going back to where it all started
In a dungy pub for a friend's farewell party. Short shorts and white cowboy boots. I felt free.
Right before we got to the pub, I saw two of the boys I had kissed the previous year. There was a particular high to knowing they saw me looking as good as I did that night. I was in a new era. I wasn't searching for love.
Isn't that what they always say?1
I walked into the pub as if I owned it. Confidence that had come from learning to accept rejection. Plus, I had one of my best friends by my side.
We saw the boys playing pool. One of them was unfamiliar. "Who is that?" I said to her in a slightly aggressive tone. He was an outsider. "He's kinda cute." A smirk on my face, I joked while quickly shifting gears.
But I wasn't there that night to meet a boy. It was the peak of Single Sara Summer™. I continued with my evening. Laughing with my friends and drinking beers. Every now and then, I would glance over at him. I didn't want to seem obvious. I had noticed once or twice he had been looking at me, too.
One of the guys joked, "If you want to meet someone, there's a guy right over there." Pointing in his direction.
I wasn't in the mood to do my usual game of picking up a guy. "If he wants to talk to me, he can."
And he did.
I was in the middle of a conversation about moving to Italy. It had been on my mind for the past few years, and I explained how this may be the time I finally go for it. I told one of my friends how I have family in the south.
"Don't go to south Italy." He interrupted.
That was his way in. He had been waiting to speak to me.
I hate when people tell me not to do something. Especially someone who doesn't know me. I gave him a chance to talk to me anyway.
I told him I wanted to be a writer. He said to watch this film, The Great Beauty — La Grande Bellezza. I never did watch it.
I didn't want to give him all my attention, but we were being pulled toward each other. The others in our group noticed and started to provide us with reasons to be alone.
"You should go see the patio."
We went together, and he told me about his tattoo. I informed him I didn't want to be with another Italian. He agreed that they were awful.
This was the summer meet-cute that I wanted. It was playful and easy.
In that moment, it really did feel like serendipity.
It was never love, but that wouldn't be as dramatic.