A moment that happened one Saturday night.

The moment you spot her in the crowd. The moment you whisper to your friend. The moment she catches you pointing. The moment you glaze your eyes over, look toward the bar and busy yourself. The moment she whispers to her friend. The moment she turns her body slightly away. The moment of uncertainty. The moment of doubt. The moment of resignation. The moment of reassurance. The moment of overconfidence. The moment of leveling. The moment of trepidation. The moment of relief. The moment of focusing on the task at hand. The moment of looking back to her. The moment of panic. The moment of scanning the crowd. The moment of confusion. The moment of emptiness. The moment of reaching for your wallet. The moment of moving toward the bar. The moment of waiting. The moment of waiting. The moments of waiting. The endless moments of waiting. The moment you spot something across the bar. The moment you spot the rich, dark hair. The moment you spot the full, peculiar lips. The moment you spot everything you’ve ever wanted. The moment your bottom lip drops. The moment you pull it back in. The moment your whole face softens. The moment it all makes sense. The moment you swallow your words. The moment he stands between you and her. The moment he stares at you… ‘What do you want mate?’ The moment you hurriedly order two vodkas to simply have another longing look. The moment another ‘he’ begins talking to her. The moment he makes her laugh. The moment he offers to buy her a drink. The moment he puts his hand on her waist. The moment she doesn’t seem to mind. The moment it all makes sense. The moment your drinks come. The moment they clink glasses. The moment they drink deeply with eyes on each other. ’19 dollars mate…. Mate?’ The moment you say ‘Oh yeah… ummmm, card?’ The moment you would buy the whole bar drinks just to gain her attention. The moment… ‘Receipt mate’. The moment… ‘No, nah, that’s fine mate’. The moment you slam down a drink. The moment you pace over to where she stands. The moment you hear her voice. The moment she giggles. The moment he talks in that fucking horrid flirtatious way. The moment you study him up and down. The moment you come to hate him. The moment you plot his death. The moment you take a deep breath. The moment you take back your last thought. The moment… Ah, nah, fuck him, he’s still a douche… The moment he walks away, telling her he’ll be back. The moment you realise the moment is here. The moment! The moment! THE MOMENT! You pause. She grabs her purse. She begins moving toward her friends. She sees you staring. She looks right through you. She turns back… You muster all your courage and pride and humanity and say, a little too loudly. ‘Excuse me, do you ever kind of feel like you’re in a moment that could be the most important moment of your life?’ The moment she surveys you. The moment she scrunches her face a little. The moment she utters ‘I hope this isn’t that moment.’ The moment you start to analyse her response. The moment she turns back again. ‘I know, I know… It’s not exactly the surroundings for something like this’. The moment she starts to look impatient. ‘What do you want from me?’ The moment you realise you have no idea how to answer that question. The moment you open your mouth knowing what you say in the next sentence could legitimately make or break your life. The moment you pull back a little on that comment. The moment she shakes her head and turns back again. ‘You’re the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. I know every guy says that, and they usually don’t mean it but I can categorically claim, through my drunken haze, that you are definitely… you’re in the top 5.’ The moment you wish you hadn’t said anything. ‘Top 5? Wow. That’s some compliment.’ The moment you notice she’s in between smiling and frowning. You know, neutral. Yeah, that’s the one. The moment she moves a little closer. The moment you catch her scent. The moment you realise tears are about to fall from your eyes. The moment she whispers in your ear, ‘that’s a really nice thing for you to say.’ The moment she kisses you on the cheek. The moment lightning produces fire, which produces heat, which produces life, which produces love! ‘But I have a boyfriend.’ The moment it all comes crashing down; the rain, the snow, the wind, the cold and the pain. The moment… The moment… the moment… Fuck the moment. You look at her, take a deep breath, and bid her farewell. She smiles. ‘It was very nice of you though’. ‘Well, it is true.’ You smile, turn away from her and walk on, sipping on your vodka lemonade and falling into the dreaded inebriated lull. You spot her from across the room; her boyfriend walks back from being a douche or… using the bathroom…. Or, yeah, using the bathroom I’m sure. He grabs her waist, pulls her closer and kisses her softly. She smiles, whispers something into his ear and then looks across at me. The moment she catches you staring again. The moment she smiles at you. Was that longing? I think it was longing. Ah, he’s a pretty handsome dude, it probably wasn’t longing. The moment you look to the bar. Your friends staring at you, laughing at your bitter rejection. The moment you concede, stumble back over and begin assessing the crowd again. The moment your friend pats you on the back, puts a drink in front of you and says something blokey like ‘it’s alright mate, plenty more fish in the sea.’ The moment you shrug your shoulders, look across the room and spot another her, beautiful tanned, beautiful green eyes, simply BEAUTIFUL! The moment you realise she truly is the most beautiful woman you’ve ever seen! The moment it all makes sense! The moment she smiles! The moment you smile! The moment you catch each other smiling! The moment the rain starts to fall in Africa! The moment you fall in love so deeply and so quickly it takes your breath away! The moment she frowns. The moment she turns her body away from you. The moment of fear, of trepidation, of uncertainty, of doubt, of hurt, of want and of desire striking your loins at the same time. The moment you sip your drink, turn to your friends and bark, ‘this place sucks, you can’t hear yourself think’. The moment they laugh and you die a little inside. The moment you realise you are the last bastion of romance in the modern world. The moment you comprehend that you are going to write the greatest romance novel of all time, with a beautiful woman, a rich family, a poor farm hand, a carnival, a forbidden attraction, a lot of rain, a lot of letters, a lot of indecision, and houses being built by hand and crying and love! So much fucking love… The moment you remember the Notebook. The moment you drop your head. The moment you realise you’re a pathetic, hopeless romantic. And you’re drunk. And you’re going to make the same mistakes next weekend as you did tonight. But it’s probably all kind of worth it for that one moment. The moment you realise that moment might not really exist… ‘Two vodka lemonades thanks’.

*Picture courtesy of http://permeate.tumblr.com/


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