You can’t always get what you want. Photo: (Wave) Jaider Lozano
“AUUUGGGGHHH!!” A primal burst of anguish forced its way from my gut. It was the only sound I could make. The moment she passed by, I knew that I would regret losing her. “FAAAUURRGGHH!!!” I couldn’t help myself. Noises were convulsing their way through my chest until my mouth could contain them no longer. My body was left to its own devices at that moment, my mind being too preoccupied envisioning what could have been. “BLAAAUUGGGHHH!!!”
You could have called it love at first sight. Sure, I only saw her for a small portion of a minute before she left my life once again, but there was never a moment where I didn’t love her fiercely. She came into view with a few surrounding her, but my gaze was solely entranced by her presence. Her playful lips, her smooth flawless face, her voluminous curves–they’re all now just details to haunt future dreams. I’ve seen some before who had a feature or two reminiscent of her, although rarely with such a harmonious marriage of perfection. And never, have I seen eyes like hers. Emerald eyes, opened wide to tempt me to gaze as deeply as I dare. I lost myself in those eyes… what I’d give to lose myself again, in those eyes.
Problem was, every other guy around me felt the exact same longing sensation. We all desired to be the one to profess our love to her. Once she entered our vision’s range, like tropical birds beginning their mating dance, the crowd of men around me began to instantly change their demeanour. All friendly chit-chat was interrupted, deteriorating into whistles and hoots resembling the seagulls’ squawking overhead. With our chests puffed out, it didn’t take long for us to begin flapping and twirling our arms in an attempt to get to her first.
I’ve never been the dominant male. Truthfully, in our democratic society, I’d never felt it necessary. But at that moment I found myself consumed by prevailing victorious. Love thy neighbor fell a very distant second to the love I channeled towards her. Thankfully, a life lived of taking flight over fight had been paying off. I was leading the pack of predatory pheromones as they busily engrossed themselves in hostilities.
I myself, so consumed in reaching her touch first, nearly passed her by, unaware until I felt cold shivers run down my spine alerting my senses to her presence. I had stared agape at her magnificence from afar, but now within arms’ reach, I was stunned. Up close, I saw no blemishes or faults. I was in awe of the beauty that radiated off her. Her energy was overwhelming. The way the wind caressed her, the way she carried herself tall with pride as she approached swiftly, yet so elegantly; it made me realize I wasn’t worthy. She was too good for me. Sweat began to pour down my back, my body too stiff with paralysis to whisk it away. Even my tongue was frozen. She seemed to wait a second, out of courtesy I imagine, before continuing on her mysterious way again. “Move, damn it!” I told myself. I couldn’t be a deer in headlights when staring at the thing I lusted after so desperately. Frantically, I began to spin to intercept her, to plead my case, when I ran headfirst into the butt of some brute, his mass eclipsing my dream. Dazed and confused, I sat up with tears in my eyes as I watched the snake harass and smother my love. How he abused her, drunk on infatuation, trying to blatantly force himself upon her. It was horrid to behold.
To her credit, she did not need any neoprene knight to come rescue her from the inebriated monster. She had more than enough fight for anyone, let alone that trash. She slapped him aside, head over heels, and then with one seemingly final look my way, winked with one of those bewitching eyes as she spat in his face. If it was possible, my love for her doubled in that moment.
And then she was gone. She proceeded down her path with every other guy left sitting and simmering to themselves at what they had just witnessed. And that’s all we were ever meant to be… witnesses. We weren’t worthy of her. I’m not sure any man was. That said, watching her go wasn’t nearly as enticing as watching her arrive. At least as she approached we were able to fool ourselves into thinking we had a chance. Now, left in the wake of her presence, we were painstakingly reminded of our own mortality. We stared forlornly, well after she had left our eyes, her mythical image burned into our memories. The others she arrived with flashed and danced for our attention, but nobody was interested in second fiddles. As the hangover wore off, I was about to roar another animalistic groan of defeat when some guy wandering past me absently said, “damn, that was the sickest wave ever.” He was right. She was the best we’d see. But she was never meant to be caught. She always had to be the one. The one that got away.
