Dear The-One-that-got-away

“I don’t like your friends but I like you.”

“I don’t smoke.”

“I don’t like people smoking.”

“Darling, you can smoke if you want to.”

“Darling you go buy me the tube inhaler from the counter aaaah…”

It has been one whole week now since we met that night, and I just realized that I didn’t even get your name, and it wasn’t entirely my fault because I thought that screaming into your ears or yelling above the ridiculously loud music of that place we were in are no-good idea to impress you, hence some broken bits and pieces of your words were all that I could gather from that whole of a night.

However—

The only solid piece of evidence I managed to grasp is on my lips--the way my lips felt against your bare shoulder, to your beautiful neck, and eventually, meeting your lips once too many times on that night.

Not forgetting how I would end up feeling so very disorientated later when you abruptly ended the night out of no sign, and left me on my own, and left me hanging by myself, and left me feeling so high and dry.

See I was so convinced that you will take a snapshot of us sharing a blanket tucked away in the same bed the next morning, which you would later go around and brag about an unsuspecting out-of-towners being your latest find-of-the-nite to all your comrades.

But that was just me…It turned out to be a no-go afterall.

Given the circumstances, I am almost certain that it will take nothing short of a fate or miracle to bring us together ever again.

But I must tell you that, you better not be too naughty, for I will do my best to spank the heaven out of you—if our eyes should ever meet again.

Behave oh behave, my little Ms-Daring-Devilish-Half-Stranger-YOU!