Love story: our meeting made me the heroine of a novel

Love story: our meeting made me the heroine of a novel

When we talk about our love stories, we often talk about the meeting. This crucial moment when everything is played out. Where the attraction is born, the desire often, then the interest and the desire to know everything about the other. To see again and again this person who awakens new emotions in us. And soon, real feelings of love. No meeting is harmless, banal, without interest. Every love story is beautiful, no matter where the couple meet, in what way, on what occasion. But it is true that there are encounters worthy of a romance or a love movie.Some of them, romantic or passionate, are so intense and at the same time so improbable that they lead to believe in the existence of fate, Cupid, evidence. There are things that cannot be explained and in the end it is better that way. Trying to rationalize a romantic encounter is pointless. But when the meeting turns into a beautiful love story , when his memory is so intense that it turns in a loop in the head, you have to know how to take advantage of it. And share it. Here is a nice testimony. Love story: our meeting made me the heroine of a novel.

Love story: our meeting made me the heroine of a novel

“The probability that our paths would cross was almost zero. And that of pleasing oneself was in my opinion impossible. And yet, today you are the man of my life and I the woman of yours.

Can we speak of a fairy tale of modern times?

At first, probably yes. Besides, I did not believe that our affair would be more than an adventure. I never imagined that we would live a real love story.

You always between two planes. Me juggling my life as a solo mom and an active woman to finally live on my passion.

The enemy between us? Time or rather the lack of time. 

The obstacle then? The distance.

And yet… Who said that it is only in the movies that you can meet the man of your life in an airport? Lots of people and I was probably one of them!

So that day you were at the airport, waiting to leave for Dubai. To juggle your emails and your calls. The stereotype of the businessman, traveling in business class, moving from one continent to another. Or rather from one megalopolis to another. You and your love of skyscrapers, buildings, increasingly crazy and futuristic architecture.

I came to look for a friend, her flight was late. Rather than waiting in a creepy parking lot, I preferred the relative but more welcoming comfort of a terminal café.

With my slightly bohemian look and my eyes immersed in my novel, I was the antithesis of you. There was little chance that we would meet one day and almost none that we would correspond on paper.

In the face of men like you, my stupid inferiority complex would wake up.

You looked in my direction when I burst out laughing at a passage from my book. Embarrassed to have been able to point out me, my gaze met yours. So green. So intense. I found you incredibly beautiful. I no longer controlled anything.

I wanted you without knowing you, an impulse that I did not understand.

If the desire were to materialize, there, right away, you embodied it perfectly.

You smiled at me and got up, but not to leave. You came in my direction, asking me for the title of the book that made me laugh so much. And we talked. Naturally. While our lives were poles apart, we had the same tastes and a similar sensitivity. And that same desire that didn’t try to hide.

You offered to meet me on your return from Dubai the following week. I didn’t look for excuses, I didn’t even think about it. I don’t know how to smirk. I said yes. A frank and direct yes.

This late first date tasted like fun, I expected nothing more. I assumed it. I thought I was too insignificant for you, to really please you, to hold you back for more than one night.

And that crazy life you had. Never there. If requested. So busy. Loving your solitude and your power of seduction. 

I was wrong. Other meetings followed. Each time you returned from your business trips, we saw each other. You called me. We were in a long-distance relationship .

I still had the word adventure in mind when we were already living a story.

I didn’t want to believe it. Not fall in love with you. A man like you was too dangerous for me. Kryptonite that shattered my bearings. 

And then as for the sailors in each port I was convinced that you had a woman waiting for you in each airport …

I was wrong. What I thought was trite is what you liked about me. What I thought was boring reassured you. My naturalness seduced you. A woman without filters, that’s what you wanted. Without fuss or lies. With a life of her own and projects. 

You weren’t afraid of my status as a solo mom, yourself already a dad. You were not afraid of my professional reconversion, you so ambitious and creative. On the contrary, you even encouraged me to do so. 

I was a woman of the fields, you a man of the cities. I was a full time mom, you were a half dad. I lived simply, you knew a certain ease. Nothing seemed to connect us except this dazzling desire. But not fleeting.

Desire has transformed. It was not just a desire for bodies. Our souls got involved. Our sensibilities, our values, our principles, our desires and our dreams.

When my heart kicked in I knew I was screwed. Lucky for me, yours did the same.

We have been able to adapt our lives between your maddening pace and mine. Between my desires for a quiet life and your hyperactivity. We knew how to link them. Our desires, our projects, our feelings. Our home, our children. 

Today, I take the plane more often, and you a little less.

I don’t believe in chance, but now I don’t know what to call our meeting. Luck. Destiny. Evidence? I don’t have that word to ask about our “we”. I live it every day, quite simply with the same intensity.

But deep down, the romantic that I am will never tire of the story of our meeting. I like the idea of ​​having been, for a time, the heroine of a novel. “

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