A glance, a kind smile or even the slightest sign someone intriguing notices me, sometimes sweeps me of my feet. That’s how easily I get overwhelmed by sexual tension or a romantic comedy-like vibe.

My mind wanders off, my surroundings fade and my focus sharpens on that one guy. Enter the bubbly mental state where fairy tales exist, hurt feeling are forgotten and giving up on love is crossed from the dictionary. I lose all my senses, and emotions explode in my belly, though to everyone else in the room I seem utterly calm. I immediately retreat inside myself, analysing these subtle gestures. In that place it’s dark, intense and sad, and there’s nothing but the soulful connection that leaves me craving for more. Could this be the one?

Though it’s very rare that this stew of raw sensations leads to something, it happened to me twice. Once when I was sixteen and the other guy was straight (that went well…) and once three years ago when I was finally ready to really open up my heart for the first time.

I met him at a Woodpop party in Antwerp. He looked cute and mischievous. But even though he danced enthusiastically and sensually, in his eyes there hid a certain mystery. So while I was delicately observing him, endlessly infatuated, I could only wonder if he was hiding some sort of grief, which I found even more attractive. Nothing happened that night. I don’t even think he noticed me. But I was once again up for unrequited love. There’s beauty in sadness, isn’t it?

Two months later at the next Woodpop party I hoped he would be there too. Just as the butterflies in my stomach almost died because he was nowhere to be found, he appeared ever so handsome and alluring. That was the first time we made eye contact. There I was standing right behind him. Numb, scared, but extremely excited. Sometimes our backs touched, as we dirty danced to this Katy Perry song. Time was running out, my pumpkin was ready to leave and I wasn’t about to lose my shoe. So I had two options: remain silent like a shy 8-year old child or turn around, tab his shoulder and say hi. I waited for the right beat and fiercely turned towards him, but my lips couldn’t move and I just stood there with a quirky smile watching his butt twerk. Nothing happened, again.

I couldn’t bear being apart from him, even though we never really met. I wanted to know everything about him. So I started exploring pictures of that party night on Facebook. My heart started pumping when his photograph came into my sight. I clicked on the like button, believing I sent out an S.O.S. to the universe. It worked, he got tagged, now I knew where to find him. But I wasn’t prepared for what would happen next.

He had a boyfriend. I should’ve known. However, apparently the relationship was already down the rut. Mr. boyfriend even explicitly flirted with me on Messenger suggesting a threesome All I thought was: no, that’s the wrong guy! That complication didn’t stop me from having a date with the one I had my eyes on from the beginning. I went to his apartment and we soon hit off. After talking and getting to know each other better, we moved a little closer. Lights were dimmed, wine was poured, our hands gently touched. I can still see myself self-consciously giggling like Blake Lively in Gossip Girl whenever a charming guy cracks a joke. I lost track of time and my lips weren’t paralysed anymore. They felt every passionate kiss. My heated body lay down on the cool sheets of the bed and I enjoyed every second of the next two hours. Every American television drama would’ve used a fade-out by now.

The next few days were like a daydream. We became closer, he dumped his boyfriend (sorry for that), and we had what they call a relationship. It lasted six months. Then I found out history was repeating itself, but this time I wasn’t the beneficiary. Karma, right?

I was devastated, I’d never felt so stupid in my entire life. How could I’ve not seen this coming? I guess believing in fairy tales isn’t without risk. In the meanwhile, I’ve grown accustomed to living by myself, I love the independence, the time alone to reflect on my day or to dance with unicorns and cry without any shame when my favourite tv-character goes through a rough time. I even believe I don’t have my walls up anymore. But then again, even though I still detect those small hints of body language now and then, I miss being swept away.

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