I had always dreamt of having an encounter like this. In almost every woman’s head (men I am told have two heads so I can only speak to one-headedness ;)), there is a dream, reverie or fantasy of an encounter that she would like to have – with a man. Of course in that reverie, there is always the idea of how the man she will have the encounter with will be like: how he looks, how he carries himself, how he speaks and especially how he speaks to her, how he treats her, when they are alone and in the company of others, what he knows, what his interests are, his sense of humor, what attributes of his character will draw her to him and so on…..you get the drift – basically Eve has this down to the molecular formula because the levels of chemistry that are expected to rise and be sustained are no algebraic child’s play.
So when I met him, nothing could have prepared me for the encounter. For when I met him, this reverie of mine had been stacked away in the zones in my mind that would probably fall under the final laps of the alphabet which would have taken a very patient librarian to retrieve. Luckily, I didn’t need the librarian because my encounter with him slowly registered with the mental retrieval that was taking place in my head. It was like I knew him from somewhere but it was only because I had met this present as a feature of my future in my mental past.
In my mind, I dreamt that I would be deeply attracted by his intellect; I would be intrigued by our shared intellectual interests and by the diversity of those interests so that we could learn from each other and also agree to disagree when that needed to be the case. And when I encountered him I was not disappointed – I was particularly enchanted by the fact that we both had an appreciation for the poetic word that we could find expressed in various media; here was the man I could go with to a slam poetry night, a play, a concert or have conversations about books that led to exchange of thoughts on different subjects, to comparisons of opinions and symbiotic enlightenment. This was a Matrix connection for me.
I loved the way he carried himself, with quiet dignity and confidence that gave off not even an iota of arrogance. In fact, his presence was almost unassuming – he didn’t speak to prove himself in the presence of others but was like a jewel revealed when we were in each other’s company. I loved the way he spoke to me, the way he looked at me when he spoke to me. The way to a woman’s heart is much about the way a man treats her – and oh boy! did I not wholeheartedly embrace the way he treated me – with care, respect and dignity. He left very little window to doubt how immensely he cared for me – in fact, I think this man had mastered the art of caring so much that he knew not to allow seeds of doubt to even sow the idea of germinating.
That he fitted the bill of my reverie leaves me to feel a lot of things – to feel a contentedness that is just whole; to feel the beautiful queasiness that comes with butterflies filling your stomach, the lightheadedness that comes with emotions welling from deep within you and you wonder if your blood has suddenly thinned or whether all your red and white blood cells are busy jumping hoops. Most of all, I love the feeling that he’s brought along and sustained – that there is such a thing as meeting someone with whom you have a mental and physical connection that blows your mind. That what can be seemingly appear to be elusive or a falsehood is actually possible – falling in love.
And I don’t want to let this feeling go.