Every cell

You’re still the most handsome man I’ve ever met. 

Once upon a time, about 10 years ago, you were mine and I was yours. I’d only just moved to London and every day with you was an adventure, every small thing full of life. But I wasn’t from the same background as you. And I was a feminist. Your family wanted out. It broke us.

Were you, are you, my person? I’d convinced myself you’re not, that it never would have worked. For a long time now, I’ve felt ok about it all. And then the weirdest thing happened. 

I was out on a lockdown walk and I was daydreaming about you, about what it would be like to see you again, half wondering whether that spark would still be there. And then, out of nowhere, you said my name, and I turned around and you were there. We walked, we sat, we talked. We talked until it was dark. 

At the end, you hugged me and I felt like I was home. Over seven years since we hugged like that, and my body still knew. Do you know that every cell in the human body replaces itself every seven years? So really there aren’t any cells left in either of our bodies that should know the other from before. But mine knew. 

You said we’d hang out. You didn’t contact me. I didn’t either. 

Then it happened again (seriously, universe?!). I was walking, thinking about you, and you appeared on the street in front of me. It felt so surreal. This time, we arranged to go for coffee. It felt different to sitting in the park, more restricted. I wasn’t sure. But when we said goodbye, we hugged, just for a second, and my whole body came alive. Not alive like I just want to have sex with you, but alive like every cell in my body is conscious, and happy, and ecstatic to be home. It’s hard to explain.

Again, we said we’d hang out. Again, neither of us has made that happen. I think I’m ok with it, I’m not sure we are right for each other after all, but what if my body is right? What if you are my person? 

Do you feel it too? Does it even mean anything?