feels oh so blah.  Ichabod, I sometimes hear that ring of my inner voice mutter and sigh to the essence of that word. It does feel like the glory (or rather, my fire) has left the world and with a growing reclusive daily lifestyle, my libido too is dying a slow and natural death. 

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