Stupid Cupid

It’s so vexing to think back on that moment when I missed an opportunity for a romance. I remember the important stuff like what I was wearing. No, really, I don’t remember that at all. I do recall that I was attending some kind of seminar on independent filmmaking at some college near where I live. The speaker that night was yummy with a capital YUM. If I tried, I could remember his name but I wish to remain anonymous so I won’t divulge it. I don’t think he’s famous anyway so it doesn’t really matter.

Stupid Cupid

Stupid Cupid

He was a tall drink o’ water that was for sure and he had really nice eyes. I remember sitting in the audience thinking of ways to get noticed while his movie was playing. From what I remember it was a pretty good flick but I was too distracted by my quest. If this was a crowded bar, I would know exactly what to do. I would wait for an opportunity to brush past him and catch his eye. You know that game, right ladies? Just sort of graze his elbow with your bosom, look up into his eyes, bat your lashes and all breathy like say, “Pardon my breasts but I need to scooch through to get to the bar.” If he’s not interested, he never will be. Move on already.

Too soon the movie is over and the lights come on. It’s time for Q&A. Internally I’m all over the place. I’m saying to myself think of something witty to say that showed you really understand his movie. But, I can’t do that because I was barely paying attention. Alas, nothing would come to mind. I want to scream at the attendees don’t you have anymore questions for my dream man. Anyone, please save me from my brain freeze.

So, then the seminar thingy is breaking up people are going up to him and thanking him for his time. I’m pretending to be very busy organizing my backpack, buying myself some more time. My mind is rarely blank. I always think of something. This was a first as I’m the last one to get up to leave. How pathetic is that? My one and only true love is standing there chatting with the dude that organized the seminar and another attendee. I didn’t know who she was, but I really hated her guts.

In a split second, I thought to myself who needs this nonsense. If he is interested, he can just track me down. Come and get me. I’m leaving. I gave him one last look to try to make eye contact but that dude interrupted it and I was frustrated at that point. I’m so in love with myself because it never occurred to me that he wouldn’t be interested. Maybe he wasn’t interested. Nah, that’s impossible. It was stupid cupid’s fault and that organizer dude. Forget it. It’s done.

But, it wasn’t done. I mean Mr. Tall Blonde Man of my dreams wouldn’t happen that night or ever but I thought about him. Those thoughts led to this poem…

    aLive Lips and Moon Vibe


Damn, would you have kissed me!Moon

The moon is shootin’ a vibe straight down in a ray
that is drivin’ me wild
I lie in the night throwin’ thoughts your way
I’m not tossin’, not turnin’, my body is idle

You had an electric hand which triggered a pulse in my center
You’re eyes were not zombified – they were sparkling and gentle

I should have just kissed you.
My feet are reachin’ out to the sky in a crazy moon ritual –
“Come to Me Man!”
My lips are alive, there’s a funky moon vibe, and I really just need to be kissed.

I know. I know. I know. We were never close to kissing or touching. It’s so pathetic. I was imagining things about “our encounter” and I wanted more so I embellished. Maybe I wouldn’t have had to embellish had I just got out of my head and just had fun – asked a question and introduced myself. The reality is that cupid didn’t let me down. I did. But I still sometimes hate that little bugger. Look at him over there. He’s so smug with his bow and arrow.

I know without a doubt that I’m better off. That guy is probably living under a bridge somewhere counting blades of grass muttering to himself about his favorite cheeses and humming Beethoven’s ninth symphony in the in between. I mean I can’t live under a bridge. That’s not right.

There is a person I met while blogging that took an opportunity for romance and she is telling that story in her blog, The Normal Couple. Check it out when you have a chance.

Advertisements

12 thoughts on “Stupid Cupid

    • There could have been any number of reasons – he’s gay, hung up someone, focused on his career, getting over a bad break up. I guess my point really was I should get out of my head and live in reality. If I went up and talked to him, I might have found out his situation.

      • I hope you realise I was teasing. I thought it was a great story – we’ve all been there at one time or another, I am sure. Then we spend weeks hoping to run into them again somewhere – of course, that never happens!

        Next time you will be prepared – no brain freeze!

      • I’m totally not offended! It’s really difficult to offend me. Many have tried but few have succeeded.

        “…spend weeks hoping to run into them again” or writing love poems about them, ugh!

        Here’s to no more brain freeze! Cheers!

  1. I was smiling all the way through this Cathy.

    Been there, done that so many times – well apart from the grazing my bosom bit – I would struggle with that!! 🙂

    Actually, as regards that, I had always assumed it was an accident – Wow, think of all the opportunities I have missed!!

  2. Alas, missed chances… I like the line ‘I mean, I can’t live under a bridge. That’s not right’

    You are definitely far too cool to be living under a bridge :p

    Great post 🙂

  3. Well, I’m sure we can all relate to this situation from your side of it. Your entertaining way of describing it and your poem made me realize we should all relate to it from the other side, too, and wonder how many times we’ve been unaware of people who might have an interest in us.

  4. Great!This article is creative,there are a lot of new idea,it gives me inspiration.I think I will also inspired by you and think about more new ideas

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s