10 Seconds

10

I was not prepared for this.

My eyes dart around the room, targeted and efficient. A few moments ago, I distinctly remember thinking that the room had become crowded. Bodies had been packed onto the dancefloor to the point that it was brimming. Teeming even. A sense of beautiful anonymity had engulfed me. How then does it now feel so barren? The sweating mass that was just moments ago pulsing around me, now feels like a swarm of hungry spectators, razor focused on me. The freak at a freak show. Or the single person at a New Years Eve party, as it were. Same thing, really. Or at least it feels that way. I guess that is what this night does to people.

9

I was not going to react this way.

I had made myself a binding promise just last week when I agreed to attend this party. I had ignored the sympathetic glance I had received when I had informed Nancy, from accounting, that I was not bringing anyone to the party. I had ignored her pitiful reassurances that I would find someone soon. I had told myself I didn’t care. That I was okay going to this party by myself. Flying solo. It was 2020 after all. Almost 2021, actually. The age-old mentality of needing someone to kiss at midnight was a thing of the past. Archaic. Outdated. I was beyond that.

8

So why am I so panicked right now?

Why are my eyes darting around, frantically seeking someone to kiss at midnight? Why am I currently sizing up the available options? The buzz of anonymity fading, I now feel a stark sense of awareness of those around me. Like the guy two feet to my right, who has spent a large portion of the evening not so subtly glancing my way. And definitely not so subtly grazing my ass every time the opportunity presented itself, which was often. I, of course, being well versed in the club atmosphere, have pretended not to notice, as any single, club going lady would have. After all, you have to play hard to get, to get. Now, I take a moment to actually take him in. His dark hair hangs just over his eyebrows and definitely has potential, but it is currently drenched in sweat. Whose isn’t out here, I suppose? A forgivable transgression. His jeans and t-shirt suggest that he want to appear casual. Not too eager, which is admirable. I meet his eyes and his hungry gaze bores into mine, suggesting he would definitely be up for a midnight kiss. Okay, more than a kiss probably.  But that deeply cut V? Questionable.

7

A safe choice, all things considered.

But did I really come out tonight to make the safe choice. No. I didn’t want to make any choice. I wanted to dance. To drink. To have a great time. And when the evening was over, I wanted to go home. By myself. To prove that I could, maybe? Prove that Nancy bitch from accounting, with her pitiful glances, wrong. And I wanted to stop missing you.

6

I want to stop missing you.

I want to stop missing you so bad.

5

Shit.

Five seconds left. Okay, deep V guy is out, but there are plenty of other options. This is a club after all. The gentleman –and I do mean gentleman—to my left has caught my eye several times tonight. Independent? Sure. But I am only human. He is handsome. Like Chris Hemsworth in real life handsome. He would be a great contender. That is, if it wasn’t for the supermodel beautiful woman already sucking on his face. Rather sloppily I might add, but I suppose when you are that hot, you don’t need to worry about being a good kisser.

4

You were a great kisser.

Maybe the best kisser I’ve ever kissed. It is hard to say for sure; I am twenty-eight after all. I’ve been kissed a few times. Who knows? Maybe Jason from the seventh grade was a better kisser than you. A middle school kissing prodigy. Weirder things have happened, right? Your kisses though, were more recent. They were fervent. Passionate. Insistent. Like you wanted to consume all of me. Well, not in the weird way like that sounds. In a deep, metaphorical way.

3

I can’t breathe.

Thoughts of you restrict my airway.

I have to stop.

You told me that.

I told me that.

Everyone told me that.

My gaze still roving, I lock eyes with the man at the bar. If I run, I could make it there on time. Throw myself into his arms. That’s romantic, right? What about the man striding across the room? I like his attitude. His nonchalant walk says he doesn’t care about New Years. He doesn’t need someone to kiss at midnight to feel validated. He is closer than the man at the bar, and no deep V in sight. Apparently closer is my new criteria for finding a man? I try for a flirtatious wink and begin moving towards him. Target locked.

2

Wait.

This is not me. Or, at least, this is not the me I want to be tonight. I set out to prove that I could be independent. To be the woman who doesn’t need anyone to kiss tonight. Not this lonely, broken mess. You broke me. Or, more accurately, we broke me. Us. Could a kiss at midnight help to mend the pieces? Not right away of course. But it could be a step in the right direction. The direction away from you. Any direction away from you. Apparently I have reached the point of the evening where my reasoning and logic are at odds with one another. At this point, I could probably justify any action. Kissing a stranger? Calling you? Jumping from a moving plane? (Although, apparently people do that for fun?) Logic has officially left the building folks. Nothing left to do besides embrace it. Kissing devil may care man seems like the best move here. One more second to gather my nerve, and I am going to do it.

1

I look up and lock eyes with you.

I was not prepared for this.