No amount of drama could curtail his interest in dating new women.
He had a certain charisma that pulled them from anywhere near his orbit into the gravity of his confident sweet talk and infectious humor, launching a new trajectory into the heavens and past Venus, that ultimately descended into the chaos of a celestial collision.
Sometimes he pondered whether the charm was innate, or an unconscious mutual interaction inspired only by women who were predisposed to the adventure. Was he the sun, radiating allure, or merely a mirror, reflecting their own desires?
Tonight, at a dimly lit jazz bar, he spotted her — infinite dark eyes and a smile that could eclipse the moon. Her name was Lila, a nurse with a passion for natural health and an interest in the occult. She laughed at his quips with a spark that felt like destiny. Their banter flowed and soon they were dancing, her hand in his, their motions harmonious and free. In such a short while he felt like he had known her forever.
As the night waned, Lila’s gaze sharpened. “You’re a wanderer.” She wasn’t accusative, but her lighthearted words pierced him like an astronomer adjusting a telescope to bring a hidden nebula into focus. He grinned, deflecting with a joke, but her eyes, kind as they were, flipped his universe. What else did she see?
They spoke of personal paths, chance encounters and shared a few more laughs before she said it was time to go.
“Can I get your number?” He winced at the eagerness in his voice.
“Not tonight.” She smiled over her shoulder, slipped through the crowd, and was out the door, leaving him immobilized. He wrestled with the dichotomy of a connection so sincere versus a rejection that shook his core, however graciously presented. What had he missed?
After a few strangers inadvertently bumped him closer to reality, he shook his head, as if waking from a daze.
He meandered outside — the cool air a jolt. The stars above seemed to pulse, mocking him as a crowd of friends might make fun of one of their own being too tipsy to see straight.
Then his phone buzzed — a message from a woman he’d met last week. For a fleeting instant, his lips curved into a smile. It seemed the heavens would spin on. Yet he was compelled to not answer. Perhaps he still hadn’t fully shaken the daze or was caught up in an enchantment he was failing to grasp. He yearned to know more about Lila, but he had a haunting suspicion that what he really needed to know, was more about himself — as if somehow the center of his own orbit wasn’t a solar magnet, but a constellation of winsome fragments needing to coalesce into a singular star.
by George Alger
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