I first met you at a tiny cafe that served awful coffee but was comfortable to me. Something about the walls in that place, something about the rough texture that I really liked. Often when I sat there alone, I would run my fingers along the uneven, grainy lines on the wall and it would feel pleasant.

You wanted to meet in the afternoon, which was strange to me because most men would conveniently want to meet for dinner and drinks. I usually have it all planned out, almost like a ritual. I ask the person to meet at this particular bar that I am familiar with and I always get there before they do. I order myself a whiskey-soda so that I am tipsy enough to bare sharing conversation with a complete stranger. When they finally arrive, I greet them with a big smile and a compliment. "You look great!" I'd say. They would be flattered and get comfortable. The date usually ends up with me sleeping with them and never calling them again. Sometimes, I do call but only to sleep with them again. Nothing more, nothing less.

So when you wanted to meet in the afternoon at a coffee shop, it threw me off guard. I was an anxious mess when I got there also because you had reached the café before I did. I do not remember most of our conversation that day because I was having an anxiety overdose through out our date but I do remember, that you were wearing a sky blue shirt because I had told you about my obsession with all the shades of blue. I remember talking about how bad the coffee was, making paper boats out of tissues and prolonged eye contact that made me more anxious and soothed me at the same time.

You were leaving the city for a couple months on the day after the day we met, so we decided to meet again the next day for a movie. It was a wonderful movie but the lounge chairs were too big and it felt like we were sitting so far apart. Every now and then, I would try to look at you from the corner of my eye and I'd laugh too when I would hear you laugh. I usually get dizzy when I stand after I have sat down for more than an hour, so I held onto your arm to prevent myself from falling when we were getting out of the movie theater. I took you to the bar I really liked and I had a couple of ***** drinks and you had a beer. I was tipsy soon and the candle at our table looked hazy, among other things.

We left the bar, swaying and laughing. "I don't want to go home yet." I told you. "Me neither." you said, looking into my eyes like you really meant it. I suggested we go to the beach. We did. I remember the calming sound of the ocean and your voice... It was a beautiful melange. We walked along the shore, back and forth, talking. "I really like your hands." I thought and maybe even said aloud, as I traced your palms with my fingertips. We kissed that night and before you dropped me home, you promised to meet me in the morning, the next day before you left for the airport.

I had lit candles at my tiny apartment and organized my journals and canvas boards, to make it seem a little tidy. We sat on my couch and awkwardly smiled at each other at intervals while we talked about random things. I remember us holding hands and talking, looking into each other's eyes. We made beautiful, blurry, enchanting love that evening. The room was filled with the low evening light from my window and the sound of us breathing. I loved every facet of the time I spent with you.

While we lay on the narrow bed, when you were holding my hand that was on your chest just minutes before we got dressed again and you left. You asked me if I would wait for you and I pondered about it for a moment before asking you if you wanted me to wait for you...

I am glad both answers were, yes.