Age Gets Beautiful Boys Too
If you are a lifetime reader of my blog you might remember 15 or so (!!!) years ago I was in love with a beautiful boy named Austin who worked at my local Trader Joes. I remember trying to sneak pictures of him BEFORE phones had cameras in order to share with you. I remember the flutter in my heart whenever I saw he was working. The skip of my pulse when I'd get in his checkout line and he'd flash me that brown-eyed smile. How I'd fantasize about running my hands over his so smooth-looking tan skin. How I'd stand there school-girled knowing I probably could've been his mother had I gotten recess-pregnant, abortion-afraid. How he made my trips to Trader Joes an adventure and a highlight whenever he was there. Sigh.
And then he wasn't there.
And then he was forgotten.
Until today. When I pushed my cart into the shortest line at Trader Joes. Until this beautiful boy man greeted me hello with a brown-eyed smile and how I smiled back with my own. And I knew it was him yet still searched for his name tag for confirmation. AUSTIN. It was. My heart knew.
He's 15 years or so older. His boy shine still there but now peeking through gauzy man clouds. He had a mature air about him that I don't recall from before; making polite conversation with me, confident, full eye contact (swoon/blush). His voice a medium-deep. His skin still brown but less smooth, more rugged. A scattering of whiskers.
I stared and stared, my heart a ruffling heat; more with the unlocked sweet memory and disbelief than the lust and crush I had those many years ago.
I wanted to tell him all of this. How in love I was with him. How I tried to take sneaky pics of him. How I wrote about him on my blog. I wanted to ask him what he's being doing for the past decade and a half. Does he have a girlfriend? A dog? A wife? Kids? Is he happy?
I wanted to call out to you all–those that are still here and those that are long gone—"Austin, you guys! Austin! Remember? From my blog?! Almost 20 year ago!" But you weren't there. It was just me, alone. As it's always been.
So I came here.
To tell you.
And now I have.