Facebook love story (part 3)

[...]Luckily, we didn't live far away from each other. We decided that she would come to see me. I don’t know about her, but I made all the preparations as if I was celebrating 10 years of a real relationship, imagining I knew her so well I could have asked her to marry me on the spot.

Everything was in place: at a quarter to 7 in the evening I was seated in a nice pub,  waiting for her to come: flowers were in place as well as emotions. And she arrived. It was exactly as I’ve imagined, only… my mind went blank. I barely got up and offered her the flowers I’ve brought and I went numb. There I stood in front of the woman of my late dreams and I couldn’t bring myself to say anything. I felt drained. I felt empty. I felt like a squashed lemon. It seemed that all that was important had already consumed, that we’re only witnessing the end of the first act of our relationship. The first act of a play which hadn’t started yet. It appeared to me that, somehow, the real life started to lack flavour. What the hell was wrong with me? I had to pull myself together.  There she was, right in front of me: my girl, my toy, my fantasy, my reason to spend entire nights at my computer, the reason to live.

 “Hi, A.!”

“Ummm, hi.

 “Get your shit together, man”, I told myself, “become the fearless A., the tender yet strong A., the polite yet inflexible A., the A. she admires, she wants, she'd missed, right here, right now!”

“Is there anything wrong?” she asked as she looked around.

“No, it’s all fine…ummm, nothing; welcome, please sit with me.” I took her coat, held her chair and then sat right in front of her and looked her in the eye.

“Finally”  - I said, “we meet in the flesh; you look a lot prettier than in all those pictures I’ve seen – there’s a strange electricity in your look.”

‘Giggles’ – “A, you are the charmer I always knew you’d be: delightful from the very first sight”.

The rest of is lost for me, actually it’s a blur I’ve lived so many times: compliments, charming and witty words to her pleasure, stories about our lives, sweet little nothings: all echoing May, May, May, May. All this perceived as foreplay. I didn’t even have to ask her to come to my place. We just found ourselves naked in my bed. We did it twice. The first time hastily, without any attention to details, it was a raw fuck, animals possessing each other on the brink of all that’s left of civilization, two intense flames devouring each other into becoming one. Then we had to rest for while. The second time, we've simply let our bodies discover each other: the scents, the touches, the hair, the thrill.    

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