Day One hundred and eighty five - Three of a perfect pair

As I write all these tales, I realize that some stories almost fall by the wayside. Today I recalled that a little while after Patricia, there was Mafalda. And Mafalda, boy, let me tell you - her, I never got. I never got what happened between us, I never got what didn't happen between us. The best way to describe Mafalda is that she was like a runaway freight train. One that makes a stop, leaves as abruptly as it leaved, comes by some time later, then ups and leaves and rinse and repeat.

So who was Mafalda? Well, I knew her from one of my usual haunts back in the day, though we never met proper. We were never introduced. I eventuallyfound out that she'd been in a relationship with this guy I knew and got along well. But, yeah, even though I'd see her now and again when I went out, and to be fair, found her incredibly attractive, there was neverany interaction between us. But eventually we became facebook friends and would talk on occasion. And in one of those times I asked her if she wanted to meet, and she said ok. We met up after I'd left work - that day I swapped my shift so I'd be leaving at 4 p.m., and I went to meet Mafalda at the same spot where I'd first spent time with Sofia. There were no underlying reasons for that, it's just really a nice place, and It was the perfect spot for us to meet. 

I walked up to her, sat down next to her, and then the runaway train arrived. Now, Mafalda had an unbridled enthusiasm for me the likes of which I never seen before. It was like she had an insatiable hunger for me, and within minutes of us having met for the first time, our lips were locked in fiery passion already. Jesus! Who was this fiery pixie, petite, slim, graceful, and brimming with desire for me? I drank deep of those red lips of hers, hoping that I could return to that well time and time again. And then... after a few days, the runaway train left hastily.

I wasn't offered any explanation, she stopped replying to my texts, and didn't pick up my calls. She had unfriended me from facebook even. And I was stunned. Even more stunned did I feel when some weeks later Mafalda asks me to meet with her so we could have a talk. I met her, and we ended up going to see some french movie together - but we were making out halfway through the movie, and for the next few days all seemed possible. Then... she disappeared again. And then, after a while, in she comes once more. Of course, I believe her - of course I do, that's how gullible I am. But this time I was prepared for the worst, and when it came to pass I politely asked never to do that to me again - she'd squandered all her shots.

But Mafalda, god damn. She'll always be one of my 'what ifs'.