I met Sammuel online. In retrospect, I suppose that we were attracted to one another because we had a lot in common, particularly our love for the arts. He was a sound artist, and at the time, I was writing and illustrating children’s stories. Our emails to one another were incredibly sweet, and I liked him very much. I suspected he felt the same about me.
After several weeks of cyber flirting, and a few warmhearted phone calls, it was time to meet. We chose a seafood restaurant on the water that had great outdoor seating (the perfect summer spot). The restaurant was near to his studio, and in an up-and-coming artist’s neighborhood. Our first encounter was picture perfect. Conversation flowed beautifully between us, and we had a great time together, but we lacked something. I guess you could say we just didn’t have that particular spark that triggers flames of love. I told myself that perhaps the sparks would come later, and I agreed to meet him again.
Our second date wasn’t exactly a date. He, and a group of other
emerging artists, had an opening show at an art gallery/bar/restaurant,
and invited me to attend. I brought a girlfriend with me, and when we
entered the gallery the ambiance reminded me of a small, dark, sultry
jazz club. Sammuel was in a corner of the room spinning an eclectic mix
of base beats. Modern works of art covered the walls, and opposite of
Sammuel was a small bar.
My friend and I roamed the
gallery, checking out the art and then we grabbed the only open seats at
one of the few tables near the bar. The venue was so crowded that
sharing tables with strangers was the only option, so when a small group
of guys joined us I thought nothing of it. We started talking, and it
turned out that one of the guys was a friend of Sammuel’s. Needless to
say, after the music stopped, and the venue was preparing to close,
Sammuel joined us at our table. Eventually, he invited everyone back to
his studio for a nightcap and an encore.
While Sammuel
packed his turntables in preparation to leave, and the group finished
their drinks, my friend and I meandered outside. We loitered around the
entrance of the gallery, lit a cigarette and sat down on a bench next to
another smoker. What I didn’t know was that the guy I sat next to was
part of the group who had been sharing a table with us inside. We got to
talking, and I could feel the chemistry flowing between our words.
Imagine my surprise when the group trickled out to walk to Sammuel’s
studio, and the smoking man joined us. We walked together, chatting,
laughing, and of course, flirting.
Shortly after
arriving at the studio, the smoking man quickly introduced himself, and
we immediately hit it off. I enjoyed talking to him so much that I
could’ve chatted with him all night. He was incredibly handsome with
golden locks and big ‘ol baby blues. Our conversation simply screamed,
“Hello sparks”! It wasn’t before long that my friend and I had to leave
to catch the last subway train home. The smoking man escorted us out of
the building (we had to take a rickety warehouse elevator to the ground
level from Sammuel’s 3rd floor studio), and as we said our good-byes I
gave him my phone number.
Soon thereafter we went out
on our first date… that was 4 years ago. Now we’re married and just had
our first baby. And you know what? I have no idea whatever happened to
Sammuel!
