I arrived in town on a Sunday afternoon and checked into the motel. I was in town for the week to get some basic training at the head office of the company I had just begun working for. Two others from my region were also attending.
The following morning we made our way to the office. We drove around the car park, searching but not finding a free space. We got out and parked in a nearby street.
Whilst we had been in the car park, I noticed what was perhaps the most gorgeous young man I had ever laid eyes on. He turned out to be also attending my course.
We walked in and sat down. Naturally, I sat beside him. He was twenty years old, slim, about 5'8", had the most beautiful brown eyes and a cheeky grin. His hair was to die for. It was dark brown or black, with a number one clipper up the back and sides. He had thin hair, which was gelled down flat and smooth on top, with the fringe pointing straight up and higher than the rest. His sideburns were long, skinny and tapered, the tips ending about an inch below the ear lobe. He was also a snappy dresser.
We sat there and followed the training, all the while seemingly having subtle foot and leg brushes under the table. My mind was racing, trying to figure out if he was doing it intentionally. All too often it seemed that he was, although at other times I wasn't really sure. I never moved away when this was happening and neither did he.
We finished for the day and I found myself unable to think of anything but him. All night long I was praying that something would happen between us.
The following day the same things were happening under the table. Additionally, I wrote my mobile phone number on a piece of paper and placed it on the table in full view of him. I even picked it up and put it on my knee under the table, hoping he would take it. But he didn't. He later was keying something into his phone but it was impossible to know what that might be.
Just before finishing for the day, I asked him to join me for a drink or two at a nearby pub and he happily accepted. We chatted and played pool over a couple of drinks. At some point I decided it was time to ask a test question to determine if he was gay or straight.
"So," I asked, "do you have a girlfriend?"
"No," he replied, "not at the moment. What about you? Are you married or have a girlfriend?"
"No, nothing happening", I said.
"Ah, bachelor, probably the best thing I suppose."
My heart sank. This Adonis I had pinned my hopes on was not going to come through for me. He finally left and went home, fortunately none the wiser as to the reason for my invitation.
And I left the pub, devastated. I had wanted so badly to be able to tell him that I couldn't stop thinking about him, that he was an angel, that I wanted to hold him in my arms and show him I cared. But now I knew that he could never learn any of this. He was like a drug. I became addicted, only to have it yanked away. And I was left to suffer withdrawal.