Connection

I want a transcendent connection. I want someone to remember me so fondly, one moment was long enough to send them searching for more. Maybe I’ll be the person beside them on a spin bike, with calves toned to kill. Or the man that dirty danced just long enough to drive them wild. Perhaps I’ll smile at the grocery and that image will linger long after they’ve checked out. I imagine someone searching, just as I’m waiting to be found.

        What happens if I miss the moment though? The one that was somehow, perhaps incontrovertibly, ours. Will you move on to someone else? Are there other sidewalk muses waiting to excite you? You’re a fairly attractive man, with what seemed like an affable demeanor and brilliant eyes in the seconds that I knew you. Unless, that is, you’ve changed since then. Change, you know: the buzzword of our hyperlocal, globalized world. We’re all either changing too much, or not enough. Not enough to remain competitive anyway, for strangers in passing linger but one day, if that, before distraction leads us away. I’m the same way, short attention span and shorter expiration date, so I want to be remembered in an immediate sense. Putting me further in the past would make my person better or worse than I am through hindsight. The present is where what we shared matters. It’s where we belong.

        The next time you saluer from the champ or comment on my hair at McDonalds, stop. Drop everything else and we’ll build a life together, extending this present as long as we can. We’ll have amazing sex, the kind where your bodies fit together perfectly and every insecurity only makes the other person more real and that much more lovable. We can talk about all the other connections that came first; the ones that weren’t built to last, that didn’t transcend our bourgeois ballet. The distractions will fade to reveal how things where we are, in that moment, are perfect. There’s no one else to miss, so hold onto me now, not in passing.