THE ONE WHO GOT AWAY.

He was so beautiful.

There was once a boy, barely a man, but very sweet and kind and chivalrous. He was younger than me but every bit good looking and charming.

I met him at a time when I was lost and in a really dark place. It was only for a few hours but it was enough to leave me wondering what would have come out of it. We danced, a lot, by the light of the overhead bulbs under the intoxication of a little too much booze. Then we talked, as best as we could in a noisy crowded barroom. It was nice.

I liked his smile best, maybe because of the way his lips curled up in boyish charm or maybe the way his eyes crinkled up in mirth. I also really liked his face; kind, beautiful and just so pretty. He had the physique of someone who worked out, broad shouldered, well toned and every bit graceful in his massive form. He didn't hurt to look at because I have a thing for strength and muscle, the thing is probably more of an obsession but you have no right to judge me.

When I first saw him, he was dancing all alone but some of his buddies were talking to him. Maybe it was the drinks in my system but I was instantly pulled in by his energy. He radiated some sort of bravery and confidence that drew me in like a moth to a flame. At first, I was hesitant to join in then my surprisingly chipper third personality showed up then and took control. I walked up, a smile on my face and a swing to my hips. It was not awkward or weird as I had feared it might be. It felt like maybe it was just the right thing to do in that moment.

When our bodies met on the dance floor, it was like old lovers reunited. There was a tinge of curiousity, yearning, relief and playfulness all at once in our moves. They were fluid and complimentary of each other like we had done this a million times before and it felt like we had, maybe in a past life. There was no hint of lewdness as we danced. None of the usual drunken dirty dancing was present. It was more of an inquisitive routine, like dipping your toes in a swimming pool to test the water.

I searched and found a good vibe and a courteous person. I felt beautiful under his gazing eyes, like I was a maiden from a fairytale land there to steal his heart before the clock struck midnight. It was hot in the room and after a time I really had to take a break. I pulled him to my table where there was a seat for me. It was just one barstool but then we got clever and decided to share. He sat down and I promptly reclined on his lap. I felt like I had been made to be held like that.

I wonder at my bravery sometimes. Though, to be entirely honest, it doesn't take too much courage to trust in someone who feels like home. He was a stranger but as we sat there, holding a completely unstrained conversation he felt like I'd known him forever. I felt that a lot was in my hands and if I asked he would get me the world. I didn't want the world, however, just a few hours to forget. I had a lot that needed forgetting, like the boyfriend I had left at home who no longer looked at me like the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

Sometime into the night I asked him to get me a water because I was terribly thirsty. He was gone quite a while but when he came back he had a bottle of water in his hand, perfectly chilled and refreshing. I could have kissed him then, bless his beautiful face and heart. I did not kiss him. After all, I still had ties to the man I had once thought was my happily ever after. We hang out for a bit more before he had to leave. I guess it was almost midnight and his magic was fast fading and he had to leave before he turned back into a pumpkin or maybe a mouse, who knows.

I wasn't sad to watch him leave, though. I felt like it was the right thing to do even if a little part of me wanted to take him out and maybe hold his hand in mine at least once. Damn loyalty and monogamous relationships. I slept over at my friend's that night, it was a girls sleepover version where we passed out in the wee hours of the night. I woke up early to go back home, before it became crowded and my walk of shame became even more shameful.

I think fate is a practical joker or a just a really grouchy old man that likes to make people miserable. I didn't need to use a glass slipper to scour the kingdom for my newfound love interest. I saw him on my home, tall, buff and every bit gorgeous in the morning sun. There was a spring to his step like it wasn't morning after a night of drinking. I wanted to talk to him but I did not. I averted my gaze so he wouldn't recognize me and he did not because I had, after all, worn a cap. As he walked past, I think I felt my determination waiver.

It was torture for the next weeks because he seemed to be everywhere I looked, always managing to look even better each time. I am an open book and I never hid the fact that I met someone new at the club to my boyfriend. Let it never be said that I lied or was untrue. When I pointed out the guy I met, I heard a twinge of hesitation and insecurity in my boyfriend's voice but didn't think much of it. After all, it was my choice and I had chosen him, right?

Apparently, loyalty, love, commitment, honesty and openness are not what keeps a relationship alive. I still don't know what does because I always thought that those things did it. We fought, my boyfriend and I. No, we didn't fight. It was just him, calling names, insinuating that I did not hold myself true. We fought over a friend of mine who just happened to have been in the club that night.

Full disclosure, I had mentioned him too when giving account of my night out. I hadn't had to but I chose to, because of honesty and loyalty and all that. One time, as I slept, the boyfriend took my phone to read my chats. Let's overlook the invasion of privacy and jump to the part where the truth became distorted under his madness. I do not say mad to insult, just to point out the stark raving anger and insecurity I saw for the first time.

I was too shocked to feel offended. Not even I was labelled a liar and a coward did I get angry. I explained in so many words until I had nothing left to say. I didn't cry even once. I didn't even realize if I was hurt by the uncalled for accusations. I felt that maybe somehow it was just an honest misunderstanding. I knew the disrespect but was in too deep then to really acknowledge it for what it was.

Sometimes I wonder, in the dark of night, if maybe I had been more selfish if I would have had a different story to tell. I think of the boy I met only briefly. I only ever got his first name, no cellphone number and definitely no way to contact him. I don't think I would have contacted him or went out with him but still I wonder what if I had.

My biggest comfort is thinking that maybe one day, in this life or the next, we might dance again together. And maybe he will all but transformed into a man. His eyes will still be kind, though, and smile as bright as the stars, still. And when his arm will fall around me I will feel like a princess once more.

If it never happens, I will always have this memory and it will always be mine. Like a silly little secret. A secret that is not so secret anymore, but still...