Latin serendipity, Part II

This is the second part of a story I wrote under the theme of this blog "NYC Romance". It's about the road to recovery after an internet romance. It's about the new type of romance that emerged with the ascension of the internet and new ways for people to meet and interact. The question is: Can a person's feelings be true and bearer of potential successful relationship, if there's no physical contact in the beginning?

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Photo "Lonely Love" by AllSoCreepy
http://allsocreepy.deviantart.com/

Latin serendipity

From Astoria to Union Square

Part II

« Ding, dong ! » We rang the door at Vincent’s place. A jet black haired girl, very pale, with 50s inspired bangs, opened the door for us. She looked as though she could have been Amy Whinehouse’s friend, or least, that she lived in the same universer as the famous singer. She was obviously happy to be there, given the bright smile and welcome she gave us. My girls made scarcastic comments amongst themselves, probably criticizing the way that girl was dressed. I didn’t really hear what they said ; I was grabbed by Vincent who gave a warm hug.

« I’m so glad you decided to come ! We weren’t sure you would. Jenna told me that you had them waiting forever at the subway station. »

« No, I wouldn’t have missed it for the world. There was problem with the subway back in Queens, and it took me forever to get here. » Yes, that was a lie. But sometimes, you know that you just have to tell people what they want to hear, even if they know, deep inside, that it is untrue.

I had never been to Vincent’s place. We’d been working together for almost a year. Like a lot of us working for the UN, he had a fascinating ethnic origin. A mix of Norwegan and Namibian, he looked more like an Indian to most people. I have to say that figuring out his accent was a subject of many bets amongst colleagues, with almost everyone guessing wrong. Vincent was a lovely person. Warm, funny. He was always in a good mood, always ready to give a helping hand. His tall and handsome figure was ideal and fit for a model or an actor but what most people would consider to be a great quality, turned out to be a handicap for him. Women had the tendency to be attracted to him, hoping for his returned attention. For many years, he’d felt compelled to pretend interested when in fact, he had been exclusively attracted to men since his late teens.  His partner, Larry, wasn’t bad either. A British humanitarian doctor, he was always travelling to some exotic destination, to save sick children in developping countries.

Vincent and I had walked out of work towards the subway a few times, and during these short walks, we were able to share intimate confessions about ourselves and our past. He had listened to me with a lot of attention, often asking me to repeat some details, especially about my internet relationship, the one that really broke my heart. He was probably just intrigued. These kinds of situations can be unsusual for some ; therefore, I understand his curiosity. Whether he knew it or not, talking to him about it truly helped me heal. Somehow, what felt sometimes like an unfathomable dream, seemed more real as I was talking about it.

The party at his place was a hit. A friend DJ  from Congo put all the world music we, foreigners, like to indulge in when we went out to dance. His compilation was the right mix of caribbean zouk, Brazilian samba, Central African Nbombolo, Ivorian coupé décalé, all on a bed of R&B and techno music. As the night evolved, my happy friends got even happier. The caipirinhas and margaritas were flowing. Everyone was cheering and dancing together on international hits we all knew the words of. As for myself, I was quite proud. I would make a good actress, after all, because I played the role of the ecstatic girl and I have to say that I was quite brillant at it.

« We’re so happy the Lila we know is back ! » a random person shouted at me while jumping to the beat of a song. I can’t even remember who it was.

All I remember is the sudden urge to run away and cry the comment gave me. And that’s exactly what I did. I could hadly retain the tears, pushing to drop down my cheeks. As I got to the bathroom, I hit the door closed and sat on the toilet, with only my hands to weep on. I wept, and wept. That bastard really crushed me. I feel worthless. Whomever he was, why would anyone be so crual to get someone to love them and then, cut them away like nothing happened ? A brutal bang on the bathroom door forced me to get up and get on with the party.  The night was still young and I still have my acting premiere to continue. I dried my tears off with my dress and I left the bathroom.

The living room had tranformed into a dance floor that would make Ibiza shameful. All I could see were hands up in the air, and voices singing along memorable hits. I had always been a very good dancer. As a teenager, I would sometimes go out at night, with my two best friends, and dance the night away. Our parents, of course, thought we were nicely sleeping in our respective beds at the time. That’s what made the experience so enjoyable. Though, despite our obvious weakness for techno music, never did we have any alcool, or any drugs for that matter. It was just plain old and clean fun. Dancing, I have to say, had helped me in many occasions. Often, alone in my bedroom, would I put music from my computer and just dance, pretending I was the queen of the night or re-living a romantic moment in my head. That’s something I did quite a lot thinking of Riccardo, the stranger of my computer. I would imagine him and me in the most delightful situations and I would dance to the sound of romance. Even though he surely wasn’t here with me, dancing could still be my gentle companion. That’s at the very moment I heard this song, a zouk song I used to listen to on repeat mode when I was connected to Riccardo.

Derrière l’écran je te devine,
(Behind the screen, I 'm trying to guess who you are)

Dans ma tête je t’imagine,
(In my mind, I'm trying to imagine you)

Es tu celle faite pour moi
(Are you the one for me?)

Celle que je n’attendais pas
(The one I was no longer hoping for)

Des mots si troublants,
(Words, so troubling)

Des Mots si envoûtants
(Words, so enchanting)

Je voudrais tant m’laisser aller
(I wish I could only let myself go)

Tant commencer à t’aimer
(And start loving you)

A t’aimer
(To love you)

Mais je ne t’ai jamais rencontré…
(But how, when I've never met you?)

