Love?

Hopeless romantics call it love at first sight, but I'm never been one of those. Cynics or realists call it lust at first sight. Unfortunately, I can relate more to them. Either way, seeing that special person is supposed to be this wonderful euphoric experience, but that's not what I felt. When you walked into our living room behind my older brother, I had to do a double-take. You looked so much like my first T.V. crush. I had been watching the series La Femme Nikita, and someone enamored me, it was the character Seymour Birkhoff played by Matthew Ferguson. You looked so much like him. You had a tall slim tone frame with long limbs. Your skin was on the paler side like you spent most of your time indoors. Your soft dark hair was close-cropped. Your thick plastic glasses framed your dark soulful eyes perfectly. When you smiled your front teeth stuck out a little bit and I could imagine that you probably hated it, but I found it adorable. My skin felt like it was on fire, I felt my face flush. I had clammy palms and tried to wipe them on my pant legs without anyone noticing. My stomach was queasy and doing summersaults. The last thing I needed was to throw up my lunch, which would make an amazing first impression. I couldn't think straight, my thoughts were bouncing all over the place. I wanted to sink into the chair I was sitting on and vanish. I couldn't peel my eyes off of you, the graceful way you moved, how you gently touched your water glass and took a sip. I fantasized that I was that glass, your hands grasping me, your lips gently caressing me. I felt excited and embarrassed. I hoped and prayed you didn't realize I was staring. How foolish I felt. Here I was an adolescent, barely thirteen years old. Granted I didn't look like I was thirteen, I was five feet ten inches tall and wore a women's size eight. I had an hourglass figure, a larger bust, a slender waist, and bulky hips. My long thick hair reached the middle of my back. I by no means looked like a child, in fact since I was ten years old I had teenage boys making advances toward me. But you weren't a teenager, you were an adult man, twenty years old. Why would you ever notice me? But then the unimaginable happened. You turned in my direction. My heart and breathing stopped momentarily. You smiled, not in my general direction, but at me. Could I be imagining it? Was my head seeing what it hoped for and not what was there? I tried to smile back, not sure if I managed to get my mouth to work. I licked my lips and then pressed them together. Your slightly crooked smirk widened when you saw that. What were you thinking? Could you read what my thoughts were about you being my first kiss? Your eyes mesmerized me and I could feel myself eagerly falling into them. I felt a pleasant warmth swell through my body, blood rushing to places I never noticed before. This chance meeting was going to lead to so many firsts for me. Little did I know that this was the commencement of the most intense, sick, dysfunctional relationship I would have. I didn't know that it would end with me brokenhearted and damaged. All I knew at the time was this man, this sexy man was looking at me. I didn't know what he saw, but he was really looking at me.