A Date With The Incomparable Ms. Z. Drew

Part Three Continued..

Prolonged self-anaesthetisation sure makes the days whizz past quickly and summer days for a student can be somewhat blurry at the best of times.  Which these were not.  Another year began, another cycle of work-sleep-study-repeat, and the haunting images of that initial meeting were fading into a soup of frivolous parties and day-long 

hangovers.

In an attempt to keep the spiralling costs of socialising down I began spending more evenings on Pink Sofa, glass of wine in hand while I chatted and charmed from the safety of my desk chair.  Nights at the local girl bar were adding up, depleting both financial and inspirational resources.  I was finding interest in ululating autobiographies harder and harder to feign and my neck muscles were tiring from nodding at pretty things.  Having the time to consider and frame my wit and wisdom was suddenly working for me and my contacts were plentiful and intriguing.

A face amongst the featured members caught my attention one night, the eyes obscured by sunglasses but a confident, close-lipped smile, brimming with self-knowledge, demanding a second look.  A quick click on this face brought me to a profile description unlike any other I'd yet encountered.  The style of writing hooked me instantly; elegant, confident and controlled.  Yet the content was wild and untamed, stating in the most matter of fact terms definitions of freedom and meaning and love.  A glimpse into a mind and a way of thinking that I instinctively understood.  I sent her a smile.

24 hours later I received a message.  Consistent with the character portrayed in her profile description, she had read my profile, extracted something pertinent and quoted it back to me with 'that resonates, thanks for the smile'. Had she simply smiled back, I might have been able to leave it at that.  Maybe.  The fact that she'd connected with something I'd written filled me with a strangely familiar glow.  I had to learn more.  I poured another glass of wine, downed it for courage and hit reply.  A short message, just enough to indicate interest, complimenting her writing style and asking what she did for a living.

I waited.

To Be Continued..