When I was eighteen years old, I met the most gorgeous man I had ever seen. He was about 6’2, caramel colored skin, in his early twenties and, a body to die for, that man was hot. It was summer so he always wore a short sleeve shirt tight enough to show off his bulging pecks. I used to see him stepping out of his Royal Blue, 66 Buick Skylark around the same time every night. Something about his routine always kept me intrigued thereby, keeping me sitting on the steps of my building every night way after I watched him walk into his building. The first thing he would do when he got out of the car was look at his watch. Then, he would reach for something on the passenger side, which was always a bouquet of pink roses. He would put the flowers in his left hand, open the back door with his right hand and grab his briefcase. After clicking the alarm on his key ring, he would head towards his building, which, of course he had to pass me in order to get there. As he approached my building, he always looked over at me and winked. That was the highlight of my night and I looked forward to it. I was so curious to know who was so lucky to get flowers every night. However, I always got my wink so that took the edge off a little. This went on for about three weeks before I decided I could not take it anymore.

My heart was bursting at the seams wanting to at least hear the voice that belonged to the gorgeous somewhat, mystery man. Finally, I made up my mind that I was going to make the first move. Therefore, the next night, I waited in anticipation for him to finish his routine. I waited for him to walk my way and, as soon as he winked at me I said, “Excuse me!” He responded by saying, how may I help you? I said, “ The next time you throw one of those winks my way, how about throwing a name along with it.” To my surprise, he walked over to the steps and set his briefcase down. He then took one rose from the bouquet, gave it a kiss, extended it to me and said, “ My name is David, what’s yours pretty lady?” At that time, my insides were giggling like a schoolgirl but on the outside, I kept it cool. My name is Jazmine, I responded. He said, Really, that’s my mother’s name. Simultaneously we said please to meet you. David started to sit next to me but he stopped midway to ask me if it was okay. Curious about the roses I said, I don’t mind but what about your flowers?

Copyrigh t 1999 By Maxine P. SoSo