It was a pretty normal weekend for me. Never as much sleep as I plan... hanging out with my boys... a few parties... and running into Monet. I first met him on the sands of Condado, Puerto Rico back in May of 2004. From the instant I saw Monet, I was smitten. Beautiful smile, golden skin, as tall as me, and an infectious personality. After watching him play volleyball for what seemed like hours... and joining in for a few matches myself, I quizzed my then bestfriend on who the hell was he.
I put your picture on my mirror... Start to blush when somebody says your name... In my stomach there's a pain... See you walk in my direction, I go the other way
I start to stutter when I speak... Try to stand, but my knees go weak... What's happening to me? In Dark, can you tell me what it means?
I lay my head on my pillow... You got me starring out the window... Wish on a star for a sign... Thats the reason why
-Fantasia, When I See You
I only saw him on a few occasions since then but once I moved to Atlanta I seemed to run into Monet quite frequently. And every time I see him, I smile. You know when you find someone that totally embodies your 'type', but you just don't know what to do or what to say. Well after several months of harmless flirting back and forth... I did something I never do. I laid my cards on the table and told him how I felt. As I stood there totally exposed, it seemed to catch him off guard but he finally knew.
Sunday, I ran into Monet again at Dejangos... he gave me the usual customary hug that I have come to expect but this time it was quite more. Apparently the $70 United Colors of Benetton shorts were paying off. (mental note go back and get the brown ones IMMEDAITELY) Later in the night he made an excuse of not being able to dance... as long as I have known him I have never seen him on the dance floor so and I was definitely trying to ummm check his moves. We talked for awhile and exchanged text messages from across the club. As we said our goodbyes our eyes met and I could tell he knew how I was feeling at that moment... with another mentioning of him liking my shorts, Monet was gone.
As I rode home from the club recanting the nights events with my boy... a goodnite text message came across the Treo. Damn I hate it when they know you like them.