When I tell my friends about the guy I met in Puerto Rico, they say I'm crazy. They say that there is no way I am going to find him, and that he is probably not that great; that I don't even know him (which is true), and that I am just obsessed (which it is also true). I convinced myself that it was something else, because I know what I felt when I saw him. It was special, something that never happened to me before. Then I left, without knowing his name, his phone, address, or any kind of way to contact him. All I know is that he lives in the state of New York or Connecticut, or maybe not. In fact, I don't even remember his face, so if I see him I am not even going to realize it is him. But like I said, I remember the feeling. I remember what I felt when I saw him like it was yesterday. And that's enough to remember HIM everyday, and to wonder if I am ever going to see him again.
The problem is... my friends are right. I don't know him. Maybe he is the kin of guy I would never date. Maybe he is not my type. Maybe he takes pictures of himself in front of a mirror with his cell phone, or maybe he is a jerk, or maybe he is annoying and creepy, or maybe he texts girls all the time. And I am here, waiting for someone invisible, someone I don't know, someone I don't even remember.
So I've been trying to let it go, but today, when I was in Manhattan, I started looking around, because maybe, just maybe, he was there too. Maybe it was the right place, at the right time, just like it was that night in Puerto Rico. I saw million of faces, and that's when I thought... "how the heck am I gonna find him?".
I found love in a hopeless place. Again.