We met in a bar. No. That’s cliché. We met in the produce department. No. Too 1990’s. We met on-line. Wow. No.

The physical meeting place was inconsequential. Where we met was a place thoughts collide and meld and ricochet, the battlefield of the mind.

When she said, “I routinely put my foot in my mouth,” my brain spat out about ten zippy comebacks like a slot machine spits out quarters. They lay in a heap at my feet, and I chuckled instead. I decided that I was probably too lame for someone as beautiful as her.

I saw the ring. But I fell into her eyes. I thought she wanted a friend, and I knew I could be that for her. When you find a soul-mate you want to keep them forever, in whatever capacity necessary. I could be her friend. I already was, I had been since the beginning of time. Talk about cliché, but sometimes that kernel of truth shines out of those over-worked phrases like a diamond in a turd.

We talked for hours over the first few months. I learned about the life she lived and the way she thought. I learned about the beauty of her marriage and felt the darkest jealousy I’d ever known. But I pushed it down and kept her close.

The first time we kissed was earth-shattering. Another cliché. She was feeling low and I don’t know who made the first move. But our lips touched and the chemistry was undeniable. It was at once the most beautiful and most heart-breaking moment of my life. We kissed tenderly for a long time, there in the bright sunlight, ignored by harried passers-by, anonymous in a city that didn’t give shit. I wanted to hold her forever.

Afterwards, we walked without speaking. I held her hand pressed against my thigh and she didn’t resist.

After all, the heart wants what the heart wants, and you can’t help who you fall in love with, and maybe one wrong can make a right, even if two can’t.

Above all, hope springs eternal.

6 thoughts on “Cliches

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