Meet Apollo

I remember when I first saw him and I know he remembers it too, perhaps better from how I tell it than from his own point of view, even.

I was with my friend Holly. We always dressed up in some fabulous outfits and we always stood out ridiculously because no one dressed up like we did. It was a Saturday and we held a ritual of drinking wine after work, sure to be the best dressed and oh-so-proud of it (she being a stylist and a vintage clothing hoarder). I wore heals that made me tower at over six foot- mostly a challenge to boys, maybe a desperate call to find someone like Him. Tall. Beautiful. And Beautiful and Tall is exactly what I saw when I walked into the bar that night.

He wore that plaid shirt everyone's seen him in a million times. Black hair, scruffy face, green eyes and the smile to totally knock me over. Perfect. God-like.

Meagan, meet Apollo.

"Holly!" A frantic whisper, barely taking my eyes off of him as he disappeared into the smoking room. I asked her if she'd seen that tall dark retardedly-handsome man, though I can't remember her answer and I don't think I was too concerned with the response. I told her I was going to take my drink and go smoke another cigarette, even though I'd just finished one. Who fucking cared, I couldn't wait to be near him.

I don't think I could have been so bold had I not had a couple drinks before we got there- just enough to give me the liquid courage to saunter up to him and I knew I looked good- long legs, hot black dress (whatever it was, I don't remember except it was black), thick black eye-makeup like I now know he loves.

I eyed you and did I think I asked for a light. I believe I did. Mostly I remember your smile as I told you that you were the hottest man I'd ever seen (still true), taking a drag I rambled the way I do when I get excited in that hyper way, "I'm just going to stand right here next to you if you don't mind and look at you while I smoke this here cigarette," Taking a breath and a drag at the same time- two birds with one stone, "I saw you from across the bar and I just had to come out here and talk to you, my panties are just bursting!" and a leak of giggles slipping out (nerves, I'm sure, and who says that?!).

I look back and wonder what is it I was actually thinking? Was I drunk? Was I that confident that a man like him a) would be single and b) would be interested in me and my model stats? Damn, my ego. Damn my ego swelling outfit!

But good Lord, that smile again! So delighted by my showering of adoration, he laughed and turned to the girl standing next to him and introduced her as his girlfriend. I hadn't even noticed her before then, not even an inkling of an idea that she existed at all. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that she was at least a foot shorter than me- us. Maybe it was the tattoos that so un-femininely covered her arms and chest (the staple of Syracuse girls). But she gave me a smile that could shatter most evil-eyes, bright red lipstick stretching across a sweet but knowing face. As if she was used to him hitting on girls in front of her, though with the bite of an actual threat this time.

I tried very hard to be nonchalant about it. I tried hitting on her a bit. Complementing her on her.. shoes or something. I think my Apollo watched me, still happy with my strong attempts and perhaps enjoying my not-so-well blanketed discomfort. I remember him saying, "It's okay." But by that point there's no other option but to leave.

I dismissed myself with a blush and a smile, him standing there, slouching to one side, his head cocked a little further- his whole body tilted on an angle, grinning at me, assessing me.

Most girls would call his unshaven face, long hair and cocky smile "scumbag". And while I can't really disagree, he was still the most beautiful man I'd ever seen in my life...