The end of Part II

To be continued....

To watch the video of the song I'm mentioning above, go to: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=S1G-eSdnXZM

Latin serendipity, Part I

This is the first part of a story I wrote under the theme of this blog "NYC Romance". It's about the road to recovery after an internet romance. It's also about true feelings, despite the lack of physical touch, so necessary in modern romance as depicted in the media. Everyone's looking for band-aid relationships, short-cuts and sex seems the easiest way to figure out whether the relationship will work or not. Whereas women have the tendency to find "sex" synonymous with "love", men - on the contrary - have the faculty to multiply casual partners without ever settling down (of course, there are exceptions). But this would be a great topic of another story. As for now, I hope you'll find this humble piece enjoyable!

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Photo "Disillusioned by the thought of flawless love" by Orangeya

Latin serendipity
From Astoria to Union Square

Part I

I had almost forgotten him. Or, at least, I convinved myself that such was the case. The invitation to a party came at the right time ; I was ready to go out and have fun. How long had it been since my friends hadn’t seen me ? In a city like this, there’s always something going on, and I had deliberately cut myself away from just plain old fun.

Enough !

Almost four months ago, he stopped contacting me. Just like that. Like I was nothing ; like all that we lived was nothing. He broke my heart. What do I say ? He broke me. My msn chat page suddenly said « ricc1 is now offline » and that was the last time that I had heard from him.

It’s about time I move on and turn the page and start on a new chapter. It’s about time I meet other people and see what’s out there. After all, everyone tells me that I am beautiful. Somehow, those words only made sense when it was him telling them to me. As a matter of fact, our entire relationship had been like therapy for me, and I think for him too.

Over the months, we had become addicted to our chat time. I remember so many times leaving work in a hurry just so that I would get home on time to get to my computer. I lived for those moments. Life had stopped making sense unless I had my daily dose of him. It all started almost by mistake. I had posted a photo on hi5 and I started reconnecting with old high school friends. I received a message from him. Apparently, he noticed that I had checked out his photos a few times and wanted to know me. He also mentioned something about my being from the same country as me. I admit he looked very good on the picture he had posted; though, something always kind of told me that it might be a fake picture, taken from the internet. He almost looked too good to be true, and blurry in some areas. And me, well, I was just regular me.

He sent me a few words, we set a date to chat. I was immediately under his spell. Some of my friends warned me about the internet, and people passing for who they weren’t. I had also heard of people getting hooked over the safety of hiding behind a virtual relationship. Supposedly, it prevented them from facing real life and getting hurt by real people. For getting hurt, it’s true that I had had my share of it. Also, I didn’t plan on finding love over the internet. I was not looking to get into any sort of relationship or any sort of trouble for that matter. But all that’s in the past now. It doesn’t matter anymore since it is over. I have to pick up the pieces (of me) and get moving with my life.

First step : tonight’s party. As I lingered in bed, my phone rang. It was Jenna. « Where are you ? We’re waiting for you ! »

My friends were waiting for me in Union Square so we would walk together to Vincent’s appartment. I rushed out of bed and got to the shower. No time to think about what to wear ; I just threw on a dress I had just bought at Forever21 on 34th street a few days ago that was still in the shopping bag, lying next to my desk. As a matter of fact, I’d just wear everything I got that day that was in that bag : a very light dress – almost transparent tropical forest green color with black glitter ; some fake gold leaf earrings and a pastel pink rose ring. My hair was its usual self, with irregular curls falling all over the place.

« What the hecK ? I’ll just tie it in a big messy bun ». Some creamy Stila burgundy blush, two coats of mascara and I was good to go.

I got my keys, my phone, some lipgloss… I put it all in a baguette and I was off. Out the door, I realized that I had no shoes on. A small detail that would make a big difference in the subway !

« I’m really out of it, » I told myself.

But no time to think. I ran back inside the appartment, opened my closet and grabbed the first paire of high heeled red shoes I found. That should be ok. My phone rang again. This time, I wasn’t going to pick up. I’d get there when I’d get there. Sorry for my friends, but there’s nothing I could do at this point except hope that the next subway train would arrive soonest.

After what felt like a gazillion years later, I finally arrived in Union Square. As I was quickly trying to head over the exit, I noticed heads turning to look at me. « What’s going on ? », I asked myself. Finally, I saw my friends, obviously not happy to have waited, but definitely relieved to see me.

« Wow, you’ve decided to make a remarkable entrance, haven’t you ? », Jenna  commented, raising a brow.

« Why do you say that ? » I replied.

« No, for nothing. Let’s just go ; we gotta grab some wine at a bodega before getting to Vincent’s ».

Along with Jenna, there were also Svena and Naomi ; all good friends from work. They were talking, excited about going to the party. I just smiled ; actually, I was not exactly in the mood for all that. I’d rather had stayed home and watched some good old TV. A re-run of Keeping up with the Kardashian would have made for an entertaining evening. Instead, I was heading to a place full of loud music and people ; I have to say that it wasn’t a pleasant prospect.

But what if everyone was right ? What if it was about time I got out of my shell and forgot about a man that actually never really existed. It was true. There was no proof that he was who he said he was, that our relationship was even true. Did I even get dumped, or did I just dream up the whole thing ? In my head, all that was left was blur. 

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End of Part I