Have you ever had one of those days where, no matter what you do, you just stay bored? One of those days where there is something you really want to do, but can't because it goes against your morals? Yet you know that is the only thing that will get rid of your boredom? Two days ago was one of those days for me.
When I woke up that morning, I was alone again, as I have been for the past four months. To top it off, today is my birthday. I took the whole week off from work, hoping to treat myself to ... I don't know, something fun.
My life is actually pretty good. I like my job, get paid well, get along well with my boss and colleagues. My apartment is spacious and in a green neighbourhood. It is all mine. I have a wonderful boyfriend for five years now, and I think he will soon pop the big question to me. Soon being as soon as the blasted war in Iraq is over. Four months since I had last seen him. Four months and one day since we had last made love.
It was Wednesday, my birthday, and I was bored. Rather, I had a desperate need, urge and desire that can't be fulfilled. I masturbated three times, but it just didn't do the trick for me. I need some good solid hard lovemaking. But nooooo, he had to go off to help fight a war. And the good little girl that I am, I stay faithful to him and my dildo.
So there I was later in the day, in Amsterdam, drinking coffee. Good coffee. Really good. At the same time I indulged in a generous piece of strawberry cheesecake. Who needs lunch when you can have coffee and cheesecake?
"Well, this is a small world after all. Never thought I would ever see you again."
I startled at the voice coming from my left, spilling hot coffee over my hand. Shit. Burn. When I looked up in the direction of the voice, my heart skipped a beat or two.
"Samuel? What the ... what the hell ...?"
Samuel was the big love of my life when I still lived in South Africa. Very briefly though, we lasted three months. But those three months were heaven to me. Technically he was the second love of my life. When I met him at ... now let me get this right ... my best friend's stepsister's best friend's eighteenth birthday party, I was engaged. My fiancé was not at the party. I was twenty-one, most people at the party were between seventeen and twenty-two, my fiancé was twenty-seven. No common ground.
From the minute Samuel and I just started talking at the party, he swept my feet from under me. He has a dry sense of humour, making witty comments that most people don't understand. We could talk literally about absolute nonsense for hours on end. I slipped off my engagement ring. Oh, we didn't have sex that night, the sex came two weeks later only. But we spent the whole night together, chatting, laughing, sitting in each others arms. Exchanged a kiss that felt like I was flying to the moon, swinging among the stars.
A week later my engagement was off, Samuel and I were on. My parents were heavily against it. Samuel was not white. Not completely black either. White father, black mother. My parents were quite conservative. Stick to your own kind. At the very least, your own colour.
Samuel was the first guy I had proper sex with. Oh, my fiancé and I fooled around, gave each other handjobs. No penetration. I was 'saving myself for my wedding night'. But Samuel ... screw saving, this guy made me feel like a goddamn queen. I loved him so deeply. If I had to choose between my family and him, I would have chosen him. However, he was heavy into family values and couldn't stand not being accepted by my parents. He broke off our relationship. Two weeks later I ended up in hospital with a miscarriage. I didn't even know I was pregnant. A year later he unexpectedly dropped in at my place, and only left the next morning. After that ... I never saw him again. That was ten years ago.
And now, there he was standing in front of me, ten years later and also 10,000km further away. He smiled and I could feel my legs going numb.
"Hello, Linda."
What shocked me most right at the start was the fact that he could still have such an effect on me after ten years. It felt as if someone was stirring my guts with a spoon. And stirring something much deeper than my guts too. He still had that same aura, that boyish, fun, adventurous, yet extremely laid back and intelligent glow surrounding him. Not to mention the luscious fire that radiated from his flexible body. Oh he was very flexible. Very flexible indeed.
I smiled, hoping that I looked calm, and cursed my nipples for rising from their comfortable resting place. He pulled me out of my chair and hugged me tight, gave me a quick kiss. Then he pushed me a little back and we looked at each other, laughing. His jeans were baggy, his shirt far too big for him. The way he dressed ten years ago too. He looked so relaxed as he stretched his long legs casually out in front of him. We sat down With a finger in the air he attracted the attention of a smiling waitress in a skirt so short, she might as well have walked without it.
"Double espresso and a double cappuccino, since my friend's mug is empty. And could you make me a Hawaiian sandwich too? Thank you, dear."
She was dazzled by his smile and nodded. All I could think of was how soft his lips still looked, and wondering if I look all right. I also took to dressing the way I dressed ten years ago. Faded jeans, loose dark brown shirt, hardly any make-up. My short dark hair had their ends pointing in all directions. I was not going to dress up for a relaxing enjoyable slacking day in Amsterdam.
We spent our time doing a lot of catching up small talk. He was in Amsterdam for some computer security seminar and decided to make a short holiday of it. He got married, his wife didn't come along since their baby-daughter became ill shortly before they were supposed to leave. It was so great just to talk to him again. We still made and understood each other's lame sarcastic jokes. The muscles around my lips were starting to hurt from laughing.
Three hours, a lot of cappuccinos and a shared bowl of fries ("I won't ever understand why you Dutch people put mayonnaise on fries. Give me my ketchup, dammit!") later we were exploring the streets of Amsterdam. He put his arm around my shoulder as if it is the most natural thing in the world to do. We chatted, laughed, joked, drank, hugged, and he dragged me onto one of those little boat rides through the canals. Before I knew it, it was past six already.
"Hey, there is this club not too far from my hotel. Care to go tonight? I seem to recall you and I could wipe everyone else off the dance floor." I couldn't say no, even though everyone at the club would probably be at least ten years younger than we are. I am not a great dancer. I am probably even slightly below average. But Samuel can turn the world's worst dancer into a champion. However, I was not quite dressed to go clubbing. No problem, he said, I could take a shower in his room if I needed, and who cares about what I wear.
