I can’t do anything without thinking about him. I go to yoga hoping it will help clear my mind, but I end up on the floor, holding myself, sad about how I used to go there to daydream about him.
When we first met, I thought about him quite a bit. I would wonder what the boy upstairs was up to, trying to remember what he had looked like. Contemplating whether he might like yoga, or maybe just going to the gym. I would take baths and hear him in the apartment above me, I would think, maybe, just maybe he was thinking about me and I would drift off to sleep all cuddled up in bed with the same thoughts.
Over time these became our things, I would come home from yoga, so excited about the new pose that I had mastered and tell him stories about the people in my class. We would take baths together, his legs entwined in mine while we look at each other from across the tub; smiling, laughing mostly, sometimes serious, and once sad.
We would crawl into bed together, cuddle for a while, and go to our separate sides of the bed where we would drift off to sleep while softly touching our feet.
I can’t help but think that this summer was a dream, it was so real and vivid. I was engulfed in the fun, excitement, and love. It was one of the best dreams I have ever had, but it came to a rushing halt and disappeared once I was shaken awake from him leaving.
We met at work, the other co-ops brought me around to meet people who I may be working with and he was the first person they brought me to. He was so flustered when I had met him, his desk scattered with different circuit boards and many papers. He was nice though and shook my hand.
Later that night as I was unpacking my things and trying to get moved in, I heard a knock at my door. “Hello?” “Uh, hi, I’m Joe, your upstairs neighbor. I’m having some people over on Friday and I wanted to give you my number in case we got too loud.”
Oh shit, I probably looked like a mess with my hair everywhere and an old oversized sweatshirt on. “Thanks, but I won’t be here, you don’t have to worry about being too loud.” I grab the torn envelope with his number on it. “Have fun” and I close the door. Oh man that guy was cute, totally Richmond’s type.
I look at the groupchat I had been added to earlier in the day, and realize that there is a guy named Joe who invited all of us to a gathering at his place. Is this the same Joe? I add him on Snapchat and head to bed.
Who Knew? 