Happy birthday to me . . .

It started with a Swedish Fish.

A Darlin Marlin actually.

She held out the crinkly half-sized bag to me with a flick of her wrist. It was already ripped open, its red folded and stapled piece of cardboard used as packaging long since gone. There were books resting on every corner of the coffee table in front of us and a smattering of other bagged candies piled the middle like a bibliosacrifice of the sugarcoated.

Her first words to me were, "Darlin Marlin?" Since I was late to the book club meeting, I was trying much to hard to concentrate on the group discussion, already in progress. I kept my gaze on the group. She held the bag up for me by her side. I looked down to the bag she held on my left and saw Swedish Fish. I took one.

"Thank you."

During the meeting she playfully mocked my faint and nearly inaudible speaking voice. When she did so, it was always with a smile. Always with a glance. Green eyes overflowing with excitement. Coy and inviting.

When the meeting finished she, her friend, and I stayed together for beer and cross-questioning. The following Sunday my mistress of the Darlin Marlin and I had a laughter-filled lunch with greater conversation, expanded to the type of talk that two obviously interested people tend to have. To crave. She was even more radiant than I had first remembered.

"I don't have to worry," I thought as I found myself drowning in the beau ideal of her presence. "Everything feels right. Exciting."

The chemistry sparked in the air was undeniable. From the initial explosion of elation to the more subdued golden sparkles gently showered upon us with each glimpse of one another, like an undercurrent of attraction, chemistry was the ignition.

The next week brought with it dinner and drinks. Smiles and friends. Kisses while ignoring the glow of nearby televisions. Touching skin and embracing bodies. Tracing birthmarks with fingertips.

Felicity.

Wonder.

She sent me two emails on my birthday a week later. One wished me a happy birthday in the morning. It was a different story in the afternoon.

"While I think you're totally awewome and I'm really glad that I met you, I think we're better suited as friends...we're just too different, I think, to date."

The feelings of overwhelming joy had evaporated but the wonder did not.