The Man Who Murdered Love

I saw him last Thursday, the man who murdered love*. I was standing in an aisle of a store, trying to answer my phone, when there he was. Walked right past me, a perpendicular path. And suddenly my heart dropped. My knees congealed. Was I even breathing? I had been successful, these past, nearly 3 years to avoid him, at first making it a point not go to his haunts, then later finding that I didn't miss bowling on fridays or shopping in a certain part of town.** But there he was, in my neck of the woods. Looking the same as the day we last spoke. What was he now, 24? 25? The person on the phone finally spoke loud enough to snap my attention back and I gave my head a little shake to clear those thoughts. I excused myself from the conversation and proceeded to go about my business, going opposite of where he had gone. I made it down a few aisles, the incident falling further from my mind with each step. Then, turning a corner I ran into him. Literally. Just like in the movies. Had I been the original Batman, I believe the proper notation would have been "Twack!" or "Kapow!". I made with the lame apollogies, trying to go my way, before he could see who I happend to be, but it was too late. As I mumbled "Sorry" he put a hand on my cart and stared for a moment before saying my name. I just nodded, which was more than I thought I'd be capable of.
He asked how I was doing, if I still lived around here, about school, etc, etc. I answered, and tried to smile naturally. I asked about his family and about himself, but after that, we ran out of small talk and ended up grinning stupidly at one another. Finally I clapped my hand against my thigh and said it had been nice talking, but I really had to finish up what I had been doing. He nodded, said he was headed somewhere himself, and then did what I never would have seen coming. He had me in his arms. He hugged me. Then it was over, and before I could say goodbye, he gave me a quiet smile and went on his way.

I started to turn away too, but thought better of it. Instead, I watched him walk away. At that moment I realized he wasn't the guy who I had crushed on for a year then dated and who, just when we started getting serious broke things off, because he just 'wasn't really over her' yet, BUT who less than 3 monthes later was living with a girl who broke his heart all over again, a short while after. He wasn't the guy who compared me to her and made me cry myself to sleep-out of pity for him. Who caused me to do crazy things because I thought he could change, if he just knew someone cared enough to try. He wasn't the man who murdered love anymore.

Nope, he was Jamie. The guy who taught me that a regular bowling date was a fun as a regular shopping date. Who introduced me to Rock N' Roll. Who helped me 'queen' up the cardboard cutouts of basketball players where we had worked together. Who treated me like a lady and made me realize good guys did exist outside of high school and childish fantasy.

And I....I was transition girl. The one whose smoky blue eyes could coax you out of a bad mood and could get you over someone faster than you'd have thought possible. After some recoup time, you'd fly off on your own. Wings mended.
I was reminded of a line from "Grey's Anatomy" a few weeks ago. I clearly heard Dr. Grey saying "...Choose me. Love me." I'm so glad he didn't.
I haven't been transition girl in a very long time. Just like Jamie hasn't been the man who murdered love.
Things really do change with time.
** I ramble a lot when I'm feverish. Forgive me, this time.