As I am still a bit insecure about a new boy that I will be meeting.
Trying to find my stability on what we should be doing.
A kiss, dinner or just a look that will make it all happen.
However, it is my thoughts that are going back in time, just a little bit.
It has been a while since I have heard from a guy I once was seeing.
But it is not that way I am thinking.
That I want him in my life, a regret or a feeling of that I am missing him.
I enjoyed the time I was with him and there is nothing really for me to be reminiscing.
It is the first time that I have experienced something like this.
Not a heartbreak to solve or some memories that keep repeating in my dreams.
Perhaps because I was present at that moment, when whatever it was, happened.
A lesson learned, that time can be saved, when to be present.
But I believe there is more to the story.
Because although we don’t meet anymore, I still have thoughts about him.
A sign there is something unresolved.
A lesson to be learned or a story to be told.
For me to explore what this missing piece is.
My mind is showing me the last time that I saw him.
For dinner, he invited me.
As polite as he insisted on paying, it was something else that was missing for me.
A form of manner that didn’t make sense.
I remember sitting at that table with him, looking at how he handled his cutlery.
This wasn’t the first time I had seen and experienced it.
There was once a guy that also invited me to dinner.
We met at work, smoking a cigarette outside, by coincidence, at the same time for some weeks.
This was before I quit that job.
We crossed paths after smoking at the same time for many times in the building.
Until I was comfortable enough to give him my phone number.
It didn’t take long before he asked me to enjoy some food.
I told him I knew a nice restaurant.
It was at that time, my favorite.
A homelocated restaurant in a hidden alley, close to the center.
When we were there, the waitress lit the candles and we could choose from the daily wine special.
To start with, not as a starter.
Although it could have been.
The guy I was with was French.
But it was this same thing that I saw with how he was using his fork and knife.
It had nothing to do, with him being French.
It was the manner of how he was eating that made me decide to stop meeting.
Perhaps I saw him one or two more times after this in the building, only because that was the place we were both working.
It was a recurrence with this guy I was once with and my thougths were showing me.
A turn off, with eating properly at dinner.
Although I have to admit, I am also not so good at it.
But at least I am trying.
A sign I show at least some respect.
Not just for myself or the other person at the table, but also for the food I am eating.
Because the only thing I thought, when sitting across from both of them was, ‘what are you doing?!’
Perhaps it was the repetition of this dinner at the table.
A message that unruffled with this sequence.
To tell me that I am better off with someone that knows how to eat.
Because honestly, it was disgusting to me, to see how they were eating.
It has become a standard that night I both saw them for the last time, but I was too shy to express.
To realize, to have standards, there is nothing wrong with that.