I won’t know it when I see you, that first time. I’ll see Cute, maybe Player, maybe Friend Material. I won’t know yet that I belong to you, the way grass does to the earth or the birds do to the sky. I’ll hope, maybe, that you’ll talk to me, that our words will wrap and wind around each other for a moment, my naivety not understanding the way our voices will sing when joined at the same time. I won’t see you and greet Forever.
But you will.
I’ll say no to that first dance, partly out of pride and partly because of the pleasure it will give me to watch you squirm a little. I’ll know the kind of man you are when you don’t hold that against me, and even more when I come back and retract my refusal, because my friend wants to go with your roommate and I just can’t tell her no. I’ll put on my dress and curl my hair, say how much I don’t want to see you, but really, deep down, I’m thrilled.
You’ll meet me at the bottom of the staircase, a Cinderella spiral, and I’ll think, how lucky that his tie matches my gown. I won’t know until later that you found out the color from my roommate and had your dad drop off a matching shade. I’ll wonder, as you take my hand and guide me across the floor, is he always such a gentleman?
I won’t know yet that you are.