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Love Stories of Hawaii

Long Distance Love

Across a Crowded Room
Dedicated to Greg

Submitted by Iris

Our eyes met across a crowded room - No, really they did. His a rich chocolate brown, mine a cornflower blue. He had a way of allowing his head fall forward a bit and then looking up, letting his eyes pick mine up and bam straight into my soul. And the music, our song I called it, and then the sun, the sea, the sand, all in his smile. A sort of crooked smile which made it more endearing and personal.
I'm not a romantic, not at all, in fact quite the opposite. I mean I tend to fob off advances with a sharp elbow to the ribs or I've found a kick on the shin is effective. Once I even did a double chop to the sides, I think the bloke got back on his feet eventually. You see I think people need personal space, I don't like someone to exhale into the air I'm about to inhale. Maybe it's something to do with needing all the oxygen I can get although I read somewhere that we don't need all the oxygen in the air we inhale so it's probably all right to share it, but I prefer to be on the safe side. My sister once told me, in confidence, that holding hands with her husband made her claustrophobic and I totally understood, I felt claustrophobic thinking about it.

Romance means different things to different people. In France people kiss each other all the time, not once but twice and even on some occasions throw in a third for good measure. And that's just saying hello and goodbye is the same. So what do they do to register a romantic interest? Perhaps they shake hands. In Saudi Arabia where I spend some time, people go to extremes to avoid contact with other people especially of the opposite sex and nobody knows how romances form or evolve.
It wasn't love at first sight, I'd seen him lots of times before but that day, maybe I was vulnerable or something, I'm sure he looked just at me, nobody else mattered to him and nobody else mattered to me. I could see that everything he did was for me, I would see him look over his shoulder to see if I'd noticed and the music, our song, would build to a crescendo, and I'd see the beginnings of his smile, our personal secretive smile.

Oh I knew there was no future in it, I knew that from the start, I think he knew as well, sometimes he looked sad. It wasn't just age, although my mother remembers him from way back, but I think age is not important. Not that I'd go out with an eighteen year old, well not unless he was something special, no even then, I don't think I would? But in general age is not important but there was the distance as well, across a crowded room a continent away.

I've always been, well not really shy, more nervous of putting myself forward, I suppose a bit frightened of rejection, but then who isn't? In the end I bought a postcard, quite a nice scene English country garden sort of thing with a kind of hazy quality. I put my phone number on it and after much consideration settled on the message -Jack Lord, Hawaii five 0, I love you.

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