"Throw your heart out in front of you and run to catch it." --Arab Proverb
The interesting thing about developing new relationships is that you can never be sure who's meant to be there for a minute, and who's minute will turn into a lifetime. And since it's nothing you can neither control nor predict, it's easier to hold on loosely, show your heart as best you can, and simply hope that the company you keep is good company.
At the very least, you hope for a fun and relaxing evening. At the mid-level of value-neutral expectations, you hope to be able to laugh from your belly, giggle from a meaningful place and be able to set yourself free of the fear that holding onto your "minute" too tightly will lead to a situation over which you powerless to predict or control. Beyond this, at the upper end of all hopes and expectations, you do admittedly hope for that "zing" connection. You hope that you haven't become overly jaded and densely scarred by too many dashed-expectations and minute-long relationships that, for better or for worse, don't turn into lifetimes. You don't want to find yourself in a low place where you feel you've lost your innocence and maybe even your ability to make more room in your heart for another potential disappointment. You do. You may not want to admit it rationally, but deep down you are still looking for that first kiss to be your last first kiss. You just are. Otherwise, you wouldn't be living in the minute. No. No, otherwise, you would never leave your own bed.
When I was a young girl, I used to wish on stars and write sweet, feminine letters to the love of my life so that when we did find each other one day, he would know who I was before I met him. Deep down, I wanted to feel a connection to someone else out there--someone who was born just for me, and I for him. I guess, in my own way, I still have this dream. And in my own right, I've painstakingly preserved what is left of myself so far in this world so that I may have something to offer that is a reflection--and not a burden--of the lessons learned in all of my minutes leading to the long moment that we actually recognize each other.
In all of my fickleness and (admittedly) obsessive quest for self-development to be as drama-free as one can happily be, I certainly hope I haven't already passed him up. But I also realize that life is funny like that. If you really want something, you work for it, but things such as this never work with just two hands belonging only to you. If it's truly something special, it will come back around. It may be worth the long-distance travel to get there. In cases such as these, I'm comforted in thinking that the journey matters just as much as the destination.