It started pretty innocently. I looked up from my spot at my table and happened to look straight into your eyes. It could have been as innocent as any of the other connections I accidentally made that night, but for some reason this was different. I can’t really decide why; it might have been the extra beat we waited before we both looked away, or maybe it was just all of the love in the air that night. It could even have been some sort of fate, the gods above wanting us to notice each other. Whatever it was, neither of us truly understood what would come of that one look.

As the dinner slowly ended and the dancing (and drinking) was to truly begin, we went about our separate ways.

From what I’ve pieced together, we went the same route from that point on, only at separate tables.

I was sipping on whiskey and cokes; you were tossing down red wine by the bottle. We both ended up going out to smoke at separate times, but we never got the chance to develop what we had started over the pasta course.

As you got up to dance with all the other friends of the bride, I sat and enjoyed my drink. As I polkaed to drinking songs, you sat and enjoyed the spectacle. We even ended up on the dance floor together at times, but neither of us got close enough to the other for anything to begin.

We slowly started moving closer to each other, intentionally or not I’ll never know. Soon enough we were sitting side by side, both watching the happy (and inebriated) people on the dance floor. You reached over to take another look at the set menu for the night and I happened to ask if you knew what something meant on it. We ended up discussing a shared interest in food, a discussion which quickly turned into a quick foray onto the dance floor. We again found a connection through the music, one not shared by any other left in the room.

I sat again and you quickly followed, but you leapt up for the last dance of the evening. As you moved out to the dance floor, I sat and surveyed the room. As I looked across the dance floor to where you were, you lifted a hand and gestured for me to join you. As Marvin Gaye told us to get it on, we moved slowly in concert with one another.

The music stopped and we made our way out into the night. I told you I would walk you back to your hotel, and so we set off with another pair of your friends in tow. I must admit, I may not always remember your name, and its possible one day your face may escape my mind; but I’ll never be able to forget what I learned that night.

In the course of our short walk to your hotel, you managed to change the way I looked at the world, even if only for that one night. You stumbled back and forth across the road we walked down, which led to you falling onto your back. And yet, not once did you do anything but laugh. You loved that moment, despite what all may have occurred. When you found that your heel had been broken, you whipped off your shoes and ran through the sprinklers, cigar in hand.

Maybe you could blame it on the alcohol, or tell me that that Grey Goose got you acting all loose. You could explain that you were caught in the beauty of the moment, or that you simply didn’t care. Maybe you’d be right, but somehow I don’t think so. What I saw in your eyes that night wasn’t the end result of a night of heavy drinking, nor was it the result of you losing all of your inhibitions for whatever reason. What I saw that night was the sheer beauty of another’s soul shining through all of their barriers for an oh-so-short night.

Nothing may come of the time that we spent in each other’s company that night, and we may never see or hear of each other again, in a week you might forget who I am if you haven’t already. In spite of all that though, I hope I managed to make half the impression on you that you made on me. For as long as I might roam this earth, I’ll never forget the night I learned there was nothing quite so beautiful as a carefree young woman on a beautiful night.