You know how in the movie "Big Fish" they say that when you meet the love of your life, time stops? Well, I never believed it for a second. Sounded like a load of crap if you ask me. I just never met anyone who was all that remarkable. Or at least not to me.
Sure, I've met men who make me tongue-tied, or fidgety-nervous, or whom has given me nearly fatal cases of verbal diarrhea. But time never stopped. And I always wondered if there was something wrong with me.
So, two weeks ago I found myself out on Disaster Date #188. And somewhere between the watermelon martinis, the Dos Equis XX, and the drama, I texted an xBF – Mr. Big.
My message was simple but straightforward: "I think this life is killing me."
Of course I received a dutiful response asking what was going on. I was, at that moment, asking myself why I'd texted him in the first place. For starters, it was a moment of complete weakness, I admit. But I also remember thinking at that moment – between all the drama - that it would be helpful to go to my "happy place." And at that particular moment in time, HE was my happy place.
About a week later, he explained that he'd be in Atlanta for work, and asked me if I'd like to go to dinner. I figured it wouldn't hurt – it was just dinner with an old friend, right? So, I agreed to pick him up at the airport.
He'd indicated that he'd be at Vestibule S2, and I made my way through the arrivals lane. I was stuck behind a red minivan and couldn't see to the curb. I slowly inched forward, and glanced to the right. Suddenly, everything felt like it was happening in slow motion, and as I raised my eyes up toward the people standing on the curb, I spotted him immediately.
And time stopped.
And after what seemed like the longest of pauses, he got into the car and we headed to Midtown. I brought him by my place to check out Zoe – he'd been with me when I first met her at the greyhound track, and I wanted him to see how well she'd settled into her life as a Midtown Hound.
From there, we went to dinner at Bacchanalia. Fabulous place – if you're ever in Atlanta, I highly recommend that you check it out. But even more wonderful than the haute gastronomy was my company. And as we talked about old friends, horses, situations, and life in general, I just couldn't help but notice just how good he looked. In fact, he looked healthy, relaxed, and dare I say "happy." And I was happy. Happy for him – happy to be spending an evening with him.
But this story doesn't have a storybook ending.
In Big Fish, Ed Bloom gets the girl. But in my life, I don't get to have the guy. Because when it comes to the lapse in time – I think I'm the only one that noticed it. And I'm pretty sure that I'm the only one whose heart pitter pattered the moment he sat in my car.
And appropriately enough, on the ride back to my condo I heard the most fitting Johnny Cash song: "It ain't me babe, no no no - it ain't me you're lookin' for, babe."
And now time just drags by.