The Secret Lives of People In Love
Missed Connections in Brooklyn
I told everyone, ‘I’m going to hire pretty girls.’ I then said, ‘I’m going to kiss them too.’ I then hired you. And stories were told.
And there you were with those eyes. Those damn eyes. Pretty, brown, big, and sweet as saccharine and there was no way. I was nauseous. But you kept smiling. Even in my direction. And then I wondered.
But there was another. My friend who I called my sweetheart; who I called my brother. He was on the prowl and he was aggressive. I jokingly said it was a game. And in the end he won. A few kisses on a small boat. And then as the moon pulled a high on a star filled night as waves crashed on an almost empty beach, the game was over. I got cranky. I lost. But in the end life isn’t just a game, but it’s living. Then things grow.
However, there were times you looked at me. And I wondered.
But still, my friend was falling. Fast and with both smiles and sadness. And I couldn’t take that away from him. He was sure, even though I was sure he wasn’t. But with his bright blue eyes, I could see that I should stay out of his way. They read, ‘Danger,’ ‘Stay away,’ ‘Bad Idea Bro.’ But still there you were, and I was close by, and in an empty kitchen with vegetables boiling and pop music playing, I just wanted it to be a game no longer. And well, I just wanted to be the only boy in the room who held your hand. Then the world would stop moving so fast, and for us, well, for everyone, everything would be okay.
Time passed and I tried to run away into the past. Into the stories of old loves and the happiness of past affairs. You listened. But still, you were there.
And then on the last night, after booze and sadness, we found each other. And I didn’t want to let go. All the memories of a short time played. And all of it felt real, and the regret of mistakes felt dismissible. The next morning when I saw you, I didn’t know how to feel. But I did know how I felt. And all I could hope was that you felt the same.
You drove an old orange car down an empty motorway. I sat next to you and wore a smile. A friend sat in the backseat and if she knew, I didn’t know. But that didn’t matter. All that did was that you were there and so was I, and in the end, if that’s all I had, well, then maybe that would be enough. Even if it were just that.
I can’t write endings and you know that. But still you believe in me. And for me, and for us, I will choose to believe the same.
Her Two Cents
I was so taken with the title of this missed connections story that I had to poke around and see if it referenced another source. Sure enough, it’s used for a collection of short stories by author Simon Van Booy. This 2007 book has received rave reviews from various online sources but to the best of my research, this story above is an original and not attributable to him. That’s one of the many reasons for reading missed connections – you never know what interesting discoveries (or book suggestions) may be out there waiting for you!
