Gum

7. Oktober 2014 at 20:50 (Posts in English) (, , , , , , )

We were not at all like two planets, peacefully circling around each other in a state of constant gravitational attraction. We rather resembled two meteors that had violently collided on their way down to Earth, coming from different directions and homes. Instead of being a bright shooting star, peacefully lighting the night sky, I had become involved in an explosion where not only my own hopes and dreams had been shattered, but also the hopes and dreams of somebody else.

When we first met in the coffee shop, I was certain that I hated him – even before he had opened his mouth to utter the very words we would later heartily laugh about: “I’m sorry to bother you, but there is chewing gum sticking to your backside.” While I tried to assess the damage done to my beautiful black trousers, he kept talking. I was hardly listening while he went on and on about how he hoped that I didn’t have an important meeting today, because it would be horrible if I had to present myself to someone parading this disgustingly pink gum stain.

I interrupted him rather rudely: “It’s okay, thanks for telling me. I think I have to get going, though.” I grabbed my coffee cup and headed to the doors.
“Wait!”, he cried and threw himself in my way, making me spill some of my coffee (thankfully right on the floor, without a detour over the rest of my clothes). “I put the gum there. I didn’t know how to get your attention, so I tried something stupid.” He shrugged his shoulders apologetically.

I would have liked to throw the rest of my deliciously hot coffee in his face, but that would have been a disgrace to the nicely ground and tenderly brewed coffee beans themselves. I looked him straight in the eye and hissed: “Well done. I’ll give you my business card, so you can call me when you want to pay for the cleaning of my pants.”
He accepted it and I stormed out before he could say anything else, hoping he would leave me alone.

However, life is cruel. And after weeks of flowers being delivered to my office and dinner invitations voiced over the phone, I caved in and said yes. He whisked me away to the most beautiful restaurants in the city, candle-lit and with a perfect view of the illuminated skyline. Who could resist the peculiar charm of a man, willing to do anything to make you happy and being consistent enough to never give up, even when you push him away?

Five months later, we were a couple. Three months after that, we lived together. And another month later, he proposed to me by handing me a packet of gum with a ring nestled between the silver foils. We were preparing to collide at the speed of light.

I saw him last week, walking his dog in the park where we once had a picnic, the dreadfully drooling Great Dane marking its territory right where we had sat then. A friend has told me that he works at a dry cleaner’s now, after he has lost his job because he was too depressed to show up regularly. He is in a bad shape and I wish I could help him. But ever since our divorce, I haven’t been feeling too well myself. The only thing that makes me smile, nowadays, is secretly sticking old gum to people’s trouser seats.

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