The One That Never Was

Everyone has one, that memory of the one that got away, or the one, because of timing or circumstance, never became what they were destined to be in another universe.

Mine happened when I was just a few months out of my marriage. Skittish, man-shy, and bitter, I spent my time looking after my girls and trying to make a go of a term position as a clerk-typist. Another girl who worked in the office was in the same position, although she was a little further along in the divorce route than I was. She decided that we needed a night out, and I went along with it. We went out to one of the nicer spots in town on Thursday night, Ladies Night, so we didn't have to pay cover charge.

We sat down and had a drink, and talked about work stuff, our kids, how things were going. The place wasn't full, in fact it was pretty dead, only a few other tables were full, and we really weren't paying attention to anyone else in the place.

It was a surprise when the bartender brought over a round of drinks to us, sent by a couple of guys at a table a bit over. We accepted, and raised our glasses to them. After a few minutes they came over and sat down, and we started to talk.

One of the guys was kind of cute, medium height, with a lean muscled body, and that kind of V shape that I love so much, broad shoulders with slim waist and hips. He was sort of shy, and very polite, but he had an innate confidence about him. He was comfortable with his body and understood what it was capable of.

His name was Geoff, not Jeff, Geoff. He was in town visiting his buddy, and was on leave from working in the oil fields in Saudi Arabia. It was his last night in town, tomorrow he would go back to the city, where he had a house, and then back to Saudi to work. We talked and flirted a bit, and had a couple of drinks. He was easy to be with. He asked me to dance and we did, for the rest of the evening. It was fun, and I slowly relaxed as time went on and the music played. In the slow dances that played every so often, I would rest my head on his chest and close my eyes, enjoying the feeling of strong arms around me.

He was sweet and said all the right things. When the lounge was nearing close, we all went out to the parking lot where we all had come in separate cars. He walked me to my car to say good night. He kissed me and told me I was beautiful, and then he kissed me again. He asked if he could come home with me. I would have been disappointed if he hadn't. But, it was a school night, and I had two little girls at home in bed waiting with a babysitter. And, I'm just not that kind of girl, so I said no with some regret.

There was no anger from him at this, and no pressure or whining, he just smiled and said that was too bad. He kissed me again and held my hand and we talked for a few more minutes before we both reluctantly got in our cars and drove away. I never saw him again.

It's funny, I can't even remeber the name of the girl that I went to that lounge with, but I can remember every detail about Geoff. I remember the way his dark hair fell over his forehead just so, the look of his strong, fine-muscled forearms with the dark tan from the Arabian sun. I remember the way he looked at me with those lovely brown eyes, and the smell of his aftershave on his neck as we danced. I remember how safe I felt, and how I knew I could trust him with my life. I remember what a fine man he was.

I go to work every day past the street where his house was in Winnipeg, and sometimes I still think about him. I wonder what kind of woman he married, and whether or not she is worthy of him. And sometimes, I wonder what it would be like to be that woman.