French Kiss involves 34 facial muscles. Regular kiss only 2.
/ language school’s leaflet
Here’s a story. Hard to say what kind of. It may look like a love story, but maybe it shouldn’t. Then it may look like easy drama. And maybe that would make sense. All I’m sure is that it’s a story of context creating coincidences.
For a long time I thought that my main poor mood’s reason is not having someone to be with. After broken relationships I was easily getting lonely in a way that was affecting my whole life-experiencing efficiency. This time it came to disastrous moments. After few intensive months of somehow enjoying single’s life, the old lonely song came back to my head. My depression and anxiety were pushing harder and harder. It seemed impossible for me to communicate with people, I was too convinced that we all speak in different individual languages, never meant to understand each other fully. I felt isolated and uncomfortable with that. I lost my social skills and interests. I got bored and tired of staying in touch, keeping the contacts, hanging around. To create some innovation in my life, I tried seeing ‘safe-appearing’ tinder guys, which turned out to be a more or less fun to pass some time now and then. This was also the reason why I bumped into a love of my life.
N. The French guy. My friends had a chance to make some fun of it and they were partly right about that. Earlier in my tinder career I have already met a French guy once. It was quite terrible and absolutely followed the stereotype of romance-seeking and charming but insolent Jean-Pierre. Merely visible spot in my memory now. But I don’t believe that much in categories and for some reason I really felt that this time I had met someone different, maybe special. Our chat was short and looked typical for me, but then after those few sentences N. seemed to notice some things about me that noone normally would just from a short chat. Not everyone notice those traits even in real life. And he said he liked it! I was super excited about the meeting, like never before. I already knew how to organize those tinder rendezvous. So I set an appointment with someone else (less convincing, less stressful) before seeing N., so that I could burn my stress at this former guy and feel more loosely later.
It was late evening when we met at the bus stop. I instructed him how to easily get there and waited. We didn’t have this embarrassing moment of not recognizing each other. So our real life story began with a warm smile like we would have never seen each other but felt like should. From this very beginning I felt free and comfortable talking to him, which appeared as a great relief for me after weeks of avoiding talking to anyone. He was nice, vividly interested, really friendly. I would say – he was super normal. And I don’t mean ordinary! I mean normal like just right person to be somehow in my life. As the conversation was moving I felt like maybe our languages do have quite much in common. I only knew that this huge load of positive impressions is way far from my everyday experience and that I might not handle it well. So we smoked some weed. And then talked and talked and talked. “We should totally meet again before I leave”. Oh yes, we should, N., yes we should…
And we did. At first I had some trouble contacting N. After promising to text me same day, next day, day after, he didn’t do so. I was super stressed and uncertain. Usually I wouldn’t pay this much attention to this, as I never cared about those second meetings (dates?), it wasn’t about that for me. But this time I felt like it’s the only thing in the world that I finally want maybe even more than disappearing from this world. It was a chance for having someone who understands me, who I can write a letter to, who I can see in few weeks or months again and have a great time with. After a relative eternity, N. texted me, explained the silence, promised to text me soon. It was a New Year’s Eve – that was why he was in my city. The whole party was extremely hopeless for me. I was losing control over my mind and maybe even body, acting like a beginner lunatic. I cried and slept for the most of the nigh while my apartment was drowning in wild bounce and noise of people on drugs and alcohol. I didn’t ask fate for another year to begin. But it did. With no hope for me.
When I was already quite sure that N. should be on his flight to France, I got a text, crazy story of losing everything including the flight. “So could we meet again as I leave tomorrow?” Oh yes, please. We spend a nice evening together at my friend’s room, drinking cider and talking. I invited N. to sleep at my place, as he didn’t have the accommodation for this last night. So he stayed. After some time of talking we were already tired and we needed to get up in the morning for his flight, so we turned on movie to watch and maybe fall asleep in the meantime. I was too exhausted so I turned, said goodnight and closed my eyes feeling like sleeping is the worst waste of time, but still happy that he is around.
He was right next to me. I felt his warmth and a sweet scent only few inches against my face. We weren’t touching each other but I felt safe and calm. There was also some magnetic field between us. We weren’t distinctly moving but we were definitely getting closer. The space shrunk. To the kiss.
The explosion of affection that came with it was incredibly flawless. Everything felt so good and was never enough. We were kissing and hugging like already missing each other. The control was unwanted, but needed. We exchanged careful and sensitive touches. Our lips coalescence was filled with mutual sense and understanding. We didn’t discover everything about us, like saving it for the future. This hint of what we can have together was much more than expected, enough for the moment and not enough for all time. It was a promise of something.
After we woke up the next day, we had a Sundance style morning with some winterly cool sunlight and hands holding in the bus to the airport. The goodbye still kept the impression of a new beautiful chapter in my life. And he was gone. I did the worst thing watching him leaving until he disappeared in the crowd. My bus run away, I stayed there some more time, cried few tears, feeling empty. At the beginning, we wrote to each other few messages. He even dropped some words like “would rather be with you now” or “got attached”. Well, I need to make it clear now. Cause that is why I didn’t call it love story just like that – it wasn’t really one for me. I felt huge attraction, maybe even crush. But I have a great sense of reality sometimes, you know. I wasn’t expecting that he will be my long-distance husband from now on. Besides the fascination, still the best thing for me about him maybe staying in my life was this thread of understanding. It was a moment when I felt welcome to tell him about the tiniest thing, no matter if sad or funny, relevant or stupid. I thought I found a soulmate in him. It didn’t have to be eternal love, I knew that. Friendship would do. But suddenly something had changed and within a week or so, by next few messages I understood that probably it would be much more convenient for N. if I stopped bothering him. So I did. And nothing more happened.
Okay, fine. Misunderstandings and disappointments are an everyday thing for me after all. There was some regret and sadness in me, but I wasn’t that surprised. The case was closed, no big deal. Go live your life, don’t pay attention, forget. Routine.
And this is where my struggle started. We all know it. Sudden appearance of smallest things like if they were some kind of sings from the universe. Fate and perception making a fool of you. Oh, you’re coming back home late at night, it’s raining cats and dogs and your only bus run away? Don’t worry, go and have this French dictionary abandoned by your destiny right on your way. Going for a walk? Yeah, let’s go and see all those French posters and graffiti that wasn’t here before. Hello, this is memrise, why did you stop doing your French course from months ago, you should definitely move back to that. Forgot about the registration for lectures? Don’t worry, I have got this one thing left for you – French literature. You hadn’t planned to be here at this moment, I see, you were supposed to be somewhere else, but because of reasons, yeah, there you go – French anything. Coincidence? No, no, no… Oh, you like smoking weed? So you probably know how to… French. Inhale.
Well, and this is how my life got infused with French vibe. End of story. But you know. Since I’m a stoner girl I see weed everywhere too. 😉