trixel

"You've been reading some old letters
You smile and think how much you've changed.
All the money in the world
Couldn't bring back those days.
You pull back the curtains, and the sun burns into your eyes,
You watch a plane flying across a clear blue sky.
This is the day, your life will surely change."

-This is the Day by The The

Tonight a beautiful woman reminded me of a lost opportunity. I was looking at the unOFFICIAL LADYINSANE FC thread in the LGBT group. LadyInsane has a purity about her which reminds me of someone I let slip by.

Perhaps ten years ago, I was getting drunk on a Thursday night in my favourite dive of a bar, a place where hardcore and punk bands played. I sat with a large group of malcontents and general pissheads. We laughed and told stories, occasionally snorting beer or knocking glasses over.

I felt something that I cannot describe. I was drawn to look over at a table nearby. I craned my neck and gazed past the comic inebriation and human folly. There She was, my Queen.

She sat with a table of boys. She moved with grace. Her long dark red hair was pushed back from her milky white skin. Her pale eyes were deepset and wide apart. Her chin firm. Her look grave and regal.

I pushed my chair back awkwardly, the leg skidding slightly on a puddle of beer. I remember feeling like a being made of clay. I walked over to her. She stopped talking. I introduced myself and blurted out that I thought she was the most beautiful woman I'd ever had the good fortune to encounter.

She considered what I said, looked up into my eyes and said her name, one word: Ruth. I dissolved. She shook my hand, and that was that. Shot down with one luminous glance. Ruth means pity. To me that night, she was La Belle Dame Sans Merci.

Three years later. Again, a bar. This one a eurotrash affair, with some heavy E vibe mixed with the stench of the underaged consumption of cheap vodka. It was almost closing time. I was sitting at a table, wiping sweat from my face: I'd been dancing like a frenetic jumping bean. Someone said hello. I looked up. Ruth.

She was a cheery flower: her hair was rolled up into little spiky loops all over her head and tied with different coloured threads. She had a dolphin in her hair. I was completely undone and unable to speak. She pressed a piece of paper into my hand, and smiled, and left.

It was her phone number.

I'd like to say, at this point, that I called her and we had amazing times. This story is one of regret though: I never had the guts to call her.

I've seen her about in the past few years. Once in summer twilight on a bike. Several times at Pride. She's shorn her hair short now and has a beautiful girlfriend.

So thank you LadyInsane for triggering that memory. The regret is tinged with happiness that Ruth exists.