Navigation Bar Blue

Saturday, 3 November 2012

The Mystery Guy from Bordeaux

About seven months ago, I checked out an online profile of a French guy who looked good. French good. So I decided to send him an opening message, complimenting one of his facial features in which he surprisingly replied. "I mean what other 'opening line' was I supposed to use?"

However, he doesn't speak any English. So I had to see how far my embarrassing French was going to take me by trying my best to interact with him. Our slow intermittent exchange spanned over a course of a few days. He was nice and I was well, me. Lame, needy and nervous. Technically we weren't cruising each other, but rather getting acquainted. I'd say we were okay, got along pretty well.

From the conversation, I found out his name was T. A late twenties geography and history professor who works in the city, but was currently away on vacation in his home town region of Bordeaux where he was originally from. So I gave him my phone number and told him to get in touch for coffee when he gets back to the city. I left it up to him.

A few days later, I received a text from him.

Coucou, c'est T. Comment vas-tu?
(Hey, it's T. How are you?)

I happily sent him a reply, but did not receive a single text from him since then. I have no idea why.

Later that week, I was hanging out with some friends and we were later joined by this straight friend and his other friend whom I thought looked a little familiar but didn't really dwell further into my memory. We exchanged greetings and this other friend introduced himself as T

At that very moment when we shook hands, my heart dropped 10 stories because it hit me that this guy T, with the exact same name, was the very same guy whom I made contact with online. I am at least 85% sure it was him, maybe even 90% because he bears a huge resemblance to the online photo.

That evening, I was catapulted into a ball of nerves because I wasn't prepared for this kind of encounter. I couldn't believe this impossible coincidence. I didn't know what to do. Nobody here knows I'm gay. Wait, does his friend know? "Shit. Damn you God! Out of all the film-novel-worthy moments that I've desperately wanted to happen in my life which never did, what are the odds of every element falling nicely into place now to create this uncomfortable scenario?"

Throughout the whole time, I kept my distance and avoided eye-contact. The magnitude of awkwardness was enough to kill a cat nine times over. Every second felt like a slow minute. The crowd then decided to adjourn to a friend's apartment for some good old fashioned home-cooked pasta and wine hang out. Throughout the whole night, I wasn't myself. I couldn't concentrate on what was going on because I felt so uncomfortable and awkward. Then I thought to myself: "Am I 100% sure it's him? Maybe I got the wrong guy. You're overreacting, stop scaring yourself."

However, an assumption just wouldn't cut it and there was only one way to find out. I finally plucked up the courage to take the seat beside him and casually engaged him in a normal conversation amongst the other friends. He seemed very in control. In order to diffuse my nerves, I shut my mind off, telling myself that I got the wrong guy. Then he mentioned that his home town was in Bordeaux and he just came back to the city. "My God it's him! Name, tick! Bordeaux, tick! Physical resemblance, tick tick! Just came back from Bordeaux tick! So it must be him!"

But now, he's a university student 5 years younger than his online self, has a girlfriend studying on exchange in Spain. He lives in the southern part of the city where else "geography and history professor" lives in the north. Okay, so it's just me then? Damn, I never like tortured mind games. But he must be telling the truth, why else would he lie in the presence of another straight friend?  

Throughout the whole night, I observed him. After the gathering, a couple of us walked together to the métro station. As we bid each other goodnight, he looked me in the eye again and my instincts kept telling me that this was the same guy. The next day, I couldn't get over my own curiosity so I picked up the phone and sent T a text containing the following message in bad French.

Hier, j'étais à une petite fête et j'ai rencontré un homme qui s'appelle T. Il vient de Bordeaux et il resemble tellement à ta photo. Au début, j'ai l'impression que c'était toi, mais à la fin, j'étais un peu deçu de découvrir ce n'est pas le cas. Tout va bien avec toi?

(Yesterday, I was at a small gathering and I met a guy named T. He's from Bordeaux and bears a huge resemblance to your photo. At the beginning, I thought he was you, but in the end, I was disappointed to discover that it wasn't the case. How's everything?)

Still there was absolutely no reply. We never got in touch. Until today, I will never know the answer to that puzzle or what really happened back there. Maybe it was him, maybe it wasn't.

No comments:

Post a Comment