Nounours75. Password: *******. You have a new message.
His heart was pounding. 3 months he had registered on this dating site. A new site. One among many others. Like him. Single drowned amidst a sea of lost souls in search of another to share with. 3 months he had practically no message. No keys. Must be said that he had not hidden. The photo showed clearly that he was George Clooney not. A nice smile and a sincere look bare but her hair and curves that accompanied them were not to fall in love the girls on the other side of the screen. He cares. He wants to show himself as he is. Masks and pretenses, this is not his thing. Complex or not. It assumes.
Yet recent days, he chatted with a charming little lady. Aloneinthedark. A little younger than him. Blonde. Long hair. The photo showed her in her profile tank supported on a beachfront, sunglasses and fringe rebel. It emanated from her something angelic. It had rained all of on.
To her surprise, she responded to his first post he had taken great care to write. The first impression is often the most decisive. She had been sensitive to his humor and he gave the impression of being a boy like no other. Smart, simple, open and basically nice. They exchanged almost daily. Their joys, their expectations, their passions, their disappointments. It sprang up between them a gentle complicity as unexpected as it is delicious. They seemed to know even if it has always seemed more reserved, more mysterious than he. You never know what you fall. The virtual anonymity that Internet offers us opens the door to all evil bringing with them a whole bunch of girls and women reckless.
And if his heart was pounding more than usual when he received this new message is that this time it was to be the answer to his proposal to meet. In real life. A drink. And maybe more. He was apprehensive. It's a bit feverish he opened the message.
Dear Antoine (well I know your real name),
Excuse me for having taken so long to answer you but your proposal even predictable, was no less disturbing. I hesitated a long time. A little frightened at the thought of meeting you. Not that you make me afraid because you inspire confidence, but I dread the feeling that I would. The fear of disappointing you. Internet is one thing. "The Real Life" is another. But I still want this appointment. Even if only to hear the sound of your voice. Smelling your perfume.
So yes ... I'll be next Saturday in 20h place St Michel in Paris.
Yours
Sophie
He has had to read the message 20 times. Especially the last sentence. Especially the last word. He liked his first name. She said yes and appeared in the same stress as him. How could she imagine the disappointment? How would he dress? What would he say? Where he would take her? Oh yes, she loved him as Japanese cuisine. Good. And would it be up? And ... a billion questions flooded her head. Saturday was two days and it seemed to him so far ...
He was nervous. His shirt seemed to oppress. He had taken time to choose. His sweaty hand went back to see a round earlier .19 H58. It was quarter of an hour he was pacing in the crowd already compact on a Saturday summer evening. On the Place St Michel. Although it was mild, he was sweating. Impatience. Initial apprehension. His eyes stared at all the blondes who might resemble him. Would recognize it? It please Him? The prevailing noise seemed muffled. He had not had a tip-off since ... since ... He did not even know. A beautiful love story. One you pick as a teenager and leaves you on the edge of the road 10 years later. Alone. Looking for landmarks. Answers. After the desert is sentimental ... It drowns in his career. We neglect. We get lost. And when comes the thirties, one morning, looks in the mirror and it is scary. Very afraid ... We decided to take charge and as one is a timid, we choose the internet.
Emerging from his torpor, he sees a blonde hair in the crowd which crosses the avenue. The same sunglasses and vest the same as in the photo. She seemed to find their way through the onlookers. He went to meet her and saw her through the crowd. Radiant. A white cane before she helped him to move. He understood. He smiled and took her by the arm which did not resist. She knew it was him. Intuition never do wrong. She did it. He approached and said "you'll never be alone in the dark. "
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