I met you at the Underground Village in NYC on a Satuday night. I smiled at you and you brushed my arm as the night started getting rowdy. We started dancing innocently at first and then you started coming on to me. I tried to get away, for fear that it might make me seem like a terrible person in the eyes of my friends. Instead, as all best friends do, they told me to fuck off and go dance with you. We got a little dirty, a little grindy, you asked me my name and where I was from. You were Mick from Queens, NY. Let’s get out of here you said but I was not about to leave my friends to go off with a local guy in a city I know hardly nothing about, you understand. You gave me your number instead I tried to call it so it would be saved. I forgot that we were Underground, the call failed, and I thought nothing of it. You told me I was beautiful. You said I was perfect. Bullshit I told myself, but I guess it’s nice to hear and it feels good to be attractive. I kept calling you cute and acting like a dork. I had never really done this before. We danced some more, the sexual tension was too much for me. I had to let you go for now Mick. You asked for a kiss. I said I couldn’t, I’m really just, I’m not, I don’t, I have rules, I really should have just fucking kissed you. Instead I said I would text you.
I danced with my girls. They played some amazing jams. I fucking loved that place. A couple of songs later you were back. What? I thought you were leaving Mick. Well whatever #yoloswag. We danced some more, sexual tension rising. You have beautiful eyes Mick. You were quite the gentleman. You didn’t grab my butt right away like I expected you to. Only at the right time. You didn’t try to force a kiss on me or make me kiss you, you merely brushed your lips close to my face. Temptation. It definitely was there. We talked some more you and I, my half Sicilian half Portuguese beauty. I’m a good guy you said. I believed you. Let’s get out of here, I need some fresh air, I said, and I led you by the hand but just as we reached the top of the stairs I saw Eugene, Natan, and Eli. I freaked out. They were going to come down here and see us dancing and I would get in big trouble, and the guilt would be unbearable. This would be the end. I said I would text you. You won’t, you said, this is the last time you’re going to see me. You kept telling me this is the last time, let’s just dance. I’m a good guy, I have a feeling you’re not going to text me. I really like you. You’re absolutely perfect and I would dance with you forever. But my fear was too great, and you left, you pouted. Not sure if you were sad or just pouty. Either way you were still cute. The night ended and your number was lost on my phone.
I screamed on the way home and I almost cried. I went to bed sad and woke up sadder. I tried so many times to get your number out of my fucking phone. It must be in here some where… I lost your number and I’m still not over it. Maybe I’m naive but I sincerely wanted to get to know you better. Maybe you weren’t just that short guy, or a good guy. Who knows, maybe you were a great guy.
I’ve heard a lot of stories like this but never would I have thought that I would be part of a story like this. Mick, you made me feel happy, special, and beautiful that night. You did everything right (except for the excessive and obvious humping), and I just wanted to text you, to make you feel as awesome as you made me feel, but now I’m just another unsuccessful unreachable attempt at getting laid. Maybe you’re more experienced at this than I am, but you are a beautiful person and so genuine. I hope your heart doesn’t harden because of me. You deserve an awesome woman. You really do.
I don’t talk to God often, I believe more in the tangible and the possible. However I probably won’t see you or contact you ever in my life again and though we got to share only a moment once for the rest of my life, I will send a prayer to the skies and thank God that I met you.