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I fell in love for twenty minutes… May 29, 2007

Posted by flyingsirkus in Individualism, Who Am I?.

At first, it wasn’t that she was fifties pin-up gorgeous. I work in Las Vegas, and see beautiful, confident women every minute of every day at the casino where I work. It was the spiraling march of letters and punctuation that snaked around her upper arm like an Egyptian bracelet, black as her hair, that snagged one of my heartbeats and claimed it for their own.

She was chatting with the bartender, her smile so big her molars winked at me while her eyes were elsewhere. I was dressed in the unstylish all-black drab anonywaitron uniform that sucks away personality faster than prison stripes. There was a break in the bartender’s flirtatious conversation, and I grabbed it.

“I couldn’t help but notice your tattoo,” I began, my own originality spiraling away in the black void of the uniform. “What does it mean?”

She smiled, and this time her teeth full on and literally blinded me with science. “It’s a mathematical formula explaining how heat and light are transferred as energy in the atmosphere.”

‘Wow!” I said, and I walked away. I wanted her to know that I thought it was the most interesting tattoo I had ever seen in my life, and to see it on someone so achingly gorgeous was tantamount to an Old Testament miracle. It was like she’d walked straight out of Douglas Adams’ brain and into my bar. I didn’t want her to think that I was some random table-waiting idiot, and I wanted quite badly for her just to talk to me some more.

I totally forgot what I was walking away to do. I know I was busy, but at that point I could have had hoardes of angry customers snapping their fingers and glaring at me, giving me the “Miss!!” hiss, and I would have been just as oblivious. I walked back over to her.

“Did you get that just to piss off the people who think global warming is happening because they think the sun is getting hotter?” I asked her. I think it was the right thing to say. It sparked a conversation.

“You know, I never expected my tattoo to be so political,” she confided in me. I felt like I was swimming in caramel; warm and gooey inside and outside. “I used to be a physicist, and this was a formula I used often. I wanted an original tattoo, and I’ve never met anyone who has one like this.”

I knew how she felt. On a much more superficial level, I have three earring holes in one ear and one in the other. I have always wanted to meet someone else with the same combo. The closest I’ve come is a dear friend who has three in one and none in the other, and when I found that out it just made me feel closer to him kinshipwise, even though it’s a very silly club to belong to.

When she said that, I knew I was out of her league. I knew there was someone out there with a tattoo that would blow HER mind, and that would be it for her. But it never hurts to flirt, right? So I replied to her, “I’d like to get an Infinity Cat in my armpit one day.” Maybe not the best sentence to offer to further a flirtation, but I had a feeling she’d get it. I was right. It made her smile.

“You should!” she encouraged me. We chatted for a minute about global warming. It was weird for me to actually have a conversation with someone who agrees with the science I’ve read. Most of my conversations about global warming end up being debates. It made me feel awkward, like all of a sudden she started stripping off her black-and-white spaghetti strap dress. She showed me a little bit of her mind, and it was breathtaking.

I had to walk away. What was I going to do? I’m an unhappily married woman, and she was just driving a spike of fascination into my heart that I couldn’t bear to be driven in one more time. One more interesting conversational tidbit from her and I’d start falling into insanity. Life would stop making sense.

I retreated to the other end of the bar to fold napkins. I watched her intermittently. Two of my fellow waiters started chatting her up. Neither of them can use a sentence without calling the person they’re talking to “Dog.” She was having a great time talking to them, laughing at their jokes and making witty comments at their conversation. Then she was gone, off to attend a friend’s wedding, then back on a plane to Massachusetts.

I’m a pretty girl myself. I’m not shy, and I have a big laugh. I think I’m pretty smart, and a good conversationalist. And my body, while not her caliber, is really not bad. I’m no bloated egotist, but I think I’ve created an interesting person out of the life I get to live. I wonder if I’ve ever made anyone fall in love for twenty minutes?

I remember her, and I’m happy.



1. ideonexus - September 6, 2007

This is a great post. I think you’ve captured something we’ve all felt at times, but never think to articulate it so wonderfully. : )

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