Samantha? – m4w – Red River
We were standing next to each other at the concert the other night and I instantly felt a connection without even having to talk to you or really remembering you all that well in hindsight. You were wearing the most perfect red (?) flannel shirt with short shorts. I was wearing my best (how fortuitous!) grey shirt my mom had bought me for my last birthday and jeans. You leaned over with your gorgeous blond hair and asked me what time the show was going to start. When you spoke, your voice sounded like a chorus of angels. I told you I wasn’t sure and you responded, “okay, thanks”. What a perfect response from a perfect woman!
I started to tell you how this was MY FAVORITE BAND OF ALL TIME. I recounted for you in great detail the other shows of theirs I had been to in the past. Like that time my friend Jared and I followed them on their east coast tour. We got so drunk at their show in Raleigh and got matching peace signs tattooed on our biceps, you know, to symbolize what this band is all about. Remember? I proceeded to lift my sleeve up to show you the tattoo. You sort of rolled your eyes and took a few steps away from me.
Your eyes were the prettiest green I had ever seen! When I looked into your eyes, I felt like I was lost in the Amazon rainforest, but, like, lost in the best way. Lost in a way where you’re not really lost, but, like lost in a more poetic way.
I felt like this was the perfect time to ask you for your number. I shouted over the crowd’s roar, “CAN I GET YOUR NUMBER?!”. You shouted back, “WHAT?!”. Your inability to hear me was so incredibly adorable, if I hadn’t already fallen head over heels for you, I surely would have then. I pointed to you and then pointed to myself and then mimicked talking on the phone with my hand in a hang ten style. You threw your hands up pretending to be exasperated and said something into your friend’s ear, presumably explaining our instant connection.
Right then the band started. I obviously owed MY FAVORITE BAND OF ALL TIME my full attention, and by the time they stopped, you had disappeared. Thus began our own Cinderella story. If this sounds like you, please contact me before the stroke of midnight.
