The enemy

- I am so lucky for having you - I whispered in her ear as I held her in my arms and kissed her again while pulling her hair back with a gentle touch.

****

We met four years ago. Nothing sappy. I was out with my friends at a disco. She was the prettiest of the party. Of course, I fell in love from the first moment and like me, all men there. Then, it began a ritual of seduction typical from a wildlife documentary. All alpha male strutting in front of her, the most daring approaching and trying to seduce her. Honestly, I've never been very brave with these things and I was watching from a distance, fearing every moment that any of the candidates might succeed. Probably I was looking like a complete idiot, I can figure, because I couldn´t see myself from someone else's eyes , I spent hours holding the empty glass in my hand, staring at her maybe even with the mouth open, I don´t know. All I know is that my friends left me behind, according to them, after several unsuccessful attempts to communicate with me.

She was like an impenetrable wall. Imagine a beautiful fortress repelling one after another the assault attempts, always with the brightest and widest of the smiles. After a while, I could not say how long, I began to find fun, even elegant, the portrait of rejection and failure in the guys´s faces. Some remained moving in circles around her, as if thinking to try again, others marched immediately terrified and sought the greatest possible crowd of people to hide and others returned with his group of friends, and you could sense in his gestures how they tried to take out importance from their failure - "She could be mine if I wanted her, but from close she loses a lot" - or some other nonsenses of that kind.

The night passed in a flash, well, hundreds, at least one for every candidate, and the club was emptying. When closing time was getting closer, almost all the barricades of people who kept me hidden had left leaving me in a vulnerable position. But who can think about those things when you are in the process of falling in love. I do not. So I stood there, staring.

Finally the music stopped and the lights turned on. There were about twenty people in the room, but I felt like I was on a stage with the focus directly pointed at me and the public expected to hear me sing, or dance, or do something. The feeling of shame rescued me from the vegetative state of worship I was immerse in. I dropped the empty glass with my fingerprints carved already in it, and I left, cursing my cowardice, blessing not be one of the rejected and promising myself to save that night in a special place in my memory and use that memory every time I needed it.

It was almost 6am and subway was starting to work again. The night resulted extremely cheap, remember, only one drink, and I wanted to get as soon as possible to my bed to lie like in the movies without even removing the covers, hands behind my head and eyes wide open thinking on her- well, this part is a bit sappy, yes, but that´s what I felt - so I decided to take a taxi. Also the idea that some drunkard in the subway could get me down from the cloud of happiness where I was didn´t appeal to me.

Taking a taxi in Madrid at 6am near a drinking area is no easy task. And by is not easy I mean it would be easier to kill the mythical Medusa with a plastic fork like those you get in the airplanes. But one has its resources. All you have to do is walk in the opposite direction as everyone else goes to catch the taxis and get to before the area where everyone expects them. Sounds smart, so much that more people think the same thing and you end up in a never-ending marathon, where there is always someone walking a little bit farther than you, and taking the taxi right in front of your face. So in the end, after walking a lot, let alone run, you give up and take the metro. And that's what I did. A couple of stops away from where I was having the drinks, though.

The train didn´t take long to come. The car was almost empty so I could choose a seat in a corner where to lay quietly with the head on the wall worrying only for my tasks, which consisted solely in thinking on My Lady for that time.

After two stops I found myself back at the starting point. I stopped a moment my awaken dreaming to watch the platform, seeking the face of some of those rejected by My Lady. I know it´s not nice to enjoy other´s problems, but try to wear my shoes. The train pulled into the station, and I looked closely at the platform, a mixture of tennis match and advanced facial recognition, but it was all new faces to me. All but one. When the car door opened I ran remained breathless and I cringed in my seat as I watched My Lady entering and sitting right in front of me.