i dont know if he’ll read this someday. perhaps today was just another nothingness in our timeless universe, who knows? i’ve been glued to this freakin’ laptop of mine for so long now, i’ve been trying hard to study as i used to, but something just stirs inside me with a ferocity greater than ever before. i keep thinking of that mysterious fella, that smiling clerk whose shiny shy eyes found my blurry gloomy eyes. important sidenote: in languages like spanish & french there are two main ways of approaching others according to the way verbs are conjugated: being formal or standard, vouvoyer or ustear, or being nice and rather loving, tutoyer or tutear. in early xxi latin america it’s really weird to hear a guy tutear another. if that’s so, perhaps it’s because their from the northern colombian coast, costeños, or some place where it’s sociolinguistically acceptable (a universe of places), or perhaps because they’re highclass brats who’re just being nice (in this city). this guy tuteared me, that kinda started to send subtle signs to my already damaged gaydar. alright, alright, that was no only way to tell he was like me, but more electricity started my engine that afternoon. what was he so freakin’ nervous about? they were just boxes, there was no reason to drop them all over the place. why he talked to me about his working life, his coming from a faraway town, his tragic childhood? does the rest of the world do the same? am i nuts? he was a sweet guy, honest. so i made up my mind & dared to ask him his number. OMGF, me flirting? this is the end of the world! well, i knew if i didnt do it by then, i’d probably regret if for the rest of my life. plus facebook says enjoy your life, do something you’ve never done before to see if something works out, shit like that……. but it wasn’t facebook, it was me, this guy was really something. he just babbled, touched his pocket & continued babbling. numbers i heard as i wondered if he was being honest. i try to understand. a guy asking such thing in such a place in such a sociocultural setting, i’d made up a number too, LOL. three hours later, i texted him, he hasn’t replied yet…. maybe that message was read by some pimp, by some shrink, or by anyone in deadland, anyone but him. yet i’ll give him a shot. i guess i’ll be back to that shoe store in some days’ time to buy the snickers i fell in love with, but i guess getting who i’ve fallen for will be an adventure that’ll keep me smiling & alive for a couple of weeks. i feel alive, feels good.



